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.
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
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.
Stars cloud his face, hidden overhead amid mountains that glow with the bend and change of sorrow. The soul seeks false love, true beauty, and grace of moments deep in shadow. Soft eyes dream of looks read slowly and taken by fire, nodding and grey with sleep, at once old and full.
Taking a cue from my September writing challenge success – and Adele Kenny’s Tip #4 – I may not post every day this month, but I will definitely draft a poem every day. Some drafts simply aren’t ready for public viewing. 😉
Today is Earth Day. I am thankful for the astounding planet-wide system that sustains us, but feel I should be wearing sackcloth and ashes as a sign of grief and repentance for the terrible damage we inflict upon it daily.
Covid-19 is Us
A virus moves about the Earth at will
whatever other living organism
it comes across
without respect or regard
for whom or whatever
may be affected
Sooner or later this planet
will shake us all off
like a bad cold