Some time ago I confessed to you that I’m not really a poet. Poetry is something that has in the past surprised me usually at times of great emotion. Since then, I’ve found myself writing more and enjoying the form. Yes, I guess I’m a bit like a blindfolded child trying to pin the tail on the donkey. I don’t know all the terms, patterns and forms. I don’t always get the rhyme or metre right – but its fun and there are new forms like free verse and somehow it allows me to express things I otherwise might not have said.
Then along came The Month of Poetry (MoP) . The challenge of MoP is to write one poem a day in the month of January. I was a little tempted – but really, one poem a day! But my friends Michelle and Nola said, “Go on, you can do it.” So I signed up. And I have had an absolute ball – both writing poetry, learning new forms, reading my fellow MoPettes poems, and receiving feedback.
I’m planning on signing up next January.
All of this is a long winded way to say – I am going to have to confess to being a poet. Maybe not an accomplished one, or a brilliant one – but a poet nonetheless.
I want to say a big thank you to Kat Apel – moderator and instigator of MoP. I also want to encourage you, my reader, if you have desire to tinker with poetry, don’t worry whether you have the skill or not – don’t hold back, just let go of the hidden poet.
One of the forms I learned from one of my fellow poets during MoP was the Trimeric invented by Dr Charles A Stone. It’s a neat little form. I wanted to give it a go – and I was taken by a verse in Isaiah that resonated with me. The result was my first Scriptural Trimeric.
He gently tends his flock
gathering little lambs in his arms
carries them close to his heart
shepherding those who have young.
Gathering little lambs in his arms
holding them tight and secure
our fears he softly calms.
Carries us close to his heart
hammering strong in rhythm of love
only prideful fears can push us apart.
Shepherding we who have young.
Scaling the depths of mother-father love
To his footsteps we have clung.
Based on Isa 40:11 NIV
© Jeanette O’Hagan 16 January 2014