Day 27 Late-Season Snow #NaPoWriMo

cocker spaniel playing in the newly fallen April snow
Late-season Snow Storm

Prompt: “Take one of your poems and, in three places, insert a parenthetical comment…” I used only this much of the prompt found at Cuyahoga County Public Library website. Only three more days to go!

late-spring storm
{by now, I shouldn’t feel surprise}
snow on puppy legs…face…tail
{how did he get snow plastered THERE?}
don’t sit in my lap!
{ah, well! there’s towels}

Copyright © 2019-04-27, by Lizl Bennefeld.LOGO FOR NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

Day 18: topics not discussed #NaNoWriMo

LOGO FOR NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

Very loosely based on the Day 18 prompt from the Cuyahoga County Public Library. I am not sure that I’ll go back to rework this after NaPoWriMo is over for this year. I do know that I do not write poetry in four-line stanzas.

 

‘topics not under discussion’

sometimes I turn around to see
as though from outside human space
the larger patterns…masked by lies

then my heart catches…forgets how to beat
and I find myself hoping that it won’t
remember…how to start itself again

in the longer run the gifts I wield
will make no lasting difference
all will die quietly…fade away in sleep

what I can achieve is to be present
in this moment, acknowledging each
thing that lives and care…until we’re dead

Copyright © 2019-04-18, by Lizl Bennefeld.

 

Day 16 – In Hiding: An Ode to Anonymity #NaPoWriMo

‘An Ode to Anonymity’

I live underwater, away from all
there’s a turn in the river
I’m shadowed by its banks

the river’s in my mind
my mind safely sheltered, here…
here I’ll remain to the end of all time

Copyright © 2019-04-16, by Lizl Bennefeld.

Form: kimo and kimo, reversed

Prompt from the Cuyahoga Library for Day 16.

Photo credit: See attachment page.

Day 15: Two Poems #NaPoWriMo

leaf and late-day shadow on concrete

To a dead leaf, lost on concrete

I found myself considering the sadness of leaves and seeds that fall where they can neither decompose nor have the opportunity to germinate and grow. And so, on a (serious) whimsy, I promised the residue on the garage floor that when I was finished with taking their photographs, there, I would gather up them all and return them to the outdoors, where they may decay, or sprout, and live again.

I cry for the leaves on the garage floor
thrown out in new plastic bags
not renewing the soil

Copyright © 2019-04-15, by Lizl Bennefeld.

 

LOGO FOR NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

Hey, tone it down, there!
Pitch-and-Toss ain’t meant to be
no blame shoutin’ match.

Copyright © 2019-04-15, by Lizl Bennefeld. Written for #RonovanWrites weekly haiku poetry writing  challenge prompt: Pitch&Tone.

“Pitch-and-Toss” is a game of chance.

Day 11: Drawn Towards Joy

This poem was posted also on my Quilted Poetry blog.

new, green leaves on a cotoneaster tree in our back yard
New Growth

 

drawn towards joy
changing of the seasons
gentle warmth
quiet melt of winter’s snow
springtime’s gift of sun and rain

Copyright © 2019-04-11, by Lizl Bennefeld.

As I write this poem, I am listening to an ongoing spring blizzard that has delivered over seven inches of snow, so far today. We expect another five to seven inches before the storm ends. The tulips and daffodils long since emerged from the warm, damp grown. I am trusting the new snow to protect them from the wind and icy rains still to come.

I have looked at photos from previous years, and April snows are not that unexpected. Still, it is strange to be confined to house and outbuildings by snow drifts, when at the beginning of the week, I was outside barefoot and without a jacket.

barefoot at the edge of the fading snowdrift in the back yard
Barefoot Weather, 2019-04-08

April’s Blow | #NaPoWriMo2019 / #GloPoWriMo2019

emerging garden fence
The Emerging Fence, 2019-04-03

March comes in as a lion and … April buries the road by which it leaves

January’s cold
is sharp but somehow peaceful
unlike April’s storms

like cyclones over water
Spring adds fury to its snow

Copyright © 2019-04-10, by Lizl Bennefeld.

NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

Please also visit my Quilted Poetry blog on WordPress.

Day 8 – Use the kimo poetic form

the remnants of a snowdrift in the front yard, bereathing its last
Melting Snowdrift (2019-04-08)

Write a kimo, an Israeli form that tends to capture a moment (like a photograph in words), using three unrhymed lines with syllable count 10, 7, 6. (Cuyahoga County Public Library)

ice crystals scattered in a shrinking patch
glistening in the sunlight…
exhaling their last breaths

Copyright © 2019-04-08, by Lizl Bennefeld.

My first poem for this Monday was written for the Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Prompt Challenge, and can be found on my Quilted Poetry blog: River’s Crest.

A Haiku and a Memorate #NaPoWriMo #NaGloPoWriMo

pinetree across the way, mid-March 2019
Tree in Winter

puppies by my feet
pine trees swayed by rising winds
and yet…stillness

Copyright © 2019-04-04, by Lizl Bennefeld.

Prompt: Write an Animal poem. (I think this prompt is yesterday’s.)

 

Mother’s Approval
a memorate

asleep, I saw her walk
toward me from the new workshop
she smiled and passed

waking, I recalled that she
had died before we built it

Copyright 2019-04-04, by Lizl Bennefeld.

 

 

Waiting for the silence

So many names, so many faces I no longer remember, voices muted by the overwhelming years. I threw away their letters. Burned their photographs. Drowned grief in nights of walking…days at the piano, my hands exhausted, my fingers worn. All is gone but for faded memories of having known.

no pretense… no dress rehearsal
letting go doesn’t get easier

familiar footsteps approach
pass by without a pause

Copyright© 2018-08-11, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.

 

No Regrets

the colors of springtime
the scent of autumn’s falling leaves
non, je ne regrette rien

© Elizabeth W. Bennefeld, 2018-05-31.

Written in response to Mara Eastern’s (maraeastern[dot]com) post on that date on the discontinuation of WP’s weekly Photo Challenge (among too many other things).

Day 26, Life-long learning | #NaPoWriMo2018

flower seed packets scattered on a desk
Next month’s flowers

nahaiwrimo:April 26 LEARN

Real life-long learning doesn’t have to be profound or deep or even long-lasting. Doing so keeps us young! While in Boston this last weekend, I learned that I love lobster rolls. I also learned that I love the warm welcoming people I met. Learning something new blesses us all in one way or another and perhaps only in hindsight. Onward!


a water pail
moist dirt between my toes
sunlight’s warmth
 
after a lingering winter
it’s time to plant flowers

Copyright © 2018-04-26, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.

Day 30, A Closing Poem | #NaPoWriMo2018

Today’s prompt, write a closing time poem.

I had thought there would be more feelings about…more active involvement in the act of my dying. Interaction with this new experience. Not simply waiting in the not-silence, listening to my breath in- and outing…all other sounds too far away. I slip into sleep. When I wake, I listen for the sound of breathing, check to see if it’s really mine. Somewhere along the line, it won’t be, anymore.

solitary room
sounds fade away, approach again…
listening for forever

Copyright © 2018-04-30, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.

 

Backyard Visitation, April 28 | #NaPoWriMo2018

sturdy metal fence surrounding a 50-sq-ft gstarden plot
Fenced-in Wildflower Garden

Cuyahoga Library prompt: Cleveland poet Russell Atkins describes a backyard that “has hold/ of the throats/ of trees.” Write a poem that personifies your backyard, or the backyard of someone you know, during a particular season of the year.

like an old grave site
the fenced-in garden bed lies
shadowed by bare limbs

last fall’s scattered stalks conceal
shoots of this year’s wildflowers

Copyright © 2018-04-28, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.

 

Day 22: As Far as the East Is | NaPoWriMo2018

For April 22, I selected this prompt from naprowrimo:

And now for our daily prompt (optional as always). I’ve found this one rather useful in trying to ‘surprise’ myself into writing something I wouldn’t have come up with otherwise. Today, I’d like you to take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens: …” But the phrase that immediately came to mind was “As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us” Psalm 103:12.

