I like the way the syllable count forces language, creates opportunity for new thinking. Today’s prompt from Ethical ELA asked writers to come up with a line of a poem and continue with poem using the same number of syllables in each line. As I walked the beach this morning, I kept thinking about the monsoonal moisture promised by the weather forecasters–and the fact that I know it won’t result in the rain we need so much. I found myself obsessed with rain as I walked, counting syllables in my head. Here’s the resulting draft and the beautiful sky last night that fueled today’s obsessive thinking.

Summer Rainless Song

A pitty pat pat

the sound I don’t hear

except in my dreams

water all around

but not on the ground

Monsoonal moisture

parched earth, cloud-filled skies

precipitation

promised rainfall – gone!

no pitty pat pat

Tinderbox of fear

drought-dried brush, fire fuel

inferno rages

in my brain, waiting

wishing for the sound

And the smell of rain

pitter patter pat

living in dryness

monsoonal moisture

waiting for rain

@kd0602