Fallow time, moon-dark: no power
of words nor healing much less
smiles tears or beauty-making
(feeble light flickers in clouded lantern)
You know the black river under
starless skies ever cold and silent
No remedy but surrender
touch bottom (source-love)
and resurface
Title borrowed from “We Lying by Seasand,” by Dylan Thomas.
Contagious in spring, this desire
to create. The soul leaps like lambs
across greeny meadow and perches
on rock to sun, lullabied by rose leaves
and nesting birds, invisibly working
on breath, pulse, song.
From
here, onward.
Singing or silent: in beauty,
grace-full. (No boot-licking, hoop-
jumping; standing on shoulders, not crawling
on backs.) Step by step into black clouds (silver-
lined and electric,
alone-not-alone).
Listen for a still,
small voice, for
this way, written
on your heart.
Resolutions, in the end, never fail
to make me a liar
In the beginning I vowed
a month of poems
They were going to astound you
beautiful and profound
Inspired by Quickly’s Prompts #21: Take something from beginning to completion. I have a little trouble with completion…
Spring sun, you sound of blackbirds’
piercing arias (declarations of sky-dancing love),
rustle of lancet leaves uprightly translucent
in harmony with color-spun clattering chimes,
noble bees’ never-stinting rumble-hum,
grass growing
Spring sun, you smell of ripe-bursting blossoms, moist earth
under last year’s dried debris:
newness
Spring sun, your touch is returner’s embrace
(peace), a long daydream-dozy centered in
riot of nature’s joy,
uncurling of winter soul-muscle tension,
needless of hurry or self. You give the Now,
glowing
Inspired by (my interpretation of) today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: write a poem using sensory detail (at least 3 senses). Mostly I just wanted to sit outside, so my thoughts went in an obvious direction.
Spoken word concert
(born of books
free-form)
once few poets
left to help
world’s song
Inspired by The Found Poetry Review’s Univocalism prompt: Construct a poem using only a single vowel, with all words sourced from your newspaper. Obviously, I did something else entirely (cheated?) and used two vowels. Words from NPR’s jazz blog, “5 Points Where Poetry Meets Jazz,” by Pamela Espeland.
Mad-eyed from stating the obvious
and weary withal—what did you
expect from your sojourn
with this crudely formed clay?
Where obvious is the flavor du jour
every journey must result in frustration
a new vow to renounce
it all for your cave and a bagpipe-drowning
of the still, small voice
The days of sackcloth and ashes are gone
we will laughingly proclaim all our sins
in a most barbaric yawp. If you prayed
for subtle or sublime
you have come to the wrong town
Inspired by Quickly’s Prompts from April 9: Take a line from a newly-discovered (in my case, rediscovered) favorite poet and use it as a starting point. I used a line from Richard Wilbur’s “Advice to a Prophet.”
This love won’t make the world
go round
make one day flow to the next
gray winter
make one thing I dreamed
cost a dozen other
dreams
Graceful Press Poetry 