(As some of you know, I pick a specific poetic form each month, and any poem composed in that month uses – or tries to use – that form. It’s a way of giving myself a bit of discipline! This month it is the ghazal. I was inspired to attempt the ghazal by the late Cynthia Jobin and by my blogging friend Uma. I hope this attempt does them proud enough…)
Pierced by lightning, skies split open wide.
Thrashed with loss my cries split open wide.
Poppy bud bright red with fecund stamen
bursts out as soldiers die split open wide.
Gnarled log once lord of all the forest trees
on earthen floor now lies split open wide.
Full-term ripe womb about to shed its fruit,
breaks its waters, falls, sighs, split open wide.
We shake our words as dice in hand are played,
and Bruce has tossed his die split open wide.