The sevenling was created by Roddy Lumsden.
This 7-line poem is split into three stanzas.
The first three lines should contain an element of three. It could be three connected or contrasting statements, a list of three details or names, or something else along these lines. The three things can take up all three lines or be contained anywhere within the stanza.
The second three lines should also contain an element of three. The two stanzas do not need to relate to each other directly.
The final line/stanza should present a narrative summary, punchline, or unusual juxtaposition.
Titles are not required. If titles are used, they should be titled Sevenling followed by the first few words in parentheses.
The tone can be mysterious, offbeat or disturbing.
However, with the turbulent weather conditions and the accompanying destruction we’ve been experiencing in the States, I’m asking you to write on the theme of Hope in your sevenling.
WALT’S HOPEFUL EXAMPLE:
SEVENLING (OUR HEARTS GO OUT)
Our hearts go out to the victims of destruction
knowing reconstruction will be long and hard.
Our hearts are heavy for the losses they encounter.
We can offer our thoughts and prayers
We can give financial assistance.
but no amount of resistance will let us
ever forget, we are all in God’s hands
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017
Poems of Garden Gnomes 
SEVENLING (ABRAHAM TOOK HIS PEN)
Abraham took his pen and signed emancipation.
Martin chose to demonstrate in peaceful marches.
John was a man of promise, shot down too early.
Just when we need Him, folks desert Him.
The world’s allure blinds the prideful.
Satan basks in his sinful social skills.
Our only hope is hope itself.
#
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Amen, my friend. Men of principle are taken from us, leaving us to deal with the darker side of life. More prayers to resurrect hope, Sal.
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Sevenling The Right Side
The right side is frozen.
He sounds like he’s drunk.
He has no strength.
An ambulance ride.
PT, OT, and ST
Wheelchair, walker, gait belt
Walking, talking, writing better each day.
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Strength and determination in every step, every day. Thank you, Connie.
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Home Prayers
In arid lands, the trivial and mundane fade
while we linger on trust in heaven’s wings
though a dream feels more real.
This new history writes itself without our ink.
Faith, hope, and love surge within the winds,
rains, and floods while home awaits our footsteps.
A thousand prayers are whispered every second.
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Beautiful, Janice! Each breath becomes a prayer.
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Sevenling (Hope is the other side)
Hope is the other side of despair,
hope is the helpless cousin to prayer,
hope is what’s left when nothing else is there.
I want to turn it into intention,
I want to transform it into action,
or better, use it in advance as prevention.
But sometimes there is only rage and blame.
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Another vivid portrayal, Rosemary! That last line stabs at the heart. Thanks for this.
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Up there on the north side
of the house where moss clings
emerald thick on the roof tiles,
and where the grey lead gutters
broaden into thirsty throats for rain
and sag from the pressing years,
I found a solitary daisy growing.
.
Note: written on the road from Aarhus from Copenhagen
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What a vivid picture you’ve given us. It’s like a snapshot from your travels.
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Sbeautiful, Misky!
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Or even beautiful – scuse typo.
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Vivid imagery, Misk. The stark picture of that solitary daisy stands out.
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Poems of Garden Gnomes
FORM FRIDAY – SEVENLING
Sevenling sounds rather gnomish – don’t you think?
Here is my late night attempt
—
Sevenling – (my head is nodding)
my head is nodding as I sit in this chair
my eyes are drooping, my eyelids flutter
my vision’s blurry and it’s getting hard to think
my bed is soft and dented in all the right places
covers are turned down since I didn’t make it this morning
the pillow is firm but not too firm
all my hopes for tomorrow
are only a dream away
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Definitely gnomish, or even hobbit-like. Write sevenlings to read at their elevensies. . .
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What a lovely prospect!
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Dreams of hope and pride will rule the night, Candy. Good write!
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What goes in a writer’s toolbox?
Eyes that see past the veil, ears that hear what is left unspoken, a heart that wonders
Her own body the one irreplaceable tool
What comes from a writer’s pen?
Hidden paths made plain, silent words written for all to read, leaking lifeblood
The ultimate in reality entertainment
If only to exchange singular pain for universal hope
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If only.
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So true, Darlene. Hope is always a prerequisite to life.
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Sevenling, Homes are swept away
Homes are swept away like children’s toys,
useless brooms broken in the wind.
Hardship of cleanup and loss
faces community, everyone touched
by a common fierce enemy. Neighbors help neighbors.
In shelters, all children connect.
Disasters do not discriminate; eyes hold hope.
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Yes, that is one blessing, the way it brings out neighbourliness.
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We must always cling to hope. No one should be left as hope less. A direct hit, Sara.
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Thanks!
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