Today's prompt is a farewell poem.
NO MORE GOODBYES
I never will leave you
Alone in this walk.
My life would be so blue
If we could not talk.
The words are no problem,
They roll off the tongue.
No thought do we give them
When our talk is done.
I have two today.
prompt - miscommunication
SAID
You said,
I'll always love you.
I heard,
I'll always love you.
You said,
I slept with my old girlfriend.
I heard,
I didn't mean to, it won't happen again.
You said,
You are the one I love.
I heard,
You are the one I love.
You said,
I'll always love you.
I heard,
I'll ALWAYS love YOU.
You said,
I will wait for you.
I heard,
I will give you the time you need to clear up your stuff.
You said,
I need to get away.
I heard,
I'm going out into the bush to clear my head.
You said,
I've met this girl.
I heard,
I love her now, not you.
You said,
I'll always love you.
I heard
It is YOU I REALLY want.
You said,
I am seeing this girl again.
I heard,
She is where my future is.
You said,
I have my own place now, come visit.
I heard,
Just give me warning so I won't be with my new gal when you come.
You said,
I'll always love you.
I heard,
But not as much as I love her.
You said,
I can't conceive a future without you.
I heard,
Someday we'll be together.
You said,
You'll always have a place in my heart.
I heard,
It's you I really want to be with.
You said,
I'll leave her when you're free.
I heard,
She is just to fill the gap.
You said,
I love this girl, I don't want to hurt her.
I heard,
It really is over.
The prompt for today was Never ____
NEVER SAY NEVER
It started early.
I'll never get married,
famous last words.
It picked up speed.
I'll never
wear bell bottoms,
wear straight legs,
live in a city.
The snowball grew.
I'll never
go backpacking,
forgive you,
love again.
Never say never.
The prompt for the 25th was 'an event.'
I put that one off till after last night's recital and here is my 'event' poem.
RECITAL
Twenty four faces,
little, not so little,
all different ages
and stages.
Violin, cello;
easy and advanced,
open strings,
concerti.
Classical, Fiddle
Twinkle, Twinkle,
Soldier's Joy,
Seitz, Vivaldi.
Bouts with nerves,
and tears,
and stunning
success.
Ooops, I meant to post this yesterday.
Yesterday's prompt was longing.
This piece is short and I had written it before I saw the prompt but it fit so I used it anyway.
tomorrow will be
four weeks alcoholic like
I keep count
April 24ths prompt was to write about a journey.
JOURNEY TO PEACE
Anger,
the mask of fear.
Anger,
white hot.
Anger,
plotting revenge.
Forgiveness,
unimaginable.
Forgiveness,
empty words.
Forgiveness,
deliberate, sincere.
Joy,
brief, fleeting.
Joy,
courted.
Joy,
bubbling peace.
I've gotten rather badly behind. I meant to catch back up today but this one poem has been kicking my butt. A Villanelle is a killer form to write. Anywho, here it is.
The prompt for April 23 was regret. It seemed to me that the subject deserved an obsessive form.
MY REGRETS
I wish I'd dared to let you see my heart,
it's always been so hard for me to share,
it would have been a worthy place to start.
You hold yourself as separate and apart;
it seems you've lost the heart and will to care.
I wish I'd dared to let you see my heart,
I lacked the courage needed to impart
my soul, to let you see the scars in there;
it would have been a worthy place to start.
I wish I might by some sweet gentle art
restore our love, effect a sure repair;
I wish I'd dared to let you see my heart,
Given the chance, I'd play a different part
and turn this farce away from dark despair.
It would have been a worthy place to start.
I ask that from my love you not depart,
I cannot with an ideal mom compare,
I wish I'd dared to let you see my heart;
it would have been a worthy place to start.
Today's prompt is not yet up.
Here is the poem for April 20. The prompt was to write about rebirth.
TIME LAPSE PHOTOGRAPHY
Close up sequence.
The old mare,
solitary figure,
alone to die.
She lowers herself
gently to the earth,
her mother.
Macro shot sequence.
Blow fly,
bright green,
feeds on open eye,
lays eggs,
flies off.
Eggs hatch,
maggots eat,
pupate,
leave corpse
to burrow into
mother earth.
Telephoto sequence from up wind.
Buzzards circle.
One descends,
feeds,
is joined by his peers.
Telephoto lens sequence.
A cat perches
atop torn body,
tears small bites.
Night photography sequence.
A dog paws
tattered brown skin,
rolls.
Macro sequence.
Beetles scurry
through grisly bones,
cleaning.
Standard lens sequence.
Rain washes,
whitens;
sun bleaches,
purifies.
Snow blankets,
melts,
returns,
cleansing cycles.
Macro sequence.
Mother gives birth,
tiny sprout erupts,
grows lusty
in enriched soil.
Standard lens sequence
Vines cover white arches,
blossoms burst forth
where once death reigned.
Today's prompt was to work work into the work. (Sorry, couldn't resist.) I teach violin to small students.
DANCE
The music begins,
Twinkle played out of rhythm
and I sway,
tap a toe,
pencil on desk.
Feel it inside.
Let it dance.
OK, so I've skipped yesterday's prompt. I promise to get back to it.
I had to laugh when I opened my blog to make this post because the last poem posted is haiku format 5-7-5 while lacking the essential nature subject of a true haiku and today's prompt was to write a haiku. Of course, this being Tuesday there was a double prompt, with the second part being to write an anti-haiku. So here they are. I reckon you will be able to tell which is which.
Dogwoods shining white
on woodland's barren fringes,
springtime's gentle snow.
Speak not of strict form
with seventeen syllables,
haiku not for me.
