As if struck by lightning or a slow moving deluge, watching life’s last curtain call aches like hell.
Grief envelops like low-lying overcast sky. Why is the air so thick? So heavy without you. How can I still feel your embrace? Death takes so much more than life.
That biblical allusion, the Valley of Death. More like a chasm with unending depth.
NAPOWRIMO Day 10. Prompt: Write your own meditation of grief. Try using Brock’s form (from his poem “Goodbye”) as the “container” for your poem: a few short stanzas, wtih a middle section in which a question is repeated with different answers given.
I believe this is us forever dear, painted image on a neighbor’s wall. We hold hands in permanence, street artist’s portrait of love. His rendition, always young. No furrowed brows from worries, no age spots upon our arms. He sees us somewhat oddly though, large heads upon small bodies. But we do lean in, faces touching, projecting forever togetherness. Feet dangle above his painted ground, hovering above reality’s sidewalk. He’s placed us in suspension here. . . and I can imagine, my love, this was us so many years ago. How did he know?
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I’m hosting today, and folks are invited to post one poem of their choosing, no required format, topic, or length. OR they may post to the optional prompt I provide which includes three photos of street art I saw in Valparaiso, Chile some years ago. The one above was one of my favorites.
AN INVITATION TO YOU:I’m also hosting our LIVE session (audio and video) on Saturday, April 11, from 10 to 11 AM EST. Please consider joining us! You may read aloud a poem of your choosing, or just come to sit in and listen! We are indeed a global group with folks from Australia, Trinidad Tobago, Kenya, the UK, Pakistan, Sweden, and across the US often in attendance. The more the merrier! If you’d like to join us, go to https://dversepoets.com on Saturday a few minutes before 10 AM EST, and click on the link provided there.
I stand tall and proud. Yellow petals round my face mirror my namesake. I sway in summer breezes, turning always to the sun.
NAPOWRIMO, Day 9.Prompt is to write a poem in the voice of an animal or plant. Photo taken some years ago in Provincetown, on the very tip of Cape Cod.
Tanka:a Japanese poetic form with 5 lines in the following syllabic pattern: 5-7-5-7-7. Some say it’s a Haiku that has more to say!
It was the best of times . . . USAID shut down caused global humanitarian crisis. It was the best of times . . . ICE agents wreak havoc, innocents shot and killed.
It was the worst of times . . . Cataract surgery reveals brighter world. It was the worst of times . . . Family reunion brings laughter and love. It was the worst of times . . . Sunshine always glows brightly behind the clouds.
NAPOWRIMO Day 7 Prompt: Write a poem using a simple phrase repeatedly, and then make statements that invert or contradict that phrase.
directions to self, and you, if you wish. Stop imbibing Trumpian news. Take only one small sip per day. Think revel instead of wallow. Revel in sunshine, a best seller book. Walk outside breathing in fresh air, plan for someone’s birthday surprise. Arrange day trips away from news. If you ruminate, Trump wins. Do your small part pf course. One political post per day. Donate to a cause. But do not allow him to fester in your brain, to loose fistulas of lies that chafe, clouding your eyes to the joys nearby. Take care of your mental health. That is of prime importance in these days of . . . well, I don’t know what they are of. But that’s the point. It’s our task to define them. To decide how we change them. How we live and love in them. And God knows, we must.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe! Today Dora asks us to write a poem using an imperative….a demand of sorts.
Photo from a spring walk last year along the Charles River. A habitual dog walker often takes a rest at this bench….always makes me smile. We need more smiles these days.
One, two, what can we do? Three, four, can’t bear any more. Five, six, need a fix. Seven, eight, it’s not too late. Jump ahead to twenty-five, that amendment’s power drive. Then go back to the standard rhyme, he exits out in rhythmic time. Nine, ten, a thankful amen.
NAPOWRIMO Day 7. Prompt for the day: Write a poem that can be a “song: something to clap, snap or jump around to.” I’ve changed the words here to the childhood rhyme, “One, two, buckle my shoe. Three, four, shut the door. etc”
If you don’t want to read a political statement in explanation of the poem above, stop reading here.
