Today’s prompt asked us to write a kenning poem–a poem made up of metaphorical descriptions of something without calling the actual thing by its name. I have to tell you, I’ve been stumped all day. Can I write a kenning poem about the forest? The moon? A flower? The sky?
The All Mother holds us and watches us.
Wears her robes of blue and green magnificence,
never holds her breath
but lets it move us as it moves the sky ocean.
All her children are beautiful to her
but some of her children are ignorant,
in particular the biped children–
they squabble a lot,
fighting over their many toys.
Their squabbling hurts the All Mother.
Watching her greedy biped children
burning her silent, wooden green children
to clear more space for their greediness.
And those of her children who swim in her womb
and who fly through her lungs
and who run over her fertile body–
these are the ones who suffer loss of their homes
to the greedy biped children who
cannot sate the insatiable.
And still the All Mother holds us all and watches us,
never holding her breath,
but letting it move us as it moves the sky ocean.