The prompt for April 19 was to write about something angry. I thought I might be able to draw on some of my own emotion but what I discovered is that I'm no longer angry. Sure and I get moments of deep negative emotion but it blows over faster than a summer rain shower. Probably a very good thing.
BOIL
Small skin volcano
swelling with viscous pus;
vile eruption.
Prompt # 18 was to write a poem with an interaction of some sort. So maybe my choice is a touch macabre but in the woods behind my mother's house, a hillside where they can't take a tractor, a horse is returning to the earth that nourished her. Pray the wind direction doesn't change.
Ol' Nell
She lay down one last time,
lowered her head,
submitted to cruel fate.
In no time the fly had arrived,
deposited eggs,
moved on.
Rain washed over her brown coat;
moving air toweled her off.
Larvae tunneled.
She lies there, passive.
The black birds circle.
She does not move.
They come closer.
The bravest lands
and begins his feast.
All her life she has given,
unselfish, gentle.
In death she gives yet again.
Today's challenge to write a poem with the following title: "All I want is ______,"
This one was a bugger. Made worse by the stupid idea that it wanted rhyme and form. What's with that I ask you? I thought I had moved beyond rhyme and form, for Pete's sake.
OK so here it is. *shakes head*
All I Want Is To Be Me
When I was little Momma
told me who to be.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
I wore my pretty dresses
right up into the tree.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
My brother taught me secrets
in the shed on the alley.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
I galloped all the way to school,
a stallion wild and free.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
I came of age and married,
convention's devotee.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
A strange, unsettled life I lived
adrift upon the sea.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
I broke the rules, discovered love
forbidden artistry.
All I ever wanted
is simply to be me.
Another day, another prompt. "Pick a color, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem that is inspired by that color."
OK, I have several ideas. And the winner is...
Pink
Jelly between toast;
it spreads itself across the eastern sky
separating the darkness from the darkness.
Memories of mornings deliciously shared,
jealously guarded
in cardboard boxes.
'Tis a gift to be simple,
'tis a gift to be free.
Rose quartz on windowsill
catches midday's rays,
scatters them brightly
across hardwood floors;
life imbued with healing light,
chasing memories,
cobwebs banished.
'Tis a gift to come down
where we ought to be.
Splashes of paint,
surreal clouds dancing
in a purple sky
backdrop for sagging barn
and leafless tree.
And when we find ourselves
in a place just right,
it will be in the valley
of love and delight.
Words in italics borrowed from Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett, Jr. written in 1848.
Today's challenge was to take a favorite poem and change the title and rewrite the poem. It was not required to stay with the same form though I think I managed to do that.
Growing up Daddy used to quote us 'The Song of Summer' by Paul Lawrence Dunbar. The piece got lodged so firmly in my head that as an adult I set the words to music. Here then is a new poem set to the same tune.
Spring of Hope
Oh here's da season truly blessed,
fickle weather changin'.
Violets flower in the grass,
dandelions seedin'.
White clouds scuddin' through the sky,
raindrops fall like diamonds.
Got my brollie in my hand,
watchin' out for crosswinds.
Open colored Easter eggs,
devil them with mayo.
Pack a picnic hamper full,
hit the forest tail-o.
Climb the mountain trail to see
wildflowers bloomin';
brilliant colors greet the eyes,
woodland full of groomin'.
Robin's ear cocked to the grass
list'nen for an earth worm.
Starling quarrel with a finch
try'n' to steal the feeder.
Move off now winter, spring has come,
weather's getting warmer.
Bar's emerged from winter den,
tiny cubs beside her.
Today was a double challenge, to write a love poem and to to write an anti-love poem. I'm not sure I succeeded but here is my attempt.
Love
Love is a many splintered thing;
chocolates and roses,
midnight serenades,
tears etching rivulets.
'Tis better to have loved and lost;
fools platitudes,
empty words
comfortless comfort.
Love is the color of a morning sunrise;
wisteria memories,
fanciful dreams,
broken hearts.
Love, the fool's errand,
the dreamer's fantasy,
the jester's painted tear,
the cruel impossibility.
Because I tend to get behind sometimes in reading my emails I just discovered a Poem A Day challenge for April which is something like National Poetry Month. OK, I can research this more later when I have more time and more active brain cells.
So back to the Writer's Digest Poem a Day challenge. Today's prompt is to write a poem about a hobby. Your's or someone else'. So here goes.
My Hobbies
I've always been one
to change hobbies
like some women change husbands.
There is the discovery stage,
excitement bubbling up
as the enticing new activity
catches my eye.
Perhaps a new craft
or some interesting concept,
the latest fad activity;
like my dear friend meeting
a new man at a party.
Next there is the pursuit.
I buy all the paraphernalia,
read books,
perhaps even find someone
to teach me the finer points.
How am I different from my dear friend
finding reasons to be in the same places
as her new interest?
Is courtship too archaic a word
to describe the hours I spend
perfecting my abilities
whether by reading everything I can find
or perhaps learning new stitches
or searching out better plant varieties.
I immerse myself in my new hobby,
too absorbed to spend time listening
to my dear friend go on and on
about last night's date
and the dress she just bought
to wear the first time she meets his family.
Eventually I reach mastery.
For different hobbies this may mean different things.
Perhaps I can play a violin concerto
without my listeners reaching for earplugs,
or maybe my rose bushes are covered
with perfect unspotted leaves and
glorious flowers.
Maybe my cedar chest is finally full
of beautifully embroidered baby blankets.
I attend my dear friend's wedding,
making all the right comments.
But then, a new hobby catches my eye.
I wander from the old,
reaching...
