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
