little star
hiding her shyness
behind cumulonimbus words
sparkling enigma not for plucking
father says
aging star
waiting for a breeze to clear the sky
burning cold only shrinking
secrets never told
father gone
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Today at dVerse MTB wants us to explore his adopted cinquain, with one extra syllable added to each line as explained in his post here. See you all at 3PM EST.
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January 29, 2015

There’s something quite sad about this poem, Bjorn, very touching. Thanks. K.
I agree there is a sadness. Secrets never told… beautiful work
These words have a quiet comfort to them. Very nice.
Completely captivating!
very inspiring
nicely done with the before and after picture of the same girl…love the “cumulonimbus words”
i can hope for father but that heart will surely be broken…
secrets untold really opens this up…
what father does not know, wont hurt him….hopefully…
I love how you’ve worked the form and content; each stanza being a mirror of the other in both. Looks like we might have stumbled onto something good with this ‘new’ form … smiles
I like the way you have worked with youth and age. Some secrets best remain secrets as far as the father goes perhaps. Smiles.
A perfect use of the prompt, of course, easy-peasy for you, brother; but a sweet mirror image, yin-yang, young/old contrast; & how cool to drive us to a dictionary to find out the latin for “storm clouds”; excellent work, sir.
I like the contrast between the two stanzas, as well as the painting you chose.
Oh, how lovely – I was about to say that your first poem reminded me of a Grigorescu painting – and boom, there it is! Thank you, how wonderful to see it again! I’m sure he has a painting somewhere of an old woman with a white veil. Yep, found it.
I loved the painting when I found it.. so alive .. and I actually wrote the poem first and found the painting afterwards.. I love wikiart.org
Perfection….and love the painting with the new form.
Oh! That is certainly evocative. The before and the after image make us feel for her. Beautifully done.
very successful poem and form, art played well here.
How sad this is, secrets never told.
What secrets I wonder…
Excellent!
Anna :o]
father says… father gone great bones to this piece
A poignant portrait indeed! Sad to think the star will shrink away with beautiful secrets never told.. a life lived behind the veil.
For many, secrets themselves are a veil. I often think this when I look into stranger’s eyes (especially women’s eyes). Could not imagine what it must be like to have to wear a real veil, a restriction thankfully unknown to me….yet your poem has shown me the heart of what it is like. Really soulful work.
I think we all have restrictions, a veil is apparent and visible.. but I think there are more subtle veils as well.
This made me reflect on the role of father’s in our lives ~ Some fathers take a firm hand in a child’s upbringing, while others are just “gone” ~
Too busy, just visiting ~ Happy Friday ~
Very touching.
This is so sweet and charming.
very moving and reads so well. thankyou.
a poem with a beginning and an end and a “middle” that make us imagine what happened. I like it.
An entertaining slice of life, viewed from both ends. He who has no secrets has led a dull life. : )
I love the image of “cumulonimbus words.” I think of words being concrete and close by, but this forced me to think of them as more amorphous and far away. Peace, Linda
I like the mirror of the form and of the woman’s youth and old age.
Once again you’ve made form fresh and alive. Very touching!
Two of a kind but reacting differently. Thoughtful take Bjorn!
Hank
Secrets, do indeed, morph life. I have seen it to be so, many times.
I love this, Bjorn. Oh, you have no idea how much meaning it has for me – I found this ceramic in December, & bought one each for the girls & me.. “Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in Heaven, where the Love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon Us, to let us know they are Happy”. It has helped all of us in our grief – we all have it hanging from our bedside lamps, so we see it every night, and every morning… And this poem – oh, I feel it encapsulates what we’ve been going through, so beautifully. Sadly..
Many women live lives like that. First it’s the father, then the husband.Well done, Bjorn. — Suzanne.
There is a point of o return… even in love.