Salty like hot dogs (and tears). Sweet like marmalade (and life).
While walking on the village streets
Showing a friend the sights and eats
I was struck once more
At my very core
For this shore
My heart beats
In response to this week’s W3 prompt: Write a poem in any style about a place that evokes emotion (a place where you find poetry) I wanted to somehow address the rootedness I feel toward where I live.
This is home. This is home. This is home.
Trying another Welsh form: Clogyrnach
You wish to wed my daughter, lad?
You’re not the first to ask!
I challenge you to prove your worth
By performing one small task —
’Tis straightforward but quite hard
(She’s my most precious bairn)
To win her you must bring to me
The red bird of Raigmore Cairn
The wee red bird, with magic song,
And feathers ruby red
Elusive as the unicorn
And more powerful, it’s said.
So I set off on this my quest
To far-off Raigmore Cairn
I battled dragons, dodged wizard’s spells,
My true love’s hand to earn
I rescued maidens trapped in towers
Hunted mighty stags
And on my journey shared my wealth
With beggars dressed in rags.
At Raigmore Cairn, I searched and searched
But could not find the bird
My spirit low, I knelt and wept
When suddenly I heard
The sweetest song that filled my soul
’twas Raigmore Cairn’s wee bird
By now, you’re getting bored, I’m sure
With this drivel-twaddle-tale
Let me skip up to the point
At which I finally fail
I caught the bird, I rode back home
Fought dragons along the way
Rescued maidens, hunted stags
Blah-blah blah-blah blay
My true love’s castle rose into view
The red bird sang a hymn!
Until I saw the water there —
Alas! I cannot swim!
There are many things that I would do
To win my true love’s hand
But there’s just one contingency
I must stay dry on land!
Actually, this is a close up a mosaic mural I saw in Virginia.
Do I really need to tell you that there is no wee red bird of Raigmore Cairn? I mean, there really is a place called Raigmore Cairn. Here’s a pic:
But I’ve never been there and know nothing about it.
All I could think when I saw that picture was about a knight who overcame all sorts of challenges on a quest but then couldn’t cross the final water obstacle.
Five, six, seven on a wire
Whether to fly or stay, sway
With the breeze, watching the hawk
Soar and stalk mice on the brae
New word I learned this week: ekphrasis. It means “a literary description of or commentary on a visual work of art.”
The W3 prompt for this week was to write 1) an ekphrastic poem of no more than 15 lines inspired by the photo above, and 2) include the word “wire”.
I chose to have another go at the Awdl Gywydd form, a Welsh form with internal rhymes.
Then I tried to take my own photo of birds on a wire. Some days I see so many. Today, I spotted a lone red-winged blackbird.
My memory’s Rolodex spilled on the floor;
Once neatly categorized, now no more,
Like that drawer full of photographs dumped in the bin.
I’m so glad you rescued it. Now where to begin?
Did we live in this green house before the old farm?
Oh! There’s Grandma’s quilt — the one that was warm!
Remember this outfit? Remember that day
When you took Johnnie fishing and they all got away?
Look! Uncle Charlie! Where does he live now?
He’s been gone five years?! I’d forgotten somehow.
What about his fancy red car in this shot?
Of course I remember! You think I forgot?!
But who is this tall man holding a lad?
No! That’s NOT my son. You are quite mad.
My son’s in the backyard building a fort
Or playing soccer — he does love that sport
Oh, please help me sort these. I can’t do it alone.
Most of these faces are people we’ve known.
My memory’s slipping. Okay — it’s a mess!
But look at this photo! Remember that dress?
This is in response to Sadje’s “What Do You See” prompt. #Whatdoyousee
She posted the photo above, and this was the poem that grew out of it.
I looked out and saw a fawn
On the lawn fleeing the road
Toothpick legs receiving weight
Then airborne! Smol greatness flowed
This is a Welsh poetic form: Awdl Gywydd. I liked it because it called for internal rhymes — but, good golly, it was hard! I have to say that I’m not happy with the poem, but I tried.
