National Poetry Month: April 23, 2015

Prompt: Today, I challenge you to take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (regular playing cards, tarot cards, uno cards, cards from your “Cards Against Humanity” deck – whatever), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Now, begin free-writing based on the card you’ve chosen. Keep going without stopping for five minutes. Then take what you’ve written and make a poem from it. (Hat tip to Amy McDaniel for the idea!)

From Inner Child Cards: A Fairy-Tale Tarot

Little Red Cap

You with your long innocent hair

under that little red cap,

knitted by someone who loves you,

the tassel floating like flame behind.

Why have you paused on your way,

ignoring your mother’s warning?

I know the woods are tempting.

I could stop you if I wanted.

But maybe I’ll wait to see

if you take the wise path,

if you notice the birds

have to fallen silent

before that dark presence.

National Poetry Month: April 22, 2015

Prompt: Today is Earth Day, so I would like to challenge you to write a “pastoral” poem. Traditionally, pastoral poems involved various shepherdesses and shepherds talking about love and fields, but yours can really just be a poem that engages with nature. One great way of going about this is simply to take a look outside your window, or take a walk around a local park. What’s happening in the yard and the trees? What’s blooming and what’s taking flight?

Day 22:

Suburban Aviary

Bird poop on the back stoop means

the doves are back loving and laying,

so I look to find their twiggy nest

peeking from the eaves,

safe from the tabby cat

who uses our fence for her highway,

far from the raccoons who sleep

in the oak tree next door,

those raccoons who once visited us

while we sat outside eating sandwiches,

watching with their little flashlight eyes.

Now that I think about it

I haven’t heard much cooing

in the early morning lately.

Maybe this means the doves

are exhausted new parents.

All the birds are pretty quiet right now,

the juncos, sparrows and chickadees

must be building and nesting,

which makes the bluebird

I saw twice last week

an even more astonishing sight,

bright with rust collar and buff belly,

a true bluebird of happiness

because seeing him hop in the grass

that is exactly what I felt.

National Poetry Month: April 21, 2015

Our prompt for today (optional, as always) is an old favorite – the erasure! This involves taking a pre-existing text and blacking out or erasing words, while leaving the placement of the remaining words intact… Erasures can feel almost like a game – carving new poems out of old texts like carving statues from blocks of marble — and so they take some of the anxiety out of writing. They can also lead to surprising new ideas, as the words of the original text are given new contexts.

Day 21:

This erasure poetry is dedicated to my sister Lana who told me last weekend her favorite number is e.

National Poetry Month: April 20, 2015

Today, I challenge to write a poem that states the things you know. For example, “The sky is blue” or “Pizza is my favorite food” or “The world’s smallest squid is Parateuthis tunicata. Each line can be a separate statement, or you can run them together. The things you “know,” of course, might be facts, or they might be a little bit more like beliefs. Hopefully, this prompt will let your poem be grounded in specific facts, while also providing room for more abstract themes and ideas.

Day 20:

What I know

Like trees,

we should root ourselves

into the earth, snuggling deep,

but not forgetting to reach

our limbs high into the air,

stepping on tiptoe if need be,

but stretching up, up

to reach clouds water-laden,

then cradling them

with abundant love

so rain washes down upon us,

wetting our hair and skin,

nourishing our bodies,

filling us

until that clean fire

comes to burn

us away to ash.

National Poetry Month: April 19, 2015

My poetry aspirations couldn't compete with family obligations, so I've missed four days of poems.  However, I'm determined to finish out the month. Today, after being away helping Mom move into her new apartment,  I offer another haiku:

rosy tipped dogwoods

lilacs tulips irises

must be in Portland

National Poetry Month: April 14, 2015

For today's offering, another haiku:

winds rise high tonight

no rain only dry leaves that

rustle like fire

National Poetry Month: April 13, 2015

In keeping with the mysterious quality of the number 13, today I challenge you to write a riddle poem. This poem should describe something without ever naming it. Perhaps each line could be a different metaphor for the same object? Maybe the title of the poem can be the “answer” to the riddle. The result could be a bit like our Day One poems of negation, but the lines don’t need to be expressed in negatives.

Bedtime

Running from my capture machine

of paper cup and envelope,

she scuttled under the bed skirt.

Now she lies in wait for that first opportunity,

to scurry back up the white sail of sheet

flapping over my huge body.

Covered up to my chin, I dread she will pounce.

Both of us wrapped in our own fears.

I know she just wants somewhere

to light, to spin, to grow fat and contented.

She has made a bad choice, the wrong turn.

I’ve done it myself many times.

Trapped in a tomb of her own making,

dust-covered carpet and shadows,

she won’t come out.

Soon she’ll molder to dust herself.

I could try to find her, but know I won’t.