Ovi Poetry Challenge 39: FAMILY is your inspiration.

Recently I reconnected with a half-sister I have, I think she’s 2 years older. It’s probably been over fifty years since we last saw each other and it’s been a bit strange learning about each other but fun as well discovering the many things we have in common as far as our likes and dislikes. (Whoa, I gave a hint at my age.)

OVI POETRY

Ovi is a syllabic/metre poetry form. In this case, Ovi is from India, originating in the Marathi language. The Ovi  has been in use in written form since the 13th Century, but the women’s ovee/ovi predates the literary form by at least the 12th Century.

The Ovi are in general, lyrical folk songs expressing love, social irony, and heroic events. They are written in the following scheme.

4 line stanzas, as few as one stanza and up to as many as you like.

8 syllables or less per line

Rhyming is AAAb. The second stanza would be CCCd. The third, EEEf. And so on. Meaning nothing in one stanza must rhyme with anything in the previous stanza. The fourth line does not rhyme.

Example:

Roly Poly by Judi Van Gorder

The big toothed tot with golden hair
picked up a bug on Sister’s dare,
it rolled into a ball right there
and won her springtime heart.

Notice the rhyming pattern is AAAb or
A
A
A
b

My Attempt

Blue flowers continue to grow,
with the shadow’s making them glow,
giving life to darkness and woe,
dying each year to yet return.

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6 thoughts on “Ovi Poetry Challenge 39: FAMILY is your inspiration.

  1. Families

    As time wears down, the years ascend,

    …descend…until the final bend,

    the twist of time, the last breath end

    and there we are, my family.

    There are the blood relationships,

    spread ‘cross the land like poker chips,

    remembrances of auto trips,

    brief hellos, fleeting goodbyes, ciao.

    And there are communal soulmates,

    protests, and late at night debates,

    psychedelic joys, common plates

    of shared cuisine, and drink, and love.

    Images, the warmth of past days,

    drift in from time to time, the waves

    of yesteryear, that sweet smoke haze

    that set the stage for all I am.

    http://www.engleson.ca

    Liked by 1 person

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