Sunrise

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My early call to rise rings out at the same time ever morning, 5 am. Every morning, at 5 am, I rock myself out of a shallow sleep, gather the scattered pieces of my focus and brace myself, ready to face the budding day at its root. I loathed dawn for so long, returning to it only through necessity.

I recently found hidden value and beauty in those early hours. It wasn’t the way in which the horizon bled as the sun stalked the weakening night sky. It wasn’t the tranquil air, alive with a heady mix of possibility and bird song , it was something different. It was the way it mediated my conflicting thoughts and gave my hope a backbone, the way it allowed my compass to settle to a true north, it allowed me to breath in the realisation that, like that rising sun, coming from everywhere, to embrace everything, I have to go far from comfort to pierce the blackness.

My eyes are drawn to the morning sun, with envy and curiosity. When 5 am arrives, I rise to chase a dream.

 

SUNRISE

As your golden arcs dissolve the night, I wonder where you’ve been.

you trace the distance silhouettes with ribbons of foreign fire.

Fermenting the swollen shadows by imposing your rosy sheen,

as your golden arcs dissolve the night, I wonder where you’ve been.

I’ve been tested by dawns return, the burn of an auburn, keen

to unfold the day, invoke a steam to power our souls desire.

With your golden arcs dissolving night, I wonder where you’ve been,

you trace the distance silhouettes with ribbons of foreign fire.

–  Triolet

(c) Saili Katebe

Why I love Ellaine!!

wedding-photo-couple-holding-hands-jennifer-moher-photography-ontario-canada

 

 

The completion of Writing 201 was never to be the end of my poetic education. There will never be enough to learn, I wanted more. There is a wide range of tools that can claim my personal poetic arsenal as home, and I welcome them willingly, Its an incredible exercise in growth.. I made the acquaintance of the Villanelle at my first poetry workshop, Its a 19 line form that has 2 refrains inserted in particular portions of the piece, see if you can spot them. I would like to see more villanelles, the repetition was a tricky, but fun feature to implement. Here is mine, I hope I see yours too.

 

 

They pressed a promise to my palm, those nimble fingers, Miss Elaine,

Teased away the seething tumult, seeding sense to slay decay,

Miss Elaine, you’ve lent a hand that led my hopes away from pain.

 

Time has taught you tenderness, time and time again you’ve slain,

the numbing rein of doubt and angst, your golden touch has saved my days,

They pressed a promise to my palm, those nimble fingers, Miss Elaine.

 

Through every annum we faced as one, your warm embrace was my refrain

Those shallow grooves that trace your palm have funnelled happiness my way

Miss Elaine, you’ve lent a hand that led my hopes away from pain.

 

I stood beside you, at an alter your hands had forged for us to claim.

Forged with trust, your fingers crushed all uncertainty away,

They pressed a promise to my palm, those nimble fingers, Miss Elaine.

 

The seamless mould of interlocking calm, intimately framed

palms, claimed a couple, cupping hearts and slaying greys.

Miss Elaine you’ve lent a hand that led my hopes away from pain.

 

You saw the calluses in my character that taught the world to wield disdain,

and chose the strange approach, you stayed and washed the resin of hapless waves,

They pressed a promise to my palm, those nimble fingers, Miss Elaine,

Miss Elaine you’ve lent a hand that led my hopes away from pain.

 

(c) Saili Katebe