ART

Today's prompt: write a minimalist poem.  It even inspired me to paint these two pieces. This month of poetry writing and my Poetry, Prose and Pie event on Saturday have certainly fed my soul this April.  I am so grateful to have participated.

A Valentine from Grand

You sent me a Valentine, Grand.

I loved it so much!

How could I not,

Seeing as it had 

BIG FOOT

Singing and dancing!

I took it to school—

How could I keep

Something so wonderful

To myself?

Oh, my sadness,

When Walter tore it up!

Mommy and Daddy

Told me not to take it.

“But she’s four years old,

And she knows more than we do,”

Daddy said.

I don’t really know more than they do,

But don’t tell them, Grand.

Cinderella's Slipper

Clear plates of glass,

On each plate a pattern

Of colors and shapes,

Bright and curious,

Purely abstract

Yet intricately related.

As they are stacked

One by one,

Each sitting on the next,

A form emerges—

A delicate pair of

Red high heels.

I am as excited as

Cinderella finding her

Glass Slipper.
Enchanted,

I know these shoes are made for me.

They fit perfectly.

Red high heels—

Slippers made of glass

That strike me

With wonder.

Today's prompt:  write a poem reflecting on a piece of art.  I chose a piece I saw several times in the Hunter Museum in Chattanooga.  I say here that they fit me because this is one of the pieces that really connected with me and grew me in my love of art.  Such a small piece but such a big impact on me.

Jaguar

She swims with ease,

Against the nature of her feline family.

Her spotted coat works as well

In sun-dappled waters

As it does in jungle undergrowth.

Her prey outweighs her,

Outsizes her,

But is no match for

Her fierce claws

And steel-trap bite.

Her teeth crush the caymen’s skull,

And the battle is done.

She will eat for days on this kill.

Today's prompt: write a poem about an animal.  This was inspired by watching "Hostile Planet" on the National Geographical channel last night.

Northern Lights

I’m not always lively,

The sun must awaken me

With charges

Sent across the void

To tickle my electrons.

When they settle down again--         

A flash!

A photon is released,

And then you see my full glory.

The light streams through the atmosphere

Bending at my will to reveal

Striking colors that flow.

Sometimes I let my halo show

Other times I twirl the hem

Of my star-spangled robe,

And it flutters to and fro.

Most often I’ve a pale green hue,

But sometimes the rainbow emerges.

On occasion I can be so bold

As to fill the entire sky;

And then there are times when I am shy,

Barely peeking above the horizon.

At times I can be so full of joy

That I pulse frenetically,

So exuberant.

But my favorite nights are the times 

When the air is very still.

The waters yield a perfect reflection,

And I dance with myself

Into the night.

Today's prompt:  Write a poem from a different perspective.  You can find the video that inspired my descriptions here.

Sometimes I...

Sometimes I…

            Advocate ardently

                        Burp blatantly

                                    Chuckle cheerfully

            Dance dreadfully

                        Experiment eagerly

                                    Fall flatly

            Groan grimly

                        Hope half-heartedly

                                    Inquire ignorantly

                                    Joke joyously

                        Knock knowingly

            Loaf lazily

                        Mingle merrily

                                    Nibble nervously

            Opine obnoxiously

                        Preach piously

                                    Question quietly

            Roar raucously

                        Snore (not so) softly

                                    Tattle thoughtlessly

            Use unabashedly

                        Vacation vivaciously

                                    Wish wistfully

            Xerox extravagantly

                        Yearn youthfully

                                    Zoom zealously

I Am in the Kitchen

I am in the kitchen chopping carrots,

            And Cathy lies in a bed dying.

I picture her in her own kitchen flitting

            From oven

            To sink

            To refrigerator

Like a butterfly flitting among flowers in her garden.

She moves with such ease,

Cutting up apples and cheese,

Artfully arranging them on a clean white plate.

From the oven she pulls a peach pie,

One that she had baked when the peaches were fresh,

Put in the freezer until the right occasion arose,

And we are the felicitous recipients of her hospitality.

I am in the kitchen cutting up celery,

            And Cathy lies in a bed dying.

I see her smile as she lounges with us on her patio.

She is the consummate hostess—

            Always welcoming

            Always comfortable

            Always making time

She pets her beloved dog Coco and laughs at the stories we share

Of friendships past and present

Of times gone by but still held dear.

I am in the kitchen chopping onions,

            

            And Cathy lies in a bed dying.

