This was Thursday’s prompt from the 30/30 Writing Challenge. I thought it was kind of awkward, but the discomfort led me to play with it a bit more than I might have done with something more straightforward. Hey, it’s practice; it’s all good.
the world is anywhere
but out, a roundness looping
back on itself like a snake
swallowing its own tail
or that nifty paper trick
from grade school wherein
a single twist is all you need
to model infinity
It’s still National Poetry Month! Above is yesterday’s prompt from WordXWord’s 30/30 Poetry Challenge (http://3030poetry.com/). Below is yesterday’s poem.
The Dawn Walkers
We follow the terminator’s endless
sweep, throw long shadow
legs over mountains, span plains, leap whole
valleys, stride through forests. We skim
oceans, dive from shore to shore, not quite touching
the surface, ours the flight of night and day, ever
tumbling as the round world rolls.
April is National Poetry Month, and I signed up again to receive daily e-mail prompts through WordXWord’s 30/30 Poetry Challenge (http://3030poetry.com/). This is what I did with yesterday’s prompt.
I had thought to leave the child
to play in the garden, safely
fenced around and gated, but the child
had other ideas, found an old spoon
and tunneled down through the loose
soil of the carrot bed, all the way
Others may gripe
about the late spring
snow shower, but I smile
because the flowers
are not fooled.
(This post is for my British beekeeping blogging buddy, Emily Heath, of Adventuresinbeeland. Sorry I have no cake to share! )
After three warm days here in the Bluegrass, the snow has mostly melted, except for those big piles in parking lots. I had forgotten that the first bulbs to bloom in my gardens are not the crocuses:
but the Iris reticula.
I don’t usually notice them until the yellow ones open, which might be today, given the forecast.
They’ve even beat the hellebores to the punch!
Though we’re supposed to have a fourth day of sun and warm (temperatures in the 70s F), tomorrow night is supposed to get down in the teens. I just hope the magnolias don’t jump the gun and get zapped when the temperatures drop.
No bee activity to report in my yard yet, though I have seen some flies on a window screen. Maybe I’ll take a walk in the Arboretum today and see what’s blooming and if any bees are active there.
Addendum, later that afternoon: I was right about the yellow iris!
This prompt was from last week’s Poetry Wednesday at The Write Prompts:
Your topic is: between the sheets.
Your form is: three stanzas of varying lengths. The first stanza is what happens before, the second is what happens during, and the last stanza is what comes after.
As usual, I didn’t follow the form. The topic took me in a different direction than I expected, and I’m not sure I pulled it off. Please let me know what you think the poem is about — your feedback will be very helpful!
between the sheets
there is nothing
The good news is that I’ve been writing again after my lengthy (or so it feels) and unplanned hiatus. The bad news is that there has been little worth sharing; I don’t seem to bounce back very quickly in any area of my life these days. I tender the following as proof.
a cradle moon hangs low
in the west, shallow horns draped
soft with mist — night’s own child
sleeps there, breath like the slow
churring of cold crickets