We are heading out
into the desert
after a day of journeying
We are tired
and here we go again
into the desert
to create a solo circle
and sit alone in the dark.
Our guide told us
Watch how the ego
wants to deny you
a new experience.
Stay with what you’re feeling.
Wish us luck!
For today’s NaPoWriMo prompt we were encouraged to write a poem with long lines. We were given Whitman as an example; I took a look at his “Song of Myself” and discovered his lines were twenty syllables long. The Irish poet Ciaran Carson was also mentioned. He takes his inspiration in part from the seventeen syllable haiku and strives to make each line clear, simple and concise like a haiku… Wow, okay…hmmm. Long lines, huh? I think I can do this.
It is Spring, almost May, and chilly
for a spring day–
and so I wore a sweater.
The morning dark, early the skies were gray
and continued this way
up until noon.
I sighed in dismay, and shivered
watching the trees sway
against the somber spring sky.
But then I watched my sun
run the ball, laughing at play
delightful noise and chaos.
In spite of the cold mind-mood
spring weather I can stay
and call this moment precious.
It was so cold for so long
I thought you would never get here
And then you teased me
for a few delicious days.
Then suddenly, mercilessly,
Old Man Winter came back and cackled,
placed icy hands around my poor heart and squeezed.
I just about lost all hope as I struggled to break free
of that cold, bony death grip…
But now you’re back,
I’m hesitant now.
Before I celebrate your return I must know–
How long will you stay?
The prompt for today: write a review. It was really open-ended. I thought I’d write a review of this spring. It ended up being more of a confession than a review, but that’s okay. Poetic license.
What the hell?
I just couldn’t help it. The weather hasn’t felt at all springlike to me, and I’m really missing that gentle spring warmth that makes this season my favorite. When I saw that the NaPoWriMo prompt for today encouraged us to write a tercet with only six syllables, I said to myself, “I know what I’m writing about.”
People hurrying, bundled,
running to the warmth of their homes.
But there are those without homes.
I wonder about the homeless;
I hope they will find shelter tonight.
Already this year,
six people in Baltimore have lost their lives
because of the bitter cold.
On this Valentine’s Day,
my heart breaks to think of it.
What can I do now but send metta?
May all beings be safe
May all beings be free from suffering
May all beings have mental and physical happiness.
May all beings be at ease.
May all beings be happy.
and the shadows begin to lengthen into the street.
Little wisps of smoke
curl out of the neighbor’s chimney,
mingling with the wind’s frigid kiss.
The golden sun shines bravely
through the winter chill
and promises that one day
it will be warm again.
Inside our furnace runs almost continuously
trying to keep up with our desire for comfort,
I wonder about the homeless.
I hope they have some warm place to go.
I wish for them every comfort that they need–
shelter, clothing, food, community.
For one moment
both of my children are quiet,
and I have this little moment to myself
to look around and see all that I have.
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It’s too late in the year for snow to be falling
But somehow as we left the restaurant to go back home tonight
That’s just what was happening.
Driving home in driving snow, visibility low,
it could’ve been January or February.
My seat warmer on, heater blasting,
wishing for gloves? In April?
Oh, the humanity!
Someone give Mother Nature the memo.
It’s spring, and it’s supposed to be warm.
The 70 degree days flow into 50 degree nights.
That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?
In spring I look forward to sitting on the porch and sipping tea
Or watching my children dig in the dirt of the back yard.
But not today…no, the rains came steady and unrelenting
And in the evening the rain gave way to snow.
The ivy my husband planted in the hillside
will be crying for mercy tonight
as the cold weaves its frozen fingers
into delicate cell walls newly rehydrated
Who knew the temps would fall to 27 degrees–in April?
Will the ivy survive?
I’m just glad to be inside. Alive.
I’m grateful for warmth and shelter.
Isn’t this the kind of thought I should be having in December?
Ah well, it’s April and it’s snowing.
Certainly a spring I will remember…
On the heels of the daffodils blooming
and the pink saucer magnolias unfurling,
cherry blossoms reveal their delicate centers.
Stretching across the emerald green seas of neighbors’ lawns,
forsythia hedges burst bright like yellow curtains.
And now snow fall, in April,
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to remind us nothing is certain.