Once again, I have a response to Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry, at the last minute. This is about how, this year, I had a bunch of plans and it’s all down the drain now. 🙂 I am also sharing this with MLMM’s Tale Weaver, because any attempt to plan this year has become an epic fail. Without furthr ado, these are our paint-chips:
January 2020: the year was a
Blank canvas of optimistic possibility,
A green flash to signal, “Go for it.”
March 2020: a rainstorm was brewing,
We began to become tongue-tied,
Under the sea of shocking surprises.
September 2020: somehow we have
Tumbleweeded through a surreal summer,
Crispy leaves and autumn colors are coming.
I am a glass of fresh-squeezed
Orange juice, filled with the pulp
Of pressurized emotions, in my skin.
He holds a key that’s half his size,
As a giant feathered-thing flies
Away with him, away, as he stays
Looking at the moon. He’s left a piece
Of himself, never to be released
From that beautiful, liminal gloom.
I am sharing this poem with today’s Writers’ Pantry. It’s a shadorma that I wrote this morning. I intended to post something else but honestly think this is the best poem I’ve written recently that hasn’t already been posted.
cast in mist,
the future’s blurry
past is missed,
must be content with distance,
masks and Lysol spray
This is for Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry #35. I think it turned out okay for something that was almost a stream-of-consciousness, but I do think we were supposed to write something uplifting, which did not happen this time.
The future is like a red-velvet cake:
Despite its classy name
I’ve never preferred its flavor,
Just give me the same
Chocolate cake I’ve been baking.
Here’s a piece of honesty: I’m bluffing
When I say it’s exciting.
This “new normal” is like planting
An acorn in a little terra-cotta pot —
Do you expect a towering oak?
Sunrise is my favorite time of day:
Morning-glory hues up high
But I must ask if it is morning that’s broken,
Or if under that sky,
It is I who broke, and am breaking?
A haibun inspired by Frank’s challenge about crickets, and the last FDDA, about plans for September. I will miss FDDA, but I’m always grateful for FOWC. I’ve also been trying to respond to other prompts, but this is the best one that I wrote today.
Tomorrow begins September. There are no particular plans, but I hope for more time with friends and being able to actually enter the church again. There were no plans for August, either, other than my friends’ live-streamed wedding on the 1st, but the month was better than expected. I’ll take September one day at a time. Too much thinking and I’ll start sinking in anxieties. As always, I’ll be hunting for the silver lining.
in silence a sound:
August chirping a goodbye —
crickets out of sight
For Ronovan’s décima challenge this week, we are remembering smiles 🙂 By the way, I’m feeling pretty happy today.
Pushed out of usual surroundings,
It takes some time to recognize
What good remains under one’s eyes,
What beautiful music still rings.
The dull ache of loss, grief, still stings:
Perhaps it is taking a while,
To find several reasons to smile.
It’s better not to overthink.
Right now, is there some joy to drink?
Even a sip, sight, not denial.
For DVerse Poetics today, we are to write inspired by wheat. At first, I was completely at a loss for any inspiration, but tonight I wrote this Chaucerian stanza.
Unless a grain of wheat shall fall upon
The fertile ground and die, a sacrifice,
It remains a single grain; but once gone
It returns, and is now worth well past twice:
Potential on which you can’t put a price.
Does wheat feel trepidation ere the fall?
Is falling in the field falling at all?