For this week’s Weekly Scribblings at Poets and Storytellers United, we are writing micro-poetry, so I wrote this tanka today.
Longing for my God —
Weeping willow-branch reaching
For what’s out of reach —
Her long hair falling groundward
While the trunk continues strong
Here is another tanka, this time with paint chips for Linda Kruschke’s prompt this week.
A voice’s new leaf:
Song on the tip of the tongue
Sharps, flats, ebony
Ivory piano keys
Play on, harmonic music
This tanka is for Frank’s haikai challenge trifecta and also for this prompt about windows.
at the end of June
looking out on summer lawn
sun scorches dry grass
from behind glass window pane
chilly air blows through the house
This poem is a response to this prompt about wildlife. There’s plenty I could have written about, even in the city where I live, because plenty of birds, butterflies, lizards, and other animals live in the garden in my backyard. Today I was particularly inspired by being in a park with a lake earlier. The water sparkled, and so did some of the insects. Also linked to DVerse OLN.
Jewels on the lake:
Helicopter-dragonfly
Hovers in the sun
I have a whole bunch of partly-written poems today. Here’s my haiku for Frank J. Tassone’s challenge about clear water.
in the midday heat
welcome life-restoring sips:
at last comes relief
A haiku for Ronovan’s current haiku prompt and FOWC: Echo. Later today, I will try to post something less dark.
echo of weeping
alone in her empty home
often goes unheard
A haiku for Frank J. Tassone’s haikai challenge. I haven’t participated for a while, mainly because I didn’t know that it was back, so I am glad to contribute again!
greater than the parts:
the sum of a rainbow’s arc
white light refracted
A tanka for this prompt.
A car without gas
With a squeaky steering wheel
“Check engine” light on —
Check in with distant friendships.
Bring them closer together.
Today’s stream-of-consciousness Saturday is an interesting prompt: we are to write about the memories / associations we have with whatever happens to be to our left, when we sit down to write. I was sitting in my back yard and saw a new. little sign in one of the pots in the garden: “Plant a seed and watch it grow.” That was the seed for this post. 🙂
What happens when a survivor
Wants to stop surviving?
This piece of identity
Crumbling
What happens when the birds
Make her so happy,
But their songs fly
Like their wings?
What happens is, even when
April is new-born and sunny,
There is an understanding
Of what Eliot meant
When he said April is the cruelest month.
This is so not the poem I intended to write, but life has a way of throwing stuff at us, right? Hooray for being able to respond to NaPoWriMo day 23 and the Weekly Scribblings at PSU.