The onions work on me, and stinging tears come.

But they are mixed with tears of sorrow for my sweet friend

Who I will miss so much.

Today's prompt: write about loss using concrete images.

Grand's House

Go to sleep, Madeline.

No more talking

Or wrestling around.

But we have to make a wish, Grand,

We have to whisper low.

I can’t tell you what I wish for

Or it won’t come true.

Do you want to hear my wish, Grand?

Do you want to know?

Sweet girl,

If you tell me

Then it won’t come true.

But if I don’t tell you, Grand,

Then how will you ever know

How much I love you?

Let me tell you so.

I love you, Grand.

I love your house.

I love the wolf on the floor.

I love the petting the fish,

And catching tadpoles.

I love it when you roar.

I love making slime

And flying my kite,

Tea parties

And spending the night.

I love everything about your house…

Even if it stinks.

 Today’s prompt:  write a poem that is a dramatic monologue or sort of a small play.  This poem was inspired by one of Madeline's visits.  My grandmother heart almost melted as she told me these things, and then we get to the end and she adds the "stinks" part.  Madeline never forgets things and one time when she came I had some trash that needed to go out.  Now I forever have a stinky house to her.  Oh, well.

Holy What?

I was a kid of six or eight

Sitting on a pew, trying not to squirm.

The church was decorated to the hilt

With white candles,

White orchids,

A white runner down the aisle.

The bride and groom stood holding hands.

The preacher started to speak,

The strangest words fell from his lips.

I covered my mouth

To stifle a laugh

When I heard the words

“Holy Macaroni.”

How does this work?

What does it mean?

How can macaroni join them?

Will cheese be involved?

Is this like Yankee Doodle’s?

And what does one do

To make this macaroni holy?

The questions just piled higher and higher.

It never made any sense.

No pasta appeared,

And I just sat there confused.

Today's prompt:  write a poem about words that sound alike, or can be misused or misheard.

Burning Bush

I saw a bush in the distance,

Burning, but not consumed.

How can this be?

Impossible,

A sight beyond belief.

Its leaves were green and supple,

Not seared, or edged with black.

Though smoke arose, 

No ashes fell,

No branches full afire.

So I drew near with wary eye

and curiosity,

To get a better vantage of

This strange oddity.

It filled me with such wonder,

Some fear of danger too.

But at its center I could sense

God’s presence,

Hear His voice.

And now I knew

All I could do

Was worship and obey.

Lord, let me be a burning bush

To others on the way.

Let the Holy Spirit be

The flame that’s plain to see.

Burning,

But not consumed,

A puzzle in this world,

A cause of awe and wonder

At what you can do through me.

Today's prompt:  write a poem about something spooky.  I spent the morning at the Chattanooga House of Prayer and one of the exercises had me studying a stained glass picture of the burning bush.  It occurred to me that if I actually saw a burning bush that would be pretty spooky.

Brickyard

Black and white checkerboard flags

Flap in the breeze,

Decorating every street

In the month of May.

The Brickyard is alive.

Race cars roar around the track.

We hear the long whine of the engines

As drivers whiz down the straightaway,

Throttling down for each curve of the oval.

Names like Foyt, Andretti and Unser

Were celebrated in our city,

Like war heroes returning from battle.

Every Memorial Day

The soundtrack for our picnic

Was the Indy 500 announcer

Calling the race.

Today's prompt:  write an origin story.

Downpour

It’s been a real

Gully washer

Of a winter.

The pond’s overflowed

A dozen times.

(Will the dam hold?)

River so far out of its banks

It made the news,

And made some messes

That are still a mess.

It’s been a real

Frog-stranglin’

Kind of winter.

Downpours that have

Wreaked havoc

In our little town.

But spring has sprung,

And things are being made new.

Life has won;

The frogs have sung it so.

Today's prompt: write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.

Clouds I've Seen

Gossamer feathers streaking the blue sky

Wispy snakey forms slinking across the valley

Dull puffs, silhouetted with silvery sunbeams

Clutching claws reaching through the atmosphere

Nebulous disembodied wings flying from west to east

Pink cotton-candy puffs lit by the setting sun

Fog marching down the mountainside,

            A line drawn, not to pass

Great misty boats sailing calm seas

Black wall rising from the horizon, threatening

Today's prompt:  write a poem that is a list.

Phoenix

An expert eye sees more than scraps,

More than firewood;

He sees the grain, so straight and true,

And saves it from burning.

