Family gathering
love, laughter, reminiscing.
Like the inevitability of spring,
our connections bloom again.
Written off-prompt, for NaPoWriMo. It’s National Poetry Writing and the challenge is to write a poem every day in April.
Written today, on the occasion of a family gathering this weekend in Chicago, to celebrate the lives of Joanne and Ed Schnackenbeck.
She prefers
the zone of morning twilight.
Eyes sensitive to cruelty
ears offended by malice,
she avoids humans.
Shoreline creatures know her well.
Gulls flock to her side.
Cormorants swim nearby.
Black and sleek
they duck beneath waves,
pop up farther down shore.
Her dune shack stands alone
away from prying eyes,
her choice since long ago.
She collects sea glass,
gems given up by the sea.
Handmade dream catchers
flutter in the breeze.
High tides, low tides,
her only sense of time.
Solitude gleaned at ocean’s shore,
the gift she treasures daily.
Written for day 4, NaPoWriMo. April is National Poetry Writing Month. The challenge is to write a poem every day in the month of April.
The prompt for today is to “write a poem in which you take your title or some language/ideas from The Strangest Things in the World.” I’ve chosen the line “the zone of morning twilight” which appears in the Introduction of the book. Photo was taken a number of years ago: a dune shack on Cape Cod’s National Seashore.
Her iridescent spirit carries her through the golden dust swirls of the Orion nebula. Fourteen hundred light years away from earth, she awaits the right moment. She is the Unique One. A star whose heart pulses in time with the ebb and flow of ocean tides. She is composed of compassion and love. Once a nova who flashed too close to the moon, she witnessed the inhumanity of humanity. She must find her way through constellations and galaxies, to find one human creature she can claim. And in that claiming will come illumination. A flame. Kindling for a paradigm shift. The only hope for earth to survive.
Photo image from the telescope of John McKaveney: The Orion Nebula.
Written in response to NaPoWriMo, prompt for day three: to write a surreal prose poem.
lillian the home poet 