Chalenj #MiSkriBa an jydh yw assaya skrifa bardonek dha honan a wra usya rim, mes heb holya rewlys hirder linennow. Avel rann extra, gwra kampollans a son pur arbennek, kepar ha’n morverk yn bardhonek Robert Hillyer, Fog.
Nyns yw pur dha genev ow assay hedhyw, mes ottena va yn poran, assay. Ha gwell yw henna es travyth!
The #NaPoWriMo challenge today is to try writing a poem of your own that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound, like the buoy in Robert Hillyer’s poem, Fog.
I'm not particularly happy with today's attempt, but that's just it, an attempt. Better that than nothing!
Koskus
War ven an mena Yn-mysk rewyow chiow gell, Le mayth usi koos keow ow triga Yn-dann ebron bell. Deves klor a lesk, Ow peudhi, Yn gwelyow hebask Ha ni, an fordh a-rag, orth hy helli.
Yetys koth yn gothi an tir Owth omhowla, ha rudhhe wrons, Yn kammow re hir, Re gammel aga hyns. Ydhyn freudhek y'ga neyj Ow neuvya yn dagrow ayr, I a grack war gerrygi na gryj Bos anelladow an dowr.
Sygerans lent a dev A brenn yn-dann donnow du Owth ystyn lev Yn degemerans lu’. Ottena plowgh Ha dowrow anesyes ow karma Farwell yn tistowgh, Ha'n dons ow tifolya Pubtra esa unweyth glas Dhe leys pri yn gwisk gorm. Y kodhyn yn poos War bub torn.
| Sleepy
At the mountain’s base Amongst brown terraced rows, Where woody hedges live beneath distant skies. Meek sheep rock, Drowning, In peaceful fields And we lose it, the way ahead.
Old gates in veins of land Sunbathing, they redden, In steps too long, Too crooked their path. Violent birds in flight Swimming in drops of air, They break on rocks that don’t believe That the water is breathable.
A slow trickle grows From wood beneath dark waves Reaching a voice In exhausted reception. Then there’s a splash As unease waters shout A hasty farewell, While the dance defiles All that once was blue To claylike mud in brownish guise. We fall heavily At every turn.
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