Day 27 – NaPoWriMo Seventeen Syllables!

the slippery grass was a glossy green on the east side of the hill
where the golden sun sparkled happily in the early morning dew
casting rainbow reflections upward and outward toward a blue sky

but the west was shadow ridden and forlorn, dismally bleak and dry
a desolate landscape blighted by greyness within a warped quagmire
of slimy bog and smelly sludge, relentlessly encroaching forward

the microcosm of a world fuelled by mindless ideology

increasingly doomed, forever bent on terminal self destruction

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Pastel on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016


Todays prompt form
The Irish poet Ciaran Carson increasingly writes using very long lines. Carson has stated that his lines are (partly) based on the seventeen syllables of the haiku, and that he strives to achieve the clarity of the haiku in each line. So today’s challenge is to write a poem with very long lines.
I have taken on board the seventeen syllables and used that as a starting point.

Goodbye Mother Earth

though the sun wept bitter tears
the drenched land remained barren

an unfertile thing made by men
laden with forgotten memories
clogged within thick wet dust

the exhaust fumes of yester-years progress
pathing the burden of tomorrows treachery

and the strangling death of Mother Earth

bushfire 2015

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

Hope of a New Day

a heavy heat haze hangs
blanketing a sweaty landscape
stifling the hesitant breeze
sucking away its warm breathe
suffocating unquestioning inhabitants

empty tree limbs struggle under the weight
flower heads bow in submission
scattered fauna held captive in shadowy pockets
even the clear water’s reflection sits stagnant

all await the moon and the cool relief of darkness

all await a new day

Dawn Whitehand Acrylic on Paper


© Dawn Whitehand 2015


Day One Hundred and Seventy Six: 15th January 2013

Fine drizzling mist descends,
A glistening veil floating,
Draped amongst voluptuous treetops,
Tenderly enveloping and protecting,
Hiding pristine virgin landscapes.

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Day One Hundred and Seventy Five: 14th January 2013

The shimmering horizon hung expectantly,
Draped elegantly between primeval trees,
A kaleidoscope of colours dancing,
When a deafening noise erupted,
Ploughing through a pristine landscape.

And the people watched on.

Eager for progress and reward,
Forgetful of their custodial obligation,
And the future eager generations.

Now looking back in despair.

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Pastel on Handmade Paper