Tuesday’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt was to write a poem that dances around a secret.
Positions, Please
Shall we waltz? Shall we tango?
Do you prefer the minuet?
Choose merengue or fandango —
how familiar shall we get?
Samba, mambo, rhumba —
do you like a little heat?
Schottishe, cakewalk, polka —
just how nimble are your feet?
We could Charleston, we could foxtrot,
bossa nova until dawn.
Is it me, or does it seem hot?
— Need I go on?
Posted in Poetry
Tagged 30/30 Poetry Challenge, NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month
Tuesday’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt: a good day
How to Have a Good Day
dog sprawled on the floor,
snoring sonorously
in the sunshine; cat curled
on the chair, claws
extending and retracting
in time with her
personal two-cycle
engine; morning strong
black tea with milk
rolling over my tongue
in counterpoint
to crumbly shortbread
biscuit drizzled
with chocolate tahini
Posted in Poetry
Tagged 30/30 Poetry Challenge, NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month
…and then Sunday rolls around and I take the day off from technology. I read instead: this Sunday it was a new collection of Chinese science fiction from the library. While the 30/30 Facebook prompt (hunger lounge) was rolling around in my head and not getting any purchase, I read some lovely lines that just begged to be in a poem. So I obliged.
Beginner’s Mind
Every day, as the temple bell tolls five, I sweep
from the library to the stone steps to the temple gates
where the ancient pagoda tree grows, its gnarled
branches like the talons of a rampant beast.
The layered green branches of the cypress grove
separates us, like a firewall, from the noise
and dust of the secular world. Smog glistens
above the city like the piled layers of a sari.
I imagine passengers squeezed together
like canned sardines on the number 2 subway
train leaving the lamasery station. A bell tolls
on the hour, and startled birds take to the air.
Master Subhuti once struck Monkey three times
on the head with a ferule and then walked away
with hands held behind him. How am I to interpret
two strikes on the left shoulder and one on the right?
My journey through the dark woods is accompanied
only by the gentle susurration of pines.
(found poem from “Coming of the Light,” by Chen Quifan, pp. 387-413 in Broken Stars: Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction in Translation, edited and translated by Ken Liu
crab apple blossoms
Almost caught up with posting…Saturday’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt was “I admit”
At the Fiction Writers’ Meeting
Hello, my name is Bruce, and I write fiction.
(All: Hi, Bruce.)
I write really specific fiction, about mycologists.
(nods of encouragement)
Mycologists who go into outer space
to look for fungi on other planets.
(supportive silence)
And study it. And write papers. And present
those papers at intergalactic conferences.
(non-judgmental silence)
And who belong to a secret society dedicated
to establishing an interstellar mycorrhizosphere
and thereby conquering the universe.
(interrogatory silence)
Um, that’s all.
(All: Thanks, Bruce.)
Posted in Poetry
Tagged 30/30 Poetry Challenge, NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month
The 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt for Friday was “roadside attraction,” and I was reminded of several posts from Luanne Castle’s Writer’s Site. Much of the language in this poem is borrowed from her.
In Search of Superbloom
Because it rained so much this winter, the wildflowers have gone
crazy. The roadside is abloom with a brilliant palette
of wildflowers, but we’re buzzing by on the freeway so I can’t take any
good pictures. The golden California poppies (the state flower)
and yellow flowers (don’t know their name as I couldn’t get
close) are stunning, and there are purples and whites mixed in
some places. These photos are crap due to being taken through
a car window, but they are all I have and at least I get to see
it with my eyes. We passed a line of cars at Lake Elsinore, stopped
to snap shots and just enjoy the beauty.
pear blossoms from Kentucky
Posted in Poetry
Tagged 30/30 Poetry Challenge, Luanne Castle, NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month
I way overthought Thursday’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook group prompt: 10 things
Lists that Failed to Yield a Poem
board games found at a thrift store
plants blooming in the yard
products no longer available in stores
varieties of tea in the pantry
items from the bottom of a purse
Trivial Pursuit answers (and questions)
expired medications in the bathroom cabinet
unread books on the shelves
what I like about you
Ten is a larger number than it appears, and it is not
so easy to make a poem about ten things
as one would think.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged 30/30 Poetry Challenge, list poem, NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month
It has been a very busy week. I’ve made certain I had time to write, but posting did not always make the schedule.
30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt for Wednesday: a poem that asks and answers a question.
Recurring sadness
Today was clear and welcome warm
for early spring but tonight
temperatures will drop. My heart clenches
over the star magnolia, white fingers splayed
wide to the treacherous sun. Tomorrow
they will dangle limp and brown. Why
do magnolias always bloom too early?
My grandmother’s voice is soft
in memory: It’s not their fault
we invited them to live here.
This sprang from today’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook group prompt (up in the air) and a phone conversation with a friend.
Priorities on a breezy spring day
My friend’s pre-school grandson leaves
detailed lists of all the things he wants
for his birthday in voice messages
on her phone. Each recording begins
with him saying, “Beep!” because he knows
you leave your message after the beep
and he’s taking no chances. Today he gave
an exhaustive inventory of Pokemon
accessories, complete with color options
ranked by availability and preference, followed
by a coda request for a Charmander kite
that was so important it merited a separate
phone call and message all its own.
That’s right, folks: we’ve traveled around the sun once more to that orbital point when poetry is celebrated nationwide — nay, across the very globe itself! — thanks to the wonders of the internet.
Today’s poem came out of a mash-up of prompts from the April issue of Diane Lockward’s very excellent Poetry Newsletter (local color) and the 30/30 Poetry Facebook group (streets at dawn).
Unnatural Succession
Autumn Ridge, Indian Summer, Winter Haven
Deer Crossing, Pheasant Run, Doe Meadow
Crimson Creek, Briar Patch, Willow Spring
streets in this subdivision invoke the seasons
as well as long-fled wildlife and landscape
features erased by bulldozers and backhoes
Aristocrat, Bradford Pear, October Glory,
Autumn Blaze, Red Sunset, Honeylocust,
Shademaster, Black Gum, Wild Fire, Red Rage
sanctioned cultivars replace native locust,
ash, chokecherry, serviceberry, hornbeam,
black walnut, yellowwood, sycamore
daffodils, reticulated iris, crocus, hellebores,
snowdrops, and pansies decorate curated beds
where once bloodroot and bluebells ran riot
but all is not lost: squirrels, chipmunks, and rabbits
remain to be stalked by cats, chased by dogs,
and flattened by unflinching automobiles
This year I decided to take a more holistic approach to NaPoMo, because writing is only part of my work as a poet. On the days I haven’t drafted new poems, I’ve been revising existing poems, looking for places to send them, and READING lots and lots of amazing poetry from around the world.
Here are a couple I drafted from phrases in a post at the Natural Dreamwork blog. They are a hybrid of found poetry and erasure poetry.
Natural healing process
skin your knee, the body mobilizes
the wound closes, the bleeding stops, a scab forms
leukocytes engage and destroy
fibroblasts build new skin
eventually the scar may fade
***
Failed dream
it’s against the law to remove antlers
from a national park
the wounded elk might be easy to miss
buried in a narrative
dreams are not narratives
they are a movement of feelings
the experience of space, time, and feeling
aren’t really separable
an image appears and beckons
wants to be my mirror
that bloody wound is my medicine
to face it becomes a healing
story-making spins away
distances, fails to notice the image
making it about anything
but feelings
the medicine isn’t always delivered
Source material: http://thenaturaldream.com/dreams-are-not-narratives-they-are-a-movement-of-feelings/
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