Battle Wounds

The soldier makes his way / along the trail
His battle is for survival / of his colony and queen

Starvation is the enemy / until the foe
Unleashes their chemical weapons / and he is lost
The trail is gone to him / and he is alone

To be cut off / from his kind
Is the deepest wound / not to be of service
As his colony is being attacked / and destroyed

/ / /

This poem was written to the “Battle (blank)” prompt all the way back on the Day 9 challenge in April at Poetic Asides. This poem was also inspired by the Day Nine prompt at NaPoWriMo.

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Family

Father casts a spell / that starts the morning
The aroma of coffee brewing / and the kitchen light on

Son casts his spell / bringing noise
His good morning to the father / who grunts in reply

Dog casts her spell / bringing joy
Her gentle licks / and wagging tail
Bringing son / and father / into full waking
Now they are a family again

/ / /

This poem was written to the family poem prompt all the way back on the Day 8 challenge in April at Poetic Asides. This poem was also inspired by the Day Eight prompt at NaPoWriMo.

Ham Salad

You are neither ham / nor are you salad
At yet, you are no imposter / I don’t feel jilted
You are delicious
Which is more than I can say / for other imposters
Who do leave me feeling disappointed / and angry
They paint this picture postcard / view of themselves
But reality is not a postcard / or a poem
They impose this view of themselves / on me
But it does not hold / as an image / or a poem
It is a sham / unlike you / ham salad sandwich
You are delicious

/ / /

This poem was written to the day five prompt at Poetic Asides to write a food poem. I was also inspired by the craft resource from day five at NaPoWriMo: Some Thoughts on the Integrity of the Single Line in Poetry by Alