Ovi Poetry Challenge 77: ACCEPTANCE is your inspiration.

Ronovan Ovi Challenge, , , , ,

People confuse what acceptance is. You can accept a handshake. You can accept an apology. You can accept a situation. Acceptance doesn’t mean participation in or of. There are some who accept that the past holiday of Thanksgiving exist, but they don’t participate or agree with why it exists. This is in part because they don’t know fully what the history is.

Christmas is another accept and decline event.

Of course the US has a big accept and decline event that just occurred but it’s something we must accept. We don’t need to agree with it. We don’t need to actively cheer and hoorah for it. But what we should do is hope and pray and cross our fingers, toes, and eyes that all will go well and be ever vigilant.

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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10 thoughts on “Ovi Poetry Challenge 77: ACCEPTANCE is your inspiration.”

  5. acceptance

    Each day begins with a wee thought –

    its forever there , a wee knot

    that spirals into a long shot

    as day awakens, ventures forth.

    today I face the fog at dawn,

    a short journey, a weary one,

    and through the mist, the horn blasts on,

    guiding us  to the waiting shore.

    This Wednesday morn, one well might say

    the outside world , eons away,

    politics, wars, the frantic fray,

    all exist in another time.

    Presently, upon my return,

    the poem  chafes, my taciturn

    twist, my absence, my unconcern,

    this shift to simple self-restraint.

     I sense this lull, this fleeting trance,

    is nothing more than acceptance,

    an awareness of life’s odd dance,

    a wayward waltz, no wild quickstep.

    http://www.engleson.ca

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  9. Ronovan, thank you for your prompt.

    People want to belong
    And they strive all along
    Their yearning is strong
    To be accepted by many.

    Many go along and change
    They strive to rearrange
    And do not think it strange
    For they value acceptance.

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