Friday, July 23, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Poem-a-day - April 27
Today's prompt: Write about hope or hopelessness
What do you do when there is no hope?
When there is no light, only a tunnel.
I imagine you take this breath
and then the next one. You eat breakfast,
read the mail, you cry. You curse the fate
that has landed in your lap - or you don't.
You reach out or you withdraw.
You learn something about what is beneath
The deep dark place no-one wants to explore,
ever. The bedrock below the soil.
You must find the deepest place
that will hold even hopelessness.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Poem-a-day - April 26
Today's Prompt: Write a poem about "more than 5 times"
Some poets claim
more than 50 rewrites
for a single poem.
I want to dare
to lay a beginning
onto a blank page.
Allow the poem
to unfold on its own.
Not to cling or try
to bend the thing
into a familiar shape.
Not to hoist the sails
to catch the usual
trade wind. But
to let the sails luff -
midstream. To face
into not knowing.
To make space
knowing I'll have
50 more chances
to get it right...
Poem-a-day - April 25
Saturday Night's Alright, alright, alright
--- Elton John
Saturday night's the night he likes.
He dudes himself up, polishes his shoes
and sets off to find his girl at the bar.
He wants only the finest, no compromise
in quality for him. The blonde blue-eyed
one stares at only him. The corseted one,
with breasts falling out of her white blouse.
She's just the one. She'll do indeed.
He strokes her sloping shoulders, licks
her green lips. He grabs her and prepares
to take her all the way... right then, right there.
Yep. His St. Pauli Girl always gives him
what he's lookin' for on a Saturday night.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Poem-a-day - April 24
when the earth turns
away from the sun
when the birds unruffle
their feathers, let their last song
float into purple air
when the to dos are checked off
and you can settle down
with a glass of chardonnay and a book
when the children are asleep
and the dishes gleam
in the rack on the sink
when the insistent sun
yields to the gentle moon
and nothing is required of you
when all that is possible
has been considered
and you can turn the calendar page.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Poem-a-day - April 23
It's exhausting when the world's woes
come into your bedroom at three A.M;
You neighbor who has too many health problems,
Your friend who's son has cancer,
the poor of the world meeting in Bolivia
to find a way to ask for justice.
Then there's your own backyard
filling with dandelions,
your hemorrhoids and hangnails.
How do you hold all this with intention,
with awareness and still not lose
the perfect square of glittering white moonlight
that has fallen on your bedspread?
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Poem-a-day - April 22
Spring (after poet Elizabeth Bohnhorst)
Open the grave!
Wake the great artist of spring.
Let her paint pastel blooms, let colors run.
Let the lakes melt their skins,
trees open their green fingers
and yellow spread through lawns.
Watch carefully as the earth
loosens its hold
on roots longing to grow.
You have this too--
this softening of your hardened heart;
Allow it to melt at least until the first frost returns.
Poem-A-Day - April 21
Today's prompt: Write about "according to..."
My Mother never did things
according to the recipe.
She freely substituted whatever
she had on hand.
A child of the depression,
putting a whole cup of butter
in any recipe
ran against her grain.
A daughter has to rebel somehow.
Accordingly, I myself like extravagance.
I'm more likely to double
the amount of butter in the recipe
buy the best cut of meat,
use real cream in my fair trade coffee.
I wonder what my daughter will do?
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Poem-a-day - April 20
Today's prompt: Write about "looking back"
My Rearview Mirror
I like my rearview mirror,
I keep wanting confirmation
that what is behind me
is still there.
It gives that receding
view of history.
You see only
the reflection of things.
But, there is always
"objects are closer
than they appear"
Everything is closer
than it appears;
the deadline we agreed to,
as well as the car
You can't trust
the reflection of the past.
is always an approximation.