This is my response to DVerse’s “And the Sign Said” poetics prompt. We were challenged to use a sign as inspiration for a poem. These are photos of both sides of the Open / Closed sign at my work.
Flipping the sign in the window
From Closed to Open,
For the work day has begun:
I eagerly await the opportunities
To teach, and not only correct
But connect with every
Student who comes in.
I hope they know
That not only this facility
But my heart, in truth,
Is open too.
Silence
Can speak louder
Than words.
Poetry,
Is in the silences
The cadences
Meaning —
In the in-between.
Evidently, June 2 is national donut day. Linked to DVerse’s open link night.
Unassuming balls of dough
Are thrown into hot oil,
Then glazed or iced (pink frosting,
please!), dressed up in sprinkles
Or whatever strikes one’s fancy.
But before they are beautified,
A hole is cut from the middle,
And even that is fried,
But at least no piece is wasted.
Unassuming people
Are thrown into life’s trails,
Covered with fire and ice,
And holes are cut from their insides.
Yet even these pieces can be beautified,
It can one day create a sweetness —
I believe no experience is wasted.
A cat walks past,
Dark as a deep abyss,
And I would think,
“A bleak omen is this!”
But will it truly bring me harm?
Shall I judge how it appears?
No, not any more,
How many are unfounded fears!
Sometimes I think that something will be scary or unpleasant, but it doesn’t turn out that way. I often worry about things that never actually happen or are not as bad as I had feared.
This poem is called a cascade poem because of the repetition of some of the lines. Thanks to Jilly’s for the link to the instructions on cascade poems and the inspiration!
The days cascade like a waterfall,
And flow like a deep and peaceful river,
I am a stone into this river thrown.
Yesterday is over after all,
Though of its permanence I felt sure
The days cascade like a waterfall
Going from and to places unknown,
Skipping over many tiny pebbles,
And flowing like a deep and peaceful river.
How did I get here? One can’t surely say,
Yet, being here, I’ll live to the utmost:
I am a stone into this river thrown.
This poem was inspired by the city in which I live. It’s no longer a very small town, but it had a humble beginning. I am also linking this poem to DVerse.
This was a small town,
With orange groves
And oil derricks,
With unpaved roads
And wide open spaces,
I’d imagine neighbors
Gave each other
Cups of sugar.
Unfortunately,
All this happened
Before I was born.
Today the old high school
Is a Super-Target,
The new high school has
Run to the top of a hill.
I don’t see oil derricks
Or orange groves anymore.
The spaces have shrink,
Widening the gulf
Between people.
The clean dirt streets
Stretch on only in memories.
Yesterday’s daily prompt was to write about control, so I made this acrostic poem. I’m learning that always trying to be in control makes me become out of control, and clinging to the illusion that I can control everything becomes an obsession. I am learning to let go and experience life as it is, without trying to change what is not in my power to change.
Centering on control
Overturns any semblance of
Niceness; it
Turns traitorous,
Rancid, raucous, as
Obsession
Leaves chaos in its wake.
