Summer Haiku

Neath cornflowered skies

Veiled clouds merely passing;

My friend is smiling

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Sonnet of a wild future

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To know that life is now, not then nor when;
Is utterly unknown to human strife,
So obvious to every child of man
But I proclaim; there is no clock to life

Future’s absence proves no Boston cream pie,
Since clocks and globes both spherical appear,
Likewise the theory of space and time;
What was will be and then, soon leave us clear

Wild horses adds the beauty to our time
What man released the wild refined again
As true as sonnets need reclaim the rhyme;
If we preserve the free, our lives regain

Believe when nature feels what words repent;
The coldest season is a spring’s descent

© Mikael Werner

Writing 201
The tenth, and last day’s assignment was to write a “Sonnet” about “Future” and to use the device “Chiasmus”.

Ode to the Heart of my Rose

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O’ Wild Prairie Rose stretch out, what a glorious day
You, the sweetest enchantress of this northern land
Canter from hither to dither and far and away

The nest where your heart resides is carved by hand,
Crafted in Dalbergia Abbreviate; a rosewood chest
There’s nothing in this widely world it cannot withstand

While spring-like warmth upon the grass as you rest
Awakens a reluctant dweller in this work of art,
Your heart; it waits and breathers like an unwilling guest

My rose, my horse I feel your pounding heart
The chest is strong but will not take much more
When spring is here it strikes like Amors dart

Then your eager heart rips out the weakest drawer
And escapes with a powerful neigh of a ghastly roar!

Writing 201
The eighth day’s assignment was prompted “drawer” in the form of an “ode” and to use the device “apostrophe”.

The Fog

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The eerie beings sweeps over the pasture for dew,
And leaves the mares in hazy air concealed.

The naked hooves so gently caress the meadow anew,
Such a motionless awe lies o’er the field.

The oldest mare, a fair blue roan lifts up her head,
And in an airy voice she calls my name;

Come close my friend, step out of there and leave your shed.
The fog moved on as I approached the dame.

For hundreds of years you’ve engineered a darker truth;
The Spirit world is shy and shun from thee.

Again I challenge you to fix your wisdom tooth,
Reclaim your former nature, live by the lea.

The loss of light shone through the forest, so barren and cleft
The night embraced the land, just hope was left.

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Writing 201
The fifth day’s assignment was prompted “fog” in the form of an “elegy” and to use the device “metaphor”.