The Poet

The Poet

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Midnight Lady; A Poetry Exercise; April 18, 2017

 Hello friends and followers,
This is a very special post for me. There will be no guest poet's page this episode because, they are all here on the home page. Earlier this month I issued a challenge. It was answered and, answered in fine form. Said challenge is reprinted below. Please note that many of the poems, those marked with this symbol * were submitted without a title so, I created one, for purposes of this post only,  from words or phrases in the poem. Also; in some poems the poem formatted in such a way that even using the smallest print readable, the integrity of the original layout was lost. I posted them anyway because they were too good to leave out. Such poems are marked with the + symbol. Finally, there were many poetry forms used, from classic romantic to hip-hop. I was thinking "There's everything here except a Limerick"; I remedied that. Friends, sit back and enjoy!
Humbly Ron

Since April is (in the US at least) "Poetry Appreciation Month" I am offering an exercise for you all. Below is a poem I wrote a few months ago and it is posted below. The exercise I propose is as follows: take this poem, write an original poem on the theme and post it. Please use the Title as a line in the poem. try to (but not mandatory) incorporate the Image of "the dark lady"; magic/ occult/ spiritual reference and; the duality of human nature (both good and evil). I hope you have some fun with this and, I will post all submission on my poetry page this month, unless you ask that I do not. I hope you guys join me in this; you ARE my favorite writers. Use any style or form you choose. 

All Poems are the copyrighted intellectual property of the writers and protected under international and national copyright laws. Violate said rights and we WILL prosecute.

She wears midnight; she wears it well.
A veil of ebon shrouds her face,
lace trim outlines her jet black satin skirt.
Even the dirt at her feet sings praises
though hazes and mists rise from the ground;
Her footfall hushed- she passed unseen,
like fiend or wraith from a tale of horror.
Pale as alabaster; lovely as a night blooming flower
This is her hour, when all is dark and still;
She wanders where she covets; does what she will;
Weaves magic works - both charm and spell.
Heavenly hostess? Harbinger of hell?
None tongue can tell, obscured from sight,
neath dark new moon, she wears midnight.

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