Tag Archives: assonance

Writing 201 Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, and Assonance

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The Ballad of a Stroll and a Photo That

Offended the Waterfowl

One day I arose

To go on a stroll

Through the streets of this old town

Built ever so long ago

Although it was a bit chilly and cold.

I strolled past the post office,

A closed café, and the grocery store.

I saw plenty of old homes

containing history of their own

And I soon found the old sign describing the town’s

Historical account with the old railroad.

The old depot I well did know

Was somewhere across that other road.

It is not far to go, you know;

Just down this street, this century old road.

Then make a right turn and then a left

Until I am strolling on Main Street due North.

I have my camera in tow with a bit of hope

That I might capture an interesting photo

To share with others and perhaps on a post.

But many times that bit of hope is quite remote

As this small town remains continuously the same.

Although I reminded myself,” you just never know

What new or interesting or sight  my eye may behold.”

I walked into the Dairy Queen to have a bit of ice cream.

Then I was eagerly so wanting to stroll to a favorite place, you know.

So I continued to stroll to the small park where the

Trees towered high in the cold as I still strolled

Down the sloping, grassy knoll to stand

Alone on the beach where the waves

Gently lapped and softly rolled.

Not expecting to see any company

On such a cold and woeful day.

But wouldn’t you know as I looked

Out I saw not one but two quiet

And graceful waterfowl.

In silence I watched them lift up

Off the rippling lake and gliding into the air.

They made almost no noise; hardly any sound.

They seemed content to not go far

But only to fly close to the nearly

Deserted lake which shone

And shimmered in their wake.

They hovered and glided

Back and forth; to and fro.

Then oh how I vainly tried

To shoot and take a photo

As I stood on a warped and sloping deck

With the flowing water down below.

Suddenly in a splash they arose

Seeming to not want their photo

Taken at all. Oh dear, oh no, they preferred

The pure quietness and absolute obscurity.

They had no wish to be known or be shown

Through a photo taken by me.

Over the years I have known

others who were too bashful to smile

and have someone snap a photo;

However, it never dawned on me

that a such a desire of anonymity

could apply also to the graceful waterfowl.

Oh woe! Their peaceful and uneventful morning

Now interrupted as they knew they weren’t alone.

So into the sky of billowing white clouds

They lifted in such haste and soared.

Not giving me one last look

nor any parting word.

Poetry 201 Assignment 7: Fingers, Prose Poetry, and Assonance

 

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Continuing in my poetry class, I was asked to write a piece of prose poetry in which the poem looks like prose but can you see the poetry within? It includes the subject of fingers and a technique known as assonance in which a repeating vowel sound is used. Can you determine what repeating vowel sound I used throughout this poem?  I hope you enjoy reading it.

Fingers on the Keyboard

Fingers floating and sliding along the plastic keys as I tried to remember the last melody. When was it that I struck a key followed by another and another? I plucked C, B, G, E, and sometimes D. Such a mystery as the last time keeps escaping me. When did I last take a seat with content upon a piano bench and played a tune with such gentle sweet ease? However now, I no longer have my grandmother’s piano, you see. Instead I have this electronic keyboard for simple melodies and that seemed just right for me.  Such a lifetime ago it was when my fingers danced gingerly and with subtle familiarity caressing and pressing those musical keys. Oh those sweet notes, the ebony and the ivory playing alternately and creating a sweet sounding melody.  When struck together they resonate in pleasing and lingering harmony. Although admittedly when oft my unpracticed fingers did glide over the black and white keys one may hear unmistakable disharmony. Many memories reside in me playing but constantly dismaying at the clash of keys in off-tuned melodies. I am not as talented as I would like to be to play this fine musical instrument; this assortment of black and white vibrating keys. Melody and harmony are too much for me and their mastery has too often eluded me.  So my fingers became still and my keyboard became silent; as quiet as can be. It serves now only as a tangible memory of my younger days when I would strive so determinedly to play a simple and sweet melody.