As Far As The East Is

the sun rolls along
west is ahead—east, behind
just a glance away

In bright sunlight, all shadows
are behind me as I face the sun.

Copyright © 2018-04-25, by Elizabeth Bennefeld. [Playing catch-up.]

 

Day 15 – If I were a garden | #NaPoWriMo2018

late-spring garden

Prompt-
Cayahoga library: Katerina Stoykova-Klemer has written, “Often I Wish I Were// a potato.// Eyes opened/ in all directions.” Begin a poem with “Often I wish I were” and complete the  stanza with…” and  see where that takes your poem.

“Wishes”

I sometimes wish I were a garden
filled with roots, berries and such
I would renew both dirt and harvest
sending seeds throughout the Earth

I always wished I had big shoulders
broad and strong to share life’s cares
I’d wrap my arms around the crying
help transform their tears to joy

I often wish I were a spirit
floating high above the world…
I’d watch closely for the hurting
act to foster hope’s rebirth

Copyright 2018-04-15, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.

Day 12 Prompt: Natural Landscape | NaPoWriMo2018

NaPoWriMo Prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you specifically to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. It may be the high sierra, dusty plains, lush rainforest, or a suburbia of tiny, identical houses – but wherever you live, here’s your chance to bring it to life through the charming mix-and-match methodology of haibun.

A Late Spring

Rabbits have eaten the bark from low Cotoneaster branches, leaving them bare to lingering cold, icy winds, and snow storms. Again this year, the bushes are at risk to dry and die when the heat does come, searing tender leaves. There will be no warm rains to waken grass seed strewn in hope, six months ago. Birds eat the grains, finding no new growth.

dormant flax seeds hide
beneath last autumn’s bent stalks
waiting for summer

Copyright © 2018-04-13, by Lizl Bennefeld.

Being real

This Isn’t Real?

what’s real

being real isn’t hard
if
you don’t expect today’s
real to be the same
as yesterday’s or
tomorrow’s version

reality changes as
the hours and days journey
through near and distant lands
inner and outer space
and down into the earth’s
core and out again

“real” is this moment—
nothing less and…
nothing
more

“What’s real” Copyright © 2017-12-05, by Lizl Bennefeld.

 

Back in the Day (30 November 2017)

Brewer: For today’s prompt, write a “back in the day” poem. You might also
call this a “good old days” poem or a “bad old days” poem. To me, back in
the day is synonymous with history–but a kind of personal history (even if
shared among a community).

gold field…harvest time
footprints and downed stalks trail us
our shortcut home

— Elizabeth Bennefeld, Copyright © 2017-11-30.

In childhood, we wandered throughout the neighboring pastures and fields, afternoons and early evenings and weekend days. We swam in the creeks and marshes, rivers and shallow pond, often coming home soaked to the skin and coated with mud. When we arrived home in answer to Mother’s call, she often made us strip at the back door and sprayed us down with the garden hose until we were clean enough to come into the house, put on clean clothes, and help set the table for supper.

 

Response Poem (29 November 2017)

Brewer: For today’s prompt, write a response poem. The poem can be a response to anything–a piece of news, some art, a famous (or not so famous) quotation, or whatever. However, I thought it might be a cool opportunity to respond to a poem that you’ve written this month. If both poems work, it could make an interesting dynamic to have two (or more) poems that interact with each other.

leaves on edge
dance to autumn’s wind
jeté…temps levé

Elizabeth Bennefeld, haiku: Autumn Dance, Copyright © 2017-10-18

yesterday, leaves fell
today they spiral upwards
reaching for the sky

as nature strives for balance
who falls down, must rise again

Elizabeth Bennefeld, tanka, Copyright © 2017-11-29

Remember Me (24 November 2017)

My husband and I have been talking about this writing prompt, how we feel about being remembered after we die. As a writer, I thought at first that I would want my poetry to be remembered (and I would be pleased if people printed out a poem or two that spoke to them, since one does not remember poems, and contrary to popular belief, stuff on the Internet does not hang around forever). And I write too much, too often, to produce comprehensive books of my work.