For the We’ave (W3) challenge, we were to “Write about the first wild creature that you see which inspires you on the day you write your poem.” #30DaysWild
Yesterday, I set out to watch for a wild creature. Almost daily, I see deer on my way to work — but, of course, this was not one of those days. It was rainy-ish, so everyone was staying in, I guess — even the squirrels!
After work, as usual, I fell asleep in the chair in the living room. The trials and tribulations of being old, you know. Suddenly, I was awakened by my daughter in the neighboring chair crying out, “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
I jumped up to see what she was looking at and barely caught a glimpse of a tiny fawn racing across the lawn. Where its mama was, I have no idea.
But I can still see those spindly little legs stretching forward, catching the body weight, and then stretching out again as the rear legs caught up. In the midst of each cycle, that little body was airborne.
Sidenote on the word “smol” — one of my kids uses this, and I thought it was just a misspelling. It turns out that it’s a word — it is internet slang for cutesy smallness, like puppies and kittens and, for my sake, fawns.
Okay — here’s the challenge I’m trying today. It’s called “What Do You See?” The question is, does this picture inspire you to write something. I wrote a poem.
Yo, buddy, can you give me a lift?
It seems the whole world’s gone adrift
Rusted cars kinda wrecked off the road
I’m worried this whole place will explode
So, buddy, shoot that ray thing o’er here
You know, just make me – *POOF* – disappear
I’m game for wherever you’re going
Half the fun is the really not knowing
Come fly with me!
(a leery look)
Come fly with me!
(nose in book)
Come fly with me!
(a heavy sigh)
We’ll go up high
And see the town from the sky!
I’m dubious.
I’ll keep you safe,
I’m dubious.
My darling waif.
I’m dubious.
Come now! Make haste!
Your hope is quite displaced.
My feet on earth are firmly based.
We’re going up!
I’m not a bird!
We’re going up!
This is absurd!
We’re going up!
Cannot look down.
Oh! Look around!
You’ll see our lovely little town.
Oh me! Oh my!
Look at the trees!
Oh me! Oh my!
Feel that breeze!
Oh me! Oh my!
It’s charming, yes?
And you would never guess!
I was blinded by my stress.
This is in response to this week’s W3 prompt — a choice of two Marc Chagall paintings for inspiration. Initially I was going to use the other painting — The Big Wheel — and try to write something about my trip to Paris in 2017, but I kept going back to the other painting, Over the Town, which I ultimately used.
I’ve never written a poem in two voices before. I wanted to tell a story. This is what came out.
Ah, world —
Are you quite safe
Or not? I know where to
Find sanctuary — It is deep
Inside
Syllable count by line: 2-4-6-8-2
Dive into coolness
Catch, pull, release, recover
Stroke, flutter kick, stroke
Exhale into the water
Turn my head to catch a breath
The W3 prompt for this week is:
The more I read about haikus and tankas, the more I realize that something is lost in translation. A tanka is more than 5-7-5-7-7 syllable counts. It’s actually not syllable counts, it’s kana.
What’s a kana, you ask? I’m not 100% sure because it’s something in Japanese. And Japanese “uses a combination of logographic kanji, which are adopted Chinese characters, and syllabic kana.” (according to Wikipedia) English is phonetic. These two language systems aren’t the same. How can we adapt something like poetry from system to the other. I don’t know.
But I know how I relax. A pool is my happy place and swimming laps helps me unwind.
So here’s my tanka-ish whatever.
Underneath the sparkles and glitter —
No — lose that shiny excess litter —
I see strength — such strength that must be chained
Chained, crown around its neck, constrained,
Or is it? No, no — not a quitter–
Rugged, royal, powerful, proud,
Not subdued. No knee is bowed.
Unicorn was one of the prompt words for Tanka Tuesday. The challenge was to write an acrostic poem.
Honestly, I looked at the list of words and none of them struck me. I’m not a sparkly, glittery sort of person — especially in this chapter of my life. But, man oh man oh man, do I love that Scotland has the unicorn as its national animal. Fiercely independent and untamable, he is the heart of Scotland.
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 