Say the Word

I went out to the garden

looking for spelling bees

there were many beside me—

a bumble bee entered foxglove’s bell

it was not the one I seek

then one buzzed my head

anxious at my presence

to say the word

say the word

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dVerse prompt for a quadrille using the word spell

Say the Word

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

Word Dissonance

Blooms

I want to know what makes a flower bloom

My tulips look like I planted upside down

Iris are all green with lanky stalk

Lilies look so small and disarrayed

Is it the lack of nutrients in the soil

Or winter’s low shading of the sun

My pear tree must have flower to fruit

Without blooms peas and beans retreat

Do not waste away another day

It’s time to fertilize fertilize fertilize

Come alive

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NaPoWriMo Day 16 prompt to write a curtal sonnet.

Blooms

Underwater

When I was ten, I learned to swim. To hold my breath, submerge, and move underwater. Only the torso, legs and arms of other people were visible. No heads. I never timed these underwater adventures but swam about like some kind of fish. Eyes open but no gills; just my expanded lungs, increasing capacity to stay under longer and longer. I became an orca scouting its prey. My feet, the fluke, pounding surface with each new breath. My mouth spewing water into the sunshine.

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NaPoWriMo Day 8 prompt to write your alter ego.

Underwater

Sleeping In

I have forgotten what breakfast tastes like. Although it is known as the most important meal of the day, I sleep through it. No smells of bacon and coffee brewed. It is winter and I am asleep in my bed. Outside the plants do the same. They are not yet ready to be uncovered.

deep roots in soil

keep life suspended in time

waiting for new warmth

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dVerse prompt for a winter haibun

Sleeping In

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

On the Death of Robert Bly