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…
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.
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…
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…
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
Today I drew the prompt “Tanka,” which is a form poem. Five lines, measured by syllables: 5-7-5-7-7. What I love about form poems is I have to get present. I have to see what is right before me and play…
Today’s Prompt: The Bridge
I cross a bridge most everyday
On my way to most everywhere
Most days, mid bridge, I think about an escape plan if it collapsed
Would I have enough time to press the automatic…
My Flesh, My Heart
A little more than a gallon of blood
Churns under my skin
A bucket’s worth of ocean water
Sloshes in the pail
the six-year-old carries
across the white sand
full of Look Mom treasures
Well, yesterday’s poem was a bit of a rant. Let’s see what prompt I pull from my dad’s riding bowler today.
“Finally, the truth”
Hmmm…I think a prose poem is required.
I sat across from him. Charged and held. A…
Today is April 1, the start of National Poetry Month. In 1996, the Academy of American Poets proclaimed this month to celebrate the amazing wealth of emotion, humor and human experience found in poetry. Liz Garton Scanlon, a poet I…
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A Tree grows in Sedona
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