Banner Mountain Girl # 68 – a Lai form of poetry

This poem is a Lai, an ancient French form. I’m sharing the pattern along with my first attempt at writing a Lai.  Interesting use of rhyme in this little ditty.

Not So Happy Valentine

5 a —  On Valentine’s Day
5 a —  she ventured to say,
2 b —  be mine.
5 a —  His reply was nay
5 a —  and she felt dismay.
2 b — Bad sign,
5 a — for Cupid’s display
5 a — to rudely convey
2 b — decline.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

candy

Banner Mountain Girl # 60 -“Whicker Bill” Riley

unknown grave
“Whicker Bill” Riley
(1903—1925)

I always thought Maude Henry
and her three daughters were so
pretty ridin’ their mules. They rode
them mules wherever they went. Maude
was a widder woman—had been for six
years when their four mules got stole,
right out of that shabby, old barn settin’
on the side of Brock Mountain. One of ‘em
was Maude’s bug-eyed mule, called Ned.
That critter was half-blind, I tell ya’ fer sure.
The sheriff, he nailed up a poster
down at the courthouse—a picture took
last May of Maude and her girls ridin’
them mules to a cousin’s weddin’.
Yesterday mornin’ the Henrys walked
two miles to Kill Devil Creek, where they
come to my hangin’. Them and everybody
else in Waycross County. I swore
up and down that I didn’t steal
them mules. They hung me anyway.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

NOTE:  This may be a Spoon River Poem, but I don’t guarantee that it is! 🙂

two donkeys

Banner Mountain Girl # 54 — A Friend Never Says Goodbye

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grackles

A Friend Never Says Goodbye 

A friend is one who stands nearby.
When others go their way,
a friend arrives to stay,
to laugh with you or sometimes cry.
One who will hold your hand
and always understand,
a friend will never say goodbye.

                                                             © Freeda Baker Nichols

 

 

 

Banner Mountain Girl # 48 — “A poem begins . . .”

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness . . . It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.”–Robert Frost

At the age of nine, I had not heard of Robert Frost when I wrote my first poem, there at Banner Mountain in the two room schoolhouse. But my first poem was about love for my mother. My words rhymed, and I’m sure I was following the teacher’s instructions when I penned my first masterpiece onto the page of that Big Chief tablet.

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But it would be many years before I set foot on my journey into writing and poetry. And now, I continue with writing and poetry because they are my destiny. The journey is still adventurous and lovely, sometimes frustrating but always satisfying. I agree with the quote by Robert Frost on how a poem begins. He created masterpieces!

~ Freeda Baker Nichols