When I wrote the prompt ‘Her Smile’ on the index card, I wasn’t thinking of Mona Lisa. I was thinking of romance, of love, of that sweetness which connects us to the human heart. But perhaps that’s why we connect so deeply to Da Vinci’s painting. It is all of it. I decided to put it in a cinquain (2-4-6-8-2) because why not? And yes, you will have to allow me ‘smile’ as a one syllable word.
Follows you, us
Around the gallery
Sister, Friend or Something
yet to be discovered inside Your heart
Did not remember writing this prompt on the index card. Did not know where this poem was going.
THE HABIT OF BEING YOURSELF
At first, you can’t help yourself
Squall eat sleep twenty four seven
Until you smile.
What a game changer
Love praise chocolate
fall from heaven
You don’t even know what heaven is.
You know ‘more’
want more and more
than you really need
It’s kinda fun, though, the things,
the accumulation of evidence that you are, you are, you are
Until you know it
Until all you need
is a good meal and a bed
A smile, though,
Still a game changer.
Serendipity: pulling a prompt which says “Birthday Poem” on the day that someone was born and left us too soon.
You were born today
So many years ago
You lived all the way til now
And we celebrated you every year
As a miracle
As unique in all the world
Even when your unique was a pain in the ass.
Even when it was a terrifying death duel
That you lost
Even then it is still your birthday
This one day
One of the things that’s difficult about this poetry-prompt-promise I’ve made is pressing ‘publish’ on these slightly imagined images. I want to let them cook a little longer. I want to fuse what I’m trying to say with what’s on the page a little bit more. I can do it later, of course. But for right now, this is it. I pulled the prompt: ‘where I am from’ and travelled to spring in the home where I grew up.
WHERE I AM FROM
Fifteen, to be exact
A home edged by flowers
My mother planted
They made her happy she said.
Especially the tulips
That slept underground
Under snow every year
And bloomed like miracles she said
Every year I checked on all the peeking blooms
To make sure spring was coming
To make sure she would be happy.
First the lilies of the valley
Tucked in the shadows by the evergreens
I’d scrunch down close to these slight stems of tiny white bells
With a scent barely louder than
The dirt beneath them.
Then I’d run by the tulips and daffodils
Shouting and waving by the front door
Yoohoo, Yoohoo we’re here too
Around the side of the house where
Heavy pink rhododendrons loomed thick with bees.
Finally my prize
a whole hedge of purple lilacs
Planted on my tenth birthday
Because they smelled like
Perfume on the necks of gorgeous women
In swirling gowns
in the arms of adoring men
Like a promise
Like everything yet to come.
Hah. Another form poem. I swear it’s not planned. This one a cinquain with a syllabic line count of 2-4-6-8-2
Rain showers down
Eyelids blink open shut
Soft green blanket wraps around me
L2-Writing Right Now
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A Tree grows in Sedona
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