It was obvious
I was never there
accusations
were that I was
since I was not lost
found my way around
knew the depth
of a verse
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Italics are titles of podcasts in this prompt from dVerse
On Writing
Word Dissonance
I search the day for pretty words
turrets of rain pummel them into the garden
where they remain until rot comes
maggots eat into their bouma
maggot grows fat from majuscules
creep over minuscules
chomp ascenders and descenders
lying there
in the riddled corpse of a word
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dVerse prompt to write a poem of dissonance
Words
Today
words
were
not
enough
to
write
a
poem
_______________
NaPoWriMo Day 23 prompt to be brief but on point
Chugging Along
Grandmother would read to me
The Little Engine That Could
After all those readings
I thought I could
I thought I could
I thought I could
Chugging along
Getting a poem done
I knew I would
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NaPoWriMo prompt to give yourself a positive pep talk
Write
Write about a seed in the garden
how it was placed in rich soil
when temperature warmed
your patience required
before there was a sprout
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NaPoWriMo Day 4 prompt to write a prompt poem concerning a prompt.
Amusing
Searching for a muse today
amongst the clutter of everyday living
accumulation of unneeded things
projects begun and never ended
heaps of writings piled neatly
It was there I felt it take a hand
beckoning for me to rise again
in words already vanishing
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dVerse prompt to write a quadrille and take a look for the muse
Crown
I wore it on my head
delirious from its weight
wanting to stay upright
posed and productive
ruling my thoughts
with more thoughts
demanding right words
to subjugate my subjects
learning to turn glistening crown
of diamonds and pearls
to a crown of thorns
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dVerse quadrille prompt with the word crown
On the Death of Robert Bly
I wanted him to live to be one hundred even though his readings had stopped years ago. Who am I to judge how long a man should live? Or how his living, his writing, his teaching helped my life. I was just a woman in his workshop at Centrum learning as much as I could.
He would take his class on writing walks. One day on a beach hike, we stood together and watched a fish die in the sand. Another day, we sat with an old stump that had once held up something magnificent. We translated Francis Ponge, “the poet of things”, and looked deeply into an orange.
seasons come and go
left alone to find my way
sad hearing the rain
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dVerse prompt to write a haibun on something or someone to be thankful for
Memory
It’s just me collecting words from memory to bring forth a future.
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dVerse prompt on memory combined with writing my first American sentence.
Asking
“What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”
(Richard always asked questions. Even when he was giving an answer, he would speak the answer in the form of a question. Sometimes that made life miserable and misunderstood. Other times it brought clarity and enlightenment.)
“Was it rhubarb?”
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dVerse prompt using the line from The Wasteland by T S Eliot
wordshophop 