Today, the President of the United States is playing the “proverbial game of chicken” with an unstable and violent regime. “A whole civilization will die tonight” if Iran doesn’t open the Strait of Hormuz by 8 PM EST. Note: the Strait of Hormuz was open until the US and Israel bombed Iran. Listen to President Trump’s recent public appearances: IE standing beside the giant Easter Bunny at the annual Easter Egg Roll, talking about Iran, how great his military is; telling children they can sell the pictures he colors with them because he’s signing them and his autograph is worth a lot of money. But they couldn’t sell anything from President Biden because he had people follow him around with an autopen. Look at his Truth Social posts in the last few days: laced with expletives. The man is more than unhinged. He is seriously mentally ill. He is not competent or fit to be in the office of the Presidency.
It is time to evoke the 25th amendement and remove him from office. At the very least, his family should stage a serious intervention meeting with him; as should members of Congress. Handle it discreetly and quietly if they wish. If he won’t resign, invoke the 25th amendement. We can not allow this man to continue in this powerful position.
So she said to me . . . I did it! I’m here in New York City, finally in the Easter Parade. Cost a bundle for the flight. But I looked out the plane’s window and saw the Archangel Gabriel. A real added plus to the trip. Couldn’t afford a real Easter bonnet so I resurrected my Christmas wreath. Tied it under my chin with pink ribbons, made it look more spring-like. Everyone said I just glowed. Best part of all, was the tinsel. It framed my face in a sparkly fringe!
NAPOWRIMO day 6! Today’s prompt: try writing with a breezy conversational tone, while including at least one thing that could only happen in a dream.
Image from Bing Create. And no, I didn’t get a phone call like this yesterday and I don’t know a Mabel. But if she was real, I suspect she’d be a lot of fun.
. . . eggs! Hens lay them, people abscond with them. Shelled with white and yellow insides, eggcellent when fully cooked.
Who among you drinks raw eggs? Holiday eggnog is not for me. Bourbon or rum added to nog? Never enough for me to imbibe!
Runny yolks pool on your plate, drip from your fork, require slurping to consume. That is definitely not for me!
Give me on-the-dry-side scrambled, well done frittatas, firm omlettes, or a good solid hard boiled egg. What can I say?
I’ve always been a firm handshake kind of gal.
NAPOWRIMO day 5!
The prompt today, for National Poetry Writing Month, is “to write a poem in which you talk about disliking something – particulary something utterly innocuous, like clover. Be over the top! Be a bit silly and overdramatic.”
I thought it appropriate to write about eggs today since that silly Easter bunny has presumably been hopping around leaving Easter eggs for so many folks.
Mother Nature’s flirtatious ways. Lightning flashes, crocus buds, lilac blooms that scent the air. Dew droplets on pink rose petals, fall colors as she bares her leaves. A silent caress of soft falling snow.
Most audacious of her alluring ways? Her cunningly sly, seductive wink. Unlike a camera aperture’s click, more like a Texan gal’s slow drawl. Her alluring, magnetically titillating total eclipse of the sun.
NAPOWRIMO Day 4. April is National Poetry Writing Month!
Prompt for today: “Craft your own short poem that involves a weather phenomenon and some aspect of the season. Try using rhyme and keeping your lines of roughly even length.”Sorry folks: I don’t do rhyme. But I did write about a weather phenomenon: a total eclipse of the sun.
Photo of lilacs taken some years ago at Harvard University’s Arnold Arboretum on their annual Lilac Sunday.
Long-legged Lucy played with the boys, Barbies or baby dolls not her toys. Miniature soldiers marched in her room. Games with a ball, she really bloomed.
Grown up Lucy? A soccer star. Local legend, legs are her fame. Precision, passing and footwork her game. Pele’s bicycle kicks win acclaim.
Off season? You’d never guess. Third from the left in that famous line, a seasoned Rockette her kicks still shine.
NAPOWRIMO Day 3. April is National Poetrey Writing Month.
Prompt: “Write a poem in which a profession or vocation is described differently than it typically is considered to be.”
Confession: as a young girl, I always wanted to be a Rockette!
lillian the home poet 