Monday, March 7, 2011

Crop Failure








Crop Failure


The summer came and parched the cloves 
The sun beat down, a drum of brass.
Before the locusts came in droves
the summer came and parched the cloves.
They parted then in a blighted grove,
divided, dried to blistered grass.
The summer came and parched the cloves.
The sun beat down, a drum of brass.


March 2011

A triolet.

Posted for Magpie Tales # 56

Also posted for OneStopPoetry Form Monday at the inimitable OneStopPoetry

26 comments:

  1. Great job Joy combining these two prompts especially with the garlic...excellent job the locusts and the brazen sun parting the cloves...nice triolet the cadence goes with the the theme....like a folk song out of the past...bkm

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  2. Wow, two forms in one I'm very impressed! I think you've done this before! Iambs are rolling and sound natural and unforced, your refrains are seamless and repeated effectively! Great job!

    I hope you enjoyed the form, and seeyou next week!

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  3. Reminds me of the locust attacks in the Midwest during the dust bowl days. Poor bastards would get a small crop to grow even though the drought was on then the great buzz would come and devour everything. They say even shovel handles were reduced to nothing.

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  4. You just reminded me why I love Spring and don't love Summer. Nice cadence to your poem.

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  5. So...I'm thinkin the sea monkeys didn't make it, either, right?

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  6. Praying for a new crop..can't cook without garlic..loved this!!

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  7. Blighted grove indeed! thanks. you can surely feel the heat and dry-

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  8. can hear the drums and see the light of that blind colour of the brass and sun.

    Another astounding piece, HW!

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  9. Your cloves are doing just fine Thank You....

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  10. Another fantastic piece, hedgewitch.

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  11. Thanks all. The garlic speaks.

    @Shan Glad you found the form in order--iambic tet is pretty easy for me, its extending it to pentameter that always throws me. You did a great job explaining triolet--a pleasure to read and write to.

    @FB No, the locusts obviously ate the sea monkeys.

    @G-Man: Yeah, the cloves are great, it's the head I worry about.

    @twm : yes, that's very much the image I had in mind--I've been in some modern day dust storms here, very mild compared to back then, and they are a voracious,scary thing.

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  12. The refrains are perfect! I really like this.

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  13. Really lovely write. That repetition of that form works so well here. Love the sun as 'drum of brass'

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  14. I should probably mention that I read this excellent mag linked below by the ever amazing Fireblossom, and somehow her locusts invaded my triolet--so tip of the hat to FB and if you haven't read it, you're missing a definite pleasure:

    http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2011/03/nightwing.html

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  15. Wonderfully done!

    I really like how we get so many ideas out of one photo. Everyone interpreting it differently.

    viscous time

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  16. Great take on the theme- thankfully locusts aren't a common feature- not as common- I mean :)

    Hugs xx

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  17. A triolet was the perfect form to encompass the feel of the separate cloves that make up a garlic bulb.

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  18. Fireblossom slays me...
    plant the garlic on the shortest day of the year
    maybe that'll help

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  19. It seems to evoke the coming loss. I liked it!

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  20. That Midwestern summer sun is, indeed, a drum of brass. I like the juxtaposition of the lovely lyrical quality of this piece combined with the brutal theme. Hot!

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  21. nice elegant piece

    and thank you for the suggested reading

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  22. A palpable piece - provocative and strong. Love the rhythm, repetition and flow.

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  23. Ack!! Poor crops!! I hate locusts (and all those creatures that come in swarms only to damage everything they come in contact with)

    A superb write, Joy.. in a few lines, you have laid out a story that is oh so tense and sad..

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  24. Triolet ~ how totally charming!

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  25. I really enjoyed reading this. Really though, I hope the locusts don't get the garlic.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats

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