I remind myself,
Unclench your hands
Hold them open

I remind myself,
Take a breath,
Don’t hold it

This week, the W³ prompt is to go on an introspective free verse journey. To do that, Allpoetry suggests starting with an image. I started with an image of open hands.

As you can see it was a struggle.

I wanted to write about how when you hold things too tightly, they cut into your hands and cause pain and injury.

I wanted to write something about that time my uncle grabbed onto an electric fence to show us it was safe, and like gullible little nieces and nephews, we grabbed on, too. And it wasn’t (safe) and we knew it before we did it but we were so gullible and trusting which is a kind of open hand even though it’s a closed hand on a wire.

I wanted to write about that sensation that I still feel of a dragonfly in my hand that flew away.

I wanted to write that cheesy sentiment that flourished in the 70s right along with the yellow smiley face and peace signs — it said something like, “If you love someone, let them go. If they return, they’re yours. If they don’t, they never were.” I was in high school in the 70s — first loves and all that — but the more I think about it, I don’t think it’s true. I think in some situations, like children leaving home and finding their way in the world, they don’t come back, and that’s because you’ve done your job well. I have a daughter in London right now. She has fallen in love with a city that’s far from home and I couldn’t be happier for her. I hold her with open hands.

So I open my hands to the people in my life.

And I’ll breathe through the stresses in my life.

But I won’t write a very good introspective poem.

Lesley Scoble challenged us to write an Ekphrastic Poem based on a piece of music from Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde. Challenge is very much the operative word here.

I ended up with a concrete poem –a poem makes active use of the arrangement of the words to create a  visual art object — that depicts a crescendo. Life is just one big crescendo and descrescendo.

Plants weren’t watered while I was gone
My son forgot
The geraniums were wilted
So jilted, fraught

A good watering – life appears
Or reappears
I should say – its posture improves –
Life moves, cheers

Yes, cheers my heart. All is not lost
Tiny buds burst
Within days — I am delighted
A righted thirst

The W³ prompt this week: Write a poem of three stanzas inspired by the phrase ‘A Wilted Flower’ —Rhyming: Optional

The story in the poem is true. I didn’t know I needed to tell my son to water the plants. Geraniums are so resilient. I wish I could say the same of some of my other plants.

I chose another unpronounceable Irish form: the decnad cummaisc, a form that employs quatrains with both end and internal rhymes. Here are the guidelines:

• Four-line stanzas.
• Eight syllables in the first and third lines.
• Four syllables in the second and fourth lines, which both end rhyme.
• The final word of line three rhymes with the middle of line four.

I have just
One wild life —
So should I
Avoid strife?

When roads di-
Verge, should I
Choose safe? or,
Wonder why

I paused at
All — and plunge
Headlong in
A great lunge

Of faith. I
Think I’d like
To rise, go,
Walk, swim, bike

Encounter
Life in all
Its pain and
Joy. Enthrall

In being
Alive! Yes!
I needn’t
Second-guess

Brains in head
Feet in shoes
This must be
Life I choose

Tiny nods to a few poets who inspire me.

I was beyond honored to have been chosen as Poet of the Week by Kerfe who blogs at MethodTwoMadness for The Skeptic’s Kadish W³ prompt.

What does that even mean?

1. She liked my poem “A Dance for the Lonely“
2. I had to come up with the next prompt (I chose an unpronounceable Irish form – Cethramtu rannaigechta moire – which requires 4 line stanzas with 2nd and 4th lines rhyming, and strict 3 syllable lines)
3. I have to choose the next Poet of the Week

Well, I’m traveling this week, so I chose a theme of travel.

Easy, right?

Wrong!

I’ve scrapped so many poems this week! The pressure is on! Between walks in beautiful British Columbia, I’ve tried to write and the struggle is real.

But I started a Lenten devotional on Ash Wednesday based on the poems of Mary Oliver so I tried to let her inspire me a little.

He placed his right hand just back of her waist
She placed her left hand on his shoulder
They danced with hands clasped in a stiff, awkward way
Space between them? Well, it was well-spaced.
That space closed midst the dance, he leaned in and told her,
“Thank you for dancing. My wife died last year.
Today is quite hard, our anniversary day.”
Adding a hug, “Thank you for being here.”

For this challenge, it also needed to be inspired by a dance or a song about dancing. The song below was my inspiration. It always gives me that ache-y feeling.

They are just boys; do they understand
This greater good they’re fighting for, the issues here at hand?
What thing that draws them to this fight?
Is it some deep deep sense of right?
Or, did someone paint a picture that was golden-tinged and grand?

Ah, to fill the lists — recruitment, drafts, all planned
Each regiment, platoon, division must be manned
Focus on the good they’ll do; keep their prospect bright
They are just boys.

Send them off with pageantry — a drum and bugle band!
Remind them that they’re going to a far-off glorious land!
And never say a single word that might evoke some fright –
Pump them full of pride! Ah, ’tis such a glorious sight
To watch them while they board the ship and leave their motherland –
They are just boys.

The W³ Challenge this week was to write a rondeau on the topic of Freedom. This is less about freedom and more about war. Does it bother anyone else that here is the United States we fill our military with kids; they can fight for us but we don’t allow them to legally drink a beer!