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    Parker Owens
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  • 190 Words
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  • 15 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 60. Kimo Calendar

I was recently introduced to a the poetic form Kimo. For those wanting to try one, this is a three-line counted-syllable poetic form, originating in Israel. The form has ten syllables in the first line, seven in the second and six in the third. A Kimo is unrhymed and must be a static snapshot in its imagery; that is, there must be no movement or motion in it.
You can judge whether this Kimo Calendar works. As usual, all errors are my own.

Kimo Calendar

 

January’s river stands immobile,

frozen hard in mid-ripple,

its sweet laughter silenced.

 

Two February shovels rest aslant,

weary against the door frame,

exhausted by the snow.

 

Improbable March winter aconites

bloom where the slow melting drifts

await the first robin.

 

Clouds of April’s snowy apple blossoms

show off for the ardent bees

heedless of the late frost.

 

Brand-new May butterflies sun themselves,

iridescent, yet hidden

in their fragility.

 

A waxing silver moon lights the June sky,

its beams glinting soundlessly

off the constellations.

 

Late sun angles on the July outfield,

warming both body and glove

until something happens.

 

An August dawn across the lake is spread

upon a face smooth as glass

and painted in mountains.

 

Beneath September’s cooling, leaf strewn soil

beets and parsnips lie disguised

in bright green foliage.

 

Drawn to an October zinnia

a motionless honeybee

rests in the chill sunset.

 

Within a featureless November sky

pregnant with restrained tempests

the snowflakes bide their time.

 

Against a bright blue December morning

an ancient white-clad spruce soars,

prideful in its new coat.

Any thoughts, comments or reactions are most welcome. I value anything you might have to say.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
  • Love 11
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

A perfect snapshot of each month. What an intriguing form. So much imagery without any movement... I loved each verse and found myself smiling throughout. 

 

"Within a featureless November sky

pregnant with restrained tempests

the snowflakes bide their time."

 

Yes, November holds its breath at times... and so do we as we await the coming freeze. This is just one of those perfect snapshots. Well done, sir. :worship: 

 

 

 

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5 hours ago, northie said:

I am so pleased you took up the suggestion (not mine) to write a full calendar of kimos. You manage the motionless snapshot effortlessly - at least, it reads that way. ;) Favourites? February definitely. I imagine the shovels' owners doing exactly the same thing. And July, I think. There is something about a playing pitch in July (be it baseball or cricket) which seems timeless. Congratulations, these are great.

February took a very long time to write. The snapshot is harder to write than I imagined. I’m very happy you liked July. I have memories of being in the eternal outfield as a boy. Thanks very much for encouraging me in these. 

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5 hours ago, Headstall said:

A perfect snapshot of each month. What an intriguing form. So much imagery without any movement... I loved each verse and found myself smiling throughout. 

 

"Within a featureless November sky

pregnant with restrained tempests

the snowflakes bide their time."

 

Yes, November holds its breath at times... and so do we as we await the coming freeze. This is just one of those perfect snapshots. Well done, sir. :worship: 

 

 

 

I’m glad you noticed November. It’s no surprise that the winter and pre-winter months seem to get more lines and attention. The winter seems to last so long. I’m glad you liked that month particularly, as it was very satisfying.  Thanks so much for reading and responding! 

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