Patiently he seasons the wood,

No warps or bows will do,

Time and heat are what it takes

To make the wood of use.

With steady hands he cuts the piece,

A perfect jig to follow;

Dovetails or splines join the sides

To make it strong and sturdy.

Not proud or shy, a perfect match,

Each corner square and true.

Finished to perfection, 

A coat of oil applied,

A work of art emerges,

A phoenix of a sort.

Today's prompt: think about the jargon of a particular job or profession, and see how you can incorporate it into a metaphor that governs or drives your poem.

The Stuffed Lion

You held your stuffed lion

Close to my face

And ROOAARRed.

When I fell over with feigned fear

Your face lit up with delight.

The attack was on

As you climbed all over my back

And let your lion “bite” me

Over and over again.

A fit of giggles from you

(to have a grown-up

join with abandon

into your imagined world).

Uncontrollable laughter from me

(to play with you

in such a way—

pure joy).

Today's prompt: to write a poem of gifts and joy.

This incident happened this week.  Writing this poem reminded my that one of the greatest gifts I have been given is to play with children through story and acting, to join them in pretending.  I have loved every minute of this.

What If...

Today's poem is inspired by this tea towel I bought last year.

If I could be more daring,

Bold and unafraid,

What things would I accomplish?

What things would I evade?

Would I wrestle an alligator?

Would I face a bear?

Would I hunt a tiger?

Would I enter its lair?

Would I climb a mountain?

Would I take a dive

From the highest cliff

To show I could survive?

Would I challenge a giant?

Would I face a foe?

Would I walk on water

Though the fierce winds blow?

Would I build a castle?

Would I chase a dream?

What would I imagine?

What would I scheme?

Would I love more fiercely?

Would I let it show?

What places would I visit?

Where would I go?

How would I spend a day?

What would I buy?

What would I give away?

How would I die?

Today’s prompt:  write a poem that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world. Focus not on what has happened, or what will happen, but on what might happen if the conditions are right.

The Best Advice I Ever Got

The Best Advice I Ever Got

The best advice I ever got,

From songs I’ve loved and learned by heart,

Helps me live the way I ought.

Climb every mountain, ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow till you find your dream.

The best advice I ever got.

Just keep swimmin’, just keep swimmin’,

You better get to livin’.

Helps me live the way I ought.

Let’s go fly a kite,

Up to the highest height.

The best advice I ever got.

The cover is not the book

So open it up and take a look.

Helps me live the way I ought.

But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger,

You’ll learn thing you never knew you never knew.

The best advice I ever got.

Be our guest, be our guest,

Get your worries off your chest.

Helps me live the way I ought.

I’ll walk down the lane, with a happy refrain,

Just singin’, singin’ in the rain.

The best advice I ever got.

Make believe you're brave and the trick will take you far. 

You may be as brave as you make believe you are.

Helps me live the way I ought.

Songs both old and new

Hold lines that get me through. 

The best advice I ever got

Helps me live the way I ought.

Today's prompt: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from an outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way. If you can use two elements, great – and if you can do all three, wow!

(I followed the villanelle form [sort of] and used lines from musicals that I have loved along the way.  I'm sure you can identify most of them.  I challenge you to identify all of them.)

Geese on the Pond

A pair of geese,

Mates for life,

Have nested on the bank of the pond.

Although people come near

And dogs and coyotes

Roam freely in these

Hills and woods,

They are not deterred.

They alternate sitting on the nest,

Each one taking a turn

To paddle on the glassy surface,

An ever-widening “v”

Following its wake.

The days that follow are too long.

The predators too hungry.

Before life can come to the full

The nest is breached.

The pair,

Unaffected by sorrow,

Rise together,

Flying off into the blue expanse

That seems endless.

Today's prompt was to write a sad poem.

A New Song

April is National Poetry Writing Month, and I have once again taken up the challenge of writing a poem a day for the entire month.  My first two efforts are not blog-worthy, but I'll post this one for day three.

Prompt:  Write a poem that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time.

A New Song

The record spins
And plays its tune,
Its melody etched in each groove,
The perfect performance every time.

There is some satisfaction in that perfection.
No need to change a thing...

Until a scratch
Impedes the progress
Of the needle,

And a word or note
Repeats
Repeats
Repeats

A New Song emerges
Alive
Varied
Improvised
No longer
Restrained or confined.

The beauty of the New Song
Steels my heart.