Salty like hot dogs (and tears). Sweet like marmalade (and life).
Doors open
Gentle rill
Steady Stream
Come — they will
Some yawning
Some to swim
Some to lift
In the gym
They come here
Start their day
In the most
Healthy way
Surge has passed
Quiet, still —
Then more come —
Gentle rill
Tanka Tuesday prompt: use synonyms of Flow and Wave
This describes my mornings at the front desk at the gym.
Dragonfly
In my hand
Delicate
Fragile and
Beautiful.
I took you
From the cat —
Still you flew.
I’m awed at
Your mettle.
You shimmer,
You settle,
And then you
Fly away —
The nothing
That you weigh
That fluttered
In my hand
Lingers — so
Fragile, grand
This is my second attempt at a Cethramtu Rannaigechta Moire, an Irish poetic form that requires 3 syllable lines in quatrains. The second and fourth lines rhyme.
It is in response to the W3 prompt this week from Sadje —
It’s funny — but I think what inspires me to write a poem is often something that I can’t put into words. Like holding a dragonfly.
I scoured my photographs for dragonflies. Here are two:
Let’s study some art, okay? Can you count the cows?
One, two, three, four — yes, that’s right! How about the swans?
One, two. Now I see some ducks. Can you count them, too?
I agree — they’re hard to count, but good job looking!
Tanka Tuesday prompt: Write an ekphrastic poem about this work of art by John Constable.
This is another Imayo: 4 12-syllable lines, broken 7-5. Literal, no symbolism or metaphor.
Children are SO literal, don’t you think?
Plus — we had a Slow Art Day talk back in April here with our seniors. We just looked at a painting in silence for 5-10 minutes before sharing what we saw. It was very literal. One lady said to me afterwards, “It’s the first time I’ve felt comfortable talking about art.” Too often people jump into the symbolism which is intimidating for those who are concrete thinkers.
You know this could be you, right? You, too, could
Be buffeted by winds and beat up
By trees and cars and birds and kids.
Life could happen to you in
Mean ways. Your student debt
Insurmountable
When medical
Expenses
Overtake
You.
Bank
Account
Empty. Cards
Maxed. Marriage bro-
Ken. A move. All the
Degrees in the world can’t
Float you high enough to miss
All the brutality of life.
That fatal heart attack was mercy.
Don’t judge. Don’t judge. Don’t judge. This could be you.
This was the prompt from Sadje’s WhatDoYouSee? post this week.
This week, in sorting through papers, I came across a box of unopened mail from my brother’s apartment when we cleaned it out after he died from a heart attack nine years ago. Most of it was bills and debt collections notices. Yes, depressing.
High on a telephone pole, your aerie was built
Stick by stick plucked from the ground and flown clumsily
To its new home with a view – where you can spot prey
A mouse or vole or rabbit, and scream from on high
I’ve been watching this nest while it is being built.
The Tanka Tuesday prompt was to write a Imayo about a bird. An imayo has four lines, each line 12 syllables, but divided into two sections: 7 syllables and then 5 syllables. This is my attempt.
In
Eighteen
Ninety-four
Great-grandmother
Pedersen arrived
In the United States
From Denmark with three dollars
And four children under the age
Of seven to join her husband who
Was a tailor working outside Boston
Her super-power: hospitality
Her home became a hub where Danish
Women gathered to drink coffee
And converse with each other
Without all the mental
Gymnastics that go
With translation
They relaxed
And smiled
[sigh]
My
Mother
Received that
Super-power
Hosting dinners and
Welcoming newcomers
And people in need to our
Home, church, and the community
She made it look so very easy
I thought I had missed that DNA
One day I was sitting at my desk when
A person peeked around the corner
“Can I talk to you?” he asked me
“Of course,” I said, so he came
In the office and told
Me a small story
A wee sliver
Of something
That was
large
I
sat and
I listened
To his words, awed
That he had chosen
Me to share his thoughts with
One day a woman sat down
With me and she started to cry
She told a wee sliver of her story
And I listened, gently holding her tale
They come. I listen. So many people
Some sad, some angry, some joyful, some tired
They all share different stories
“You should get paid for this,”
One man said to me
He doesn’t know
It is my
Super-
Pow’r
This is a double etheree times three. Does that make is a sextuple etheree?
