NaPoMo 2022, Day 19

I’ve not been writing as much as I’d hoped, but I have been reading and listening to poetry, and writing when I can. This is a derangement of a poem by Wordsworth, “On the Projected Kendal and Windermere Railway.”

Against the wrong protest, constantly voice
your strong torrents: winding, speaking, passing
dead hearts, if they be human. And of nature, romance
the beautiful peace and plead for rapture’s glance,
the traveler given pause at the forest’s head.
Seen in bright threat, baffled and thrown, random
fields admit the pattern, are lured by false utility
and scorn. Who bemoans the change, ruthless
and musty, endured by this blighted parish?
Blow hope to flowers, early and pure, kept busy
in the world of youth, sown in retirement.
Schemes assault the rash, secure in the ground
of English, naked then, railed away:
it is merely the wind, kindled on the project.

‘April Queen’ daffodil, a gift from my daughter

Finding

Articles, interviews, etc. often turn into poems as I read. This isn’t a found poem in the proper sense, as I’ve modified the original text, but I did find it, in my own way.

The language of silence
(after Kate Gale)

we spend our nights
at the bottom of a well
lit by our own imaginations

we are sailing on a canoe
in the dark over the moon
to find the island of forgiveness

every poem is a prayer
to the universe
for not being perfect

https://trishhopkinson.com/2022/02/13/the-possibilities-of-medusa-the-loneliest-girl-guest-blog-post-kate-gale/

Tete-a-tete daffodils from the yard

Poem for the first week of March 2022

In like a lion
(after Jeannine Hall Gailey)

This week is so strange: crocus open
beneath the ancient cherry tree as Russian bombs
fall on the Mother of Cities; mask mandates drop
and my head throbs with the whiplash
weather. I feel I should be tough, resilient
as the flowers, but my body betrays
me with fevers, dark circles, a nagging cough,
uneasy dreams – it knows things
are really not okay, no matter what
meditation apps, herbal teas, or vitamins
I apply to this uncomfortable spring.

I read this blog post by Jeannine Hall Gailey a couple days ago, and images and thoughts from my own week coalesced around her words. The poem practically wrote itself.

Poems in Stick Figure Poetry, Jaden

The new year began on an exciting note with the Winter 2022 issue of Stick Figure Poetry, which contains my poem “Seattle Snow Storm.” I want to give a shout-out to Jeannine Hall Gailey, whose blog post from a couple years ago inspired the poem. Thank you, Jeannine, and thank you, Stick Figure Poetry!

And earlier in 2021, right before the second half of the year ate my lunch, two other poems of mine were published in Issue #2 of Jaden Magazine, a gorgeous publication of Small Leaf Press in the UK. One of them (“Shuffle”) can be seen in the left-hand column on the second preview page. Thank you, Candice and the rest of the Small Leaf team!

Here’s wishing for us all a year of new opportunities, new ideas, and new perspectives.

LexPoMo 2021, Day 30

We’ve reached the end of Lexington Poetry Month, so here’s my wrap-up post. I wrote a poem all but two days, and double-posted several days when my schedule got a little nutty. All in all, I consider it a pretty successful poetry month.

You can access my LexPoMo poems here: https://lexpomo.com/poet/2021/2021-04-15-150103-jennifer-barricklow/

More than 2,700 poems have been posted at the time of this writing, and there are still a couple hours left! Check out the work of the 183 poets who took part this year at https://lexpomo.com/

Here’s the catfish featured in one of my later poems:

LexPoMo 2021, Day 20

We’ve reached the two-thirds mark in Lexington Poetry Month, so I thought I’d post again here on my own blog. I continue writing daily and posting at the LexPoMo site, and physical therapy has done wonders for my back.

You can still access my LexPoMo poems here: https://lexpomo.com/poet/2021/2021-04-15-150103-jennifer-barricklow/

Almost two thousand poems from two hundred eighty-three poets have been posted so far this year! https://lexpomo.com/

Here’s a cool orchid from an outdoor wedding we attended recently (our first post-pandemic event):

LexPoMo 2021, Day 10

We’ve reached the one-third mark in Lexington Poetry Month, so it’s about time I posted something here on my own blog. I’ve been writing daily and posting at the LexPoMo site, trying to meet an editing deadline, and nursing a nagging back injury that prevents me from sitting more than 20-60 minutes at a stretch (depending on the day).

You can access my LexPoMo poems here: https://lexpomo.com/poet/2021/2021-04-15-150103-jennifer-barricklow/

Two hundred eighty-two other poets are also posting, so I encourage you to read some of their work as well: https://lexpomo.com/

Finally, here is a photo of lovely Dutch irises that bloomed for the first time in my yard this year.

NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 30

Today is the last day of National Poetry Writing Month, but the writing will go on! My final poem for the month was inspired by the triolet form (though it’s not a triolet) and Maya Angelou’s “On the Pulse of Morning,” which was in the prompt from Adele Kenny’s poetry blog.

Praying for a dream

lift up your faces
you have a piercing need
which will not be moved
despite its wrenching pain

lift up your faces
but seek no haven
a bordered country
armed for slaughter

lift up your faces
for a new beginning
clad in peace
you have a piercing need

 

 

 

These irises were a gift from a neighbor. Thanks for reading!

 

NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 29

I’ve been writing but haven’t had time to post. The poem for today’s prompt from Adele Kenny’s poetry blog is “The Hedgehog” by Paul Muldoon. I love his line breaks and how the last stanza takes the reader somewhere much more serious than the rest of the poem portends.

Reasons to Write Poetry, No. 427

Sometimes you start writing
a poem as it comes to you
line by line, and it turns
suddenly in a direction
you didn’t expect.

 

 

Here is a gorgeous iris to thank you for reading.

 

 

NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 20

A line from Mary Oliver’s “Why I Wake Early” caught my ear, thanks to the prompt at Adele Kenny’s poetry blog: wake.

Not a morning person

(after M. Oliver)

even the miserable and the crotchety
must wake, however early or late,
to the sun’s relentless cheeriness
and radioactive optimism

 

 

Some tulips and grape hyacinths would like to thank you for reading.