Ephemeral experiences, however, are worthy of being cherished. So often, I find, people remember me because of my smile…and mention it to me, when they see me again after our first meeting. Smiles. Laughter. Recognition of a momentary rapport with a stranger. A moment of not-aloneness. When I experience that, I feel somehow more real.


Prompt for the 24th: Brewer: For today’s prompt, write a “how I’ll be remembered” poem. It’s an interesting question: How will I be remembered? My amazing looks? My incredible personality? My charitable nature? My goofy jokes? The cranky guy who’s always telling people to stay off his lawn? Dive into this introspection today.

 

Remember Me

If you remember me at all,
recall my joy—my laughter.

Remember me. The one who
looked into your eyes
and recognized a friend.

No matter that we’d never meet again.

Remember me, taking notice of you,
drawing your attention. I laughed…

And you laughed, too.

Copyright © 2017-11-24, by Lizl Bennefeld.

Seeing Mother (16 November 2017)

my parents, photo taken in 2008 or 2009
Mother and Father

Prompt: “When I see my mother”

When I see her now
she looks so much younger—
filled with song

vigorous and happy, radiant…
sorrows past, still in love

—Elizabeth Bennefeld, 2017-11-18

Note:

My mother died on 15 November 2016 (age 94, and my father, a little more than 3 months later, age 100), and I have been trying to write a poem for the Day 14 prompt from PoetryPotion: “When I see my mother”.  It took me a while, but it was a writing prompt I wanted to respond to. (Also posting this on my Quilted Poetry blog.)

Partly Cloudy (13 November 2017)

This is a poem that I wrote for the “Ronovan Writes Haiku” weekly poetry writing challenge, for which two words are provided as prompts and synonyms are allowed. Haiku are, for purposes of the challenge, defined as 5-7-5 format…or writer’s choice, which often includes tanka, senryu, and, I expect, katauta and sedoka. Haven’t really kept track of all the variances. I first published this poem on my Quilted Poetry website: Partly Cloudy (Ronovan Writes Haiku).

alluring stars…
between dusk and daylight
so short a time
dreams drift past like clouds
some bring rain and others, snow
     Copyright © Elizabeth Bennefeld, 2017-11-13

 

November Weather (3 November 2017)

Today’s prompt is from The Daily Poet: What’s The Weather Out There?
tiny snowflakes drift
down in slow motion…to ground
too warm to hold them
Copyright © 2017-11-03, by Lizl Bennefeld.

 

Also, I made a stab at using the prompt for today from the NaHaiWriMo page: hurricane

 

hurricane of sights
cacophony of noises
chaos on chaos

worlds don’t end by fire or ice
but buried by falling stars

Copyright © 2017-11-03, by Lizl Bennefeld.

Solar Sky Diving (2 November 2017)

unfurl your wings
catch and sail the solar wind
from Venus to Earth

hide inside Luna’s shadow—
count the myriad divers stars

Copyright © 2017-11-02, by Lizl Bennefeld.

NaHaiWriMo prompt for November 2: solar wind.

I went with NaHaiWriMo’s prompt, again: solar wind. I remember reading a science fiction book (I think it was in Lightwing, by Tara Harper, 1992) that included traveling from asteroid to asteroid using foil sails powered by the solar winds of the star where their space station was placed in orbit. Sometimes I dream of it

Pedestrian – Photo Challenge

I like this one a lot, and so decided to put it here, also. This is the last week of “Introduction to Japanese Poetry”, and I’m really enjoying it.

asian lady beetle
Pedestrian at the Crosswalk

cross-branch travel
Asian lady beetle on foot
a common sight

air travel has appeal
but no snacks are served

Copyright © 2017-10-04, by Elizabeth W. (Lizl) Bennefeld.

Written in response to WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Pedestrian.