Today is a composite prompt... a monologue/ghazal/color prompt/forest/shade... which didn't exactly happen BECAUSE of the prompts -- but having skimmed quite a few poems and re-read the essay in which TS Eliot talks about "transforming" what we read, which has been coined as "great writers steal" (which is not quite what he said)... here is a draft.
I love the color teal -- love that it has a long history in different languages, although first used in earnest as color in 1917, and comes from a water-drake's eyes -- love that by saying teal-blue or teal green, it combines to be more of one than another... part of the prompt was to use the opposite association w/ the color -- so any mention of man-made fashion is completely out to dress "Spring"!
She has her own colors and sounds.
I'm not liking the way the blog is squishing my lines. I'm hoping that I fixed the settings...
A ghazal is in couplets. "teal" is the last word of the 2nd line. I did use a "takhallus" (pen name) which can be a nickname. In my case, my childhood nickname: Kit.
**
Spring
Teal I see you, teal, as if a lake contains you, teal—
not a banner nor the drake with eyes ringed with teal.
In morning, you mist into light, drizzle with rain,
reflecting in each drop light ringed with coral and teal.
You are free from, ice, alive in frog-dropped splash
peepers’ peel, robin call, a greenish symphony of sound and teal.
You are magic key lifting a fiddlehead ring, you are shake of blossom.
apple snow and cherry sweep, in a sky more azure than teal.
Ah how you stir the fox kit’s heart, as he leaves the birthing den
ready now to thread his long red tale through the woods dappled with teal.
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