An etheree is a syllabic poem — 10 lines with syllable counts 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. A double etheree has 10 more lines, counting back down 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
For the record, I work at a gym and when I’m in the office, I sell memberships.
And listen.
This is in response to this week’s W3 prompt: Write a poem of any style and any length on the topic of “Power.”
SPF
Thirty-three
Slathered on
Sun, sand, sea
Sound of surf
Hitting land
Whoosh shhh ssss
Sea sun sand
Sinking down
I can’t run
Grit twixt toes
Sand sea sun
Red as beet
Seaweed scent
Sandy feet
Day well spent
Tanka Tuesday prompt was to use this picture as inspiration and concentrate on imagery.
This is a Cethramtu Rannaigechta Moire, an Irish poetic form that requires 3 syllable lines in quatrains. The second and fourth lines rhyme.
Haven’t spent a day at the beach in a long, long time.
I was mad
He had done something
He oughtn’t
It caused work
Excess work for me, you know,
Now I have no time
Take a sec
Vacuum the carpet
Just sit and
Breathe, breathe, breathe
Go to his office to talk
Self-control takes time
When I’m rash —
Act impulsively —
Instead of
Taking time
Weakness rules instead of strength.
I need to be strong
This is in response to the W3 prompt this week:
- Write a Shadorma of a minimum of 2 stanzas on the topic of strength (physical, emotional, mental, ethical, or of character…)
- A shadorma is a poem comprised of six-line stanzas with a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five in the second, three in the third and fourth lines, seven in the fifth, and five in the sixth.
This is also in response to a situation at work, where I chose not to immediately lambast the person who had caused the problem. I literally vacuumed my office and then sat for a few minutes before tackling the issue that needed to be dealt with.
The lesson for me (and maybe for you, too) — when frustrated and angry, it’s important to take a little time.
Waiting isn’t weakness; it’s strength.
Procrastination, however, is a different story.
Just wondering —
Why can I see fireflies blinking but not capture them on my phone?
I took about 4 minutes of video on my phone the other night, but when I rewatched it, I couldn’t see the fireflies!
Here’s are two screenshots, fractions of a second apart. Can you spot the difference?
It is so infinitesimally small.
Miniscule.
But I saw it.
Again.
And again.
I watched them out my window, marveling at the ability of an insect manufacturing light.
It’s pretty amazing.
One of my “JW”s – – the many things I just wonder about.
I wrote a poem the night when I was watching fireflies.
I tried repeatedly
Admittedly defeatedly
To capture the light
Of a firefly’s blink
And though you can’t see them there
Their light exists, I swear!
The problem’s not the fireflies —
It’s my camera, I think!
This post is in response to Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: Acronyms.
The writing is not totally stream of consciousness. I wrote the poem several nights ago.
But I really do wonder about a lot of things — in an SoC way.
Yoga class: “Take a deep breath in”
My lungs fill, inhaling slowly
The act of breathing is so holy
Inhale, exhale; there, time begins
Or does it stop? Air held within
Bronchial ducts, alveoli
Yoga class, restorative Yin
Lungs empty, exhaling slowly
Peace settles where tension has been
I engage mind-body wholly
On the floor, time passes slowly
Meditative haze, then again –
Yoga class: “Take a deep breath in”
My lungs fill, inhaling slowly
This is my attempt at this week’s W3 prompt:
Write a sonnet or any other 14-line poem about “The concept of time and how it affects our lives.”
Side note from me: I got the 14 line part right and I said something about time. Does that count?
This is also my attempt at a Rondel. Lines 1-2 were supposed to be repeated at 7-8 and again at 13-14. I took a few liberties at the 7-8 version. I figure that I’m fairly new at these forms and can cut myself a little slack.
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 