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
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
Hay(na)Ku, a new form by Eileen R. Tabio, has one word in the first line, two in the second and three in the third, with each word having as many syllables as you wish. Try one! (Cuyahoga Library Writers Center, Day 10)
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.