April 14, 2016 The prompt is to Write a Time-Out Poem

 

(Every Tuesday and Thursday, I go to a yoga class at the Y for one hour. This is my time. No phone. No contact. I am alone in a sea of people who are also alone; we are doing ourselves. We are doing nothing else.)

My Yoga

Strength

Balance

Breathing

Energy

I am  

T

R

E

E

.

.

.

Rooted and reaching, my leaves growing to East, to West

I shift from being a Child to a Warrior in the course of one hour

Soft to inflexible

Cradled to keen

Strength

Balance

Breathing

Energy

Learning how to breathe again,

In

Out

In

Out

Resting, as I have not rested in the past

Resting now, as I cannot rest in any place other than here

Free

Strength

Balance

Breathing

Energy

I cross my hands over my heart and thank her for beating

I thank her for being strong and giving me a day

After day

After day

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading

April 13, 2016 - Last_______ - Fill in the Blank

Last Trip

It was the last ski trip of the year

Less like snow and more like ice 

but longer daylight

We took sips from the suede wine bladder your stepfather brought from Spain

Our spindly legs dangling from the lift chair, leaning from side to side

Singing oh way oh oh way oh

You kissed me with rotten berry lips, the wine was awful, I felt your hot tongue inside my mouth and bile rising from high in my throat, I would've died for you to know

I saw you again in the summer. I was off to school and you were working for your father and accruing solo hours in your brother’s Piper Cub. You said we should meet some night and hang out. I knew what you really wanted

You'd been dead for nearly a year before I knew about your plane going down, caught in wires from flying too low, doing tricks and showing off.  I remembered everything about you. I smelled English Leather. I heard your rough laugh. I felt your hand on my belt buckle. I missed you. I missed any chance with you

Thanks for reading......

April 12, 2016 The prompt is to write a serious poem

One Sided Conversation

-If a boy comes, it’s my son; please let him in.

-I am always expecting him. I expected him from the beginning… (giggles a little). Don’t we expect all our children?

-Yes, but my son came first.

-Oh, you will know him. He’s handsome and always smiles. He’s a real sweetheart.

-How old is he? Well, I guess he’s not a boy, is he? (Giggles a little again.)

-Yes, he is a man now.

-I’m not sure. I spoke to him on the phone around Christmastime. But I can’t… I’m not quite sure the last time I saw him. But I’m sure he will come.

-Yes, he's a man now; you are right. But to me, he will always be a boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading....

April 11 - Prompt is to write a Defensive Poem

The Defensive

I’m sorry for what happened

to you and I want to be your friend

but things will never be the same.

You turned everything upside down

like a vase of flowers

knocked off the table,

falling in slow motion,

everyone trying to catch

a different flower and save it.

Petals everywhere, and

water, like blood,

flowing all over the floor,

unavoidable,

making us slip and slide.

We slid right into a future

that found us two decades later,

incapable of truly communicating,

barely able to reach out.

I’m sorry

but I can’t help you anymore.

>>>>>>>>>

Thanks for reading.....

April 10, 2016 - Prompt is write a poem about an emotion

SAD

Downtown the other day, I saw the face of meth and it made me very sad. It’s everywhere.

A young Asian woman with an empty baby stroller in Westlake Center sat at an outdoor table with a Caucasian man and they were both so jacked up, they were freezing in the brilliant sunshine, surrounded by people in tank tops and shorts.

She was talking so fast, her words were like spattered paint. I thought about who she is, where did she come from, are her parents looking for her. Where was the baby that once occupied the stroller?

It broke my heart to watch her tapping her foot, her knee going like a piston… nowhere… fast.

Her partly concealed beauty probably keeps her going, fix to fix. She was so young, not that much older than my 12 year old granddaughter.

My granddaughter and I had been to the art museum for an exhibit, after a cloth napkin lunch at The Brooklyn.  I held my granddaughter’s hand and pulled her closer to me, elbow to elbow.

Such sadness to think how some children fly away. Like moths to flames. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading.....

April 9, 2016 Today's prompt is a hideaway poem.

I wrote a little poem for my daughter's friend, Anna, whose baby came two weeks early, so kind of out of hiding. Anna had her belly henna'ed not realizing she would be delivering imminently. So much beauty.....

Welcome, Kylie Rose

Your last photo did not look like a belly two weeks out.
I noted to myself the nature of the shale and beckoning contour,
the imminent character of arrival;
i beg your parson for such joyous verbosity...
your daughter has arrived in global poetry month.
how appropriate for
angels to deliver on wings of a song,
beneath a mural of love.

Thank you for reading....

...............

April 8, 2016 --- A doodle poem (start by describing something close at hand or within your current field of vision)

       Downtown Doodle

Waiting for bus,

Vapers everywhere, pipes with agendas

and vampires, too

ghostly people, commuters

H&M big posters in the sky

hoist muscled men into air, swing, back, forth

on leads with giant 

hooks, keep them from falling on

Comiconners

Comic conners,

Conning comics

Convention in town

all weekend

Costumed Spiderman, woman, child

Men in utilikilts

stovepipe hats

Faeries, Highlanders

Jokers

Dopers

Admen, messengers

Barristers and baristas

Buddhists selling peace for dollars

Ice green tiny convertible jockeys with

Swaying supersized semi

No scratches, just honkhonkhonkhonkhonkhonk

Cowboys, flower ladies and

one man with a bible and

a BIG message

Starbucks cup rolls into the gutter

Caught by breeze caused by

My bus

Freeway

Free way

Free

Way

>>>>>>>

Thanks for reading............