NaPoWriMo

DAY 26 – THE SINGER AND HIS LARK

April 26, 2019

The prompt given by the official NaPoWriMo site: To write a poem that uses repetitions.

So here I have this pretty ballad with a couple of story inside one story. And after each little story (or should I say song?) the refrain repeats itself – letting us know that it is, in fact, one story- of a singer eulogizing the power songs have to make us live many lives in one.

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THE SINGER AND HIS LARK
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O’er the merry cobbled street

A corner by the spring,

A singer with his music sweet,

The notes frae his lark ring.


Oh! Sweet Meredith with honey hair,

Oh! Love with memory’s smile,

Down the valleys on a mare

I’ll search you by the kyle


A thousand towns and strangers’ face

Won’t tear my eyes from yours

Those twinkling stars that glare with grace

Like the lantern iris of yours.


Through dry billows of desert sand,

long ribbons of camels

Men with bushy beards grand

Talk of wisdom ‘n spells


Under the waves where oceans sleeps

And lava vents blow out

I’ll look into the glassy deeps

Of squids and sharks and trouts.


Oh! Sweet Meredith with honey hair

My muse that missing long

I’ll look for you in nature’s lair

To steal you for my song


O’er the merry cobbled street

A corner by the spring,

A singer with his music sweet,

The notes frae his lark ring.


The warrior’s steel sword gliniting in sun

The heavy hoof of horse beats.

The call of war and soldiers run

To victory and glory that greets.


A samurai with his wooden stick

A deep exhale of silence,

An art of war, a long learnt trick

To find peace in violence.


Realm fray’s weaved with blood

And skulls that dot the slaughter,

As banners and kings and destriers tread

The pages of history grow fatter.


And through the ruins of battlements

And silence, the anguish ring,

War’s a glory, a story of thence

That my lark will today string.


O’er the merry cobbled street

A corner by the spring,

A singer with his music sweet,

The notes frae his lark ring.


A misty alcove, cald in velvet

In lamplight, orb in hand,

A crone unfolding life’s secret

stolen from death’s own hand.


Of words in void and silence, spoke

That hag with nighty eyes,

Of abstinence and sin’s soft stroke

And countless worldly lies.


Far frae the march of human sounds

Talking with day and night

Like years before this world was round

Men singing of nature’s light.


O’er the merry cobbled street

A corner by the spring,

A singer with his music sweet,

The notes frae his lark ring.


And dawn to dusk he stroke his lark

Enlivening the square,

Though men passed by with solemn frowns

Deaf to his richness rare.


Oh dames and dukes of modest lives!

Do hear these tales from yonder

A man who knows but his drab life

Is blind to this world’s wonder.


So hear, hear these stirring stories

gathered from far and long

A singer delights a thousand glees

A life as rich as a song.


O’er the merry cobbled street

A corner by the spring,

A singer with his music sweet,

The notes frae his lark ring.

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I am inviting you all to join me in this venture. Use the prompt given above to craft your own verses.
And oh, be sure to tag me.

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#NaPoWriMo

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© 2019 Sahana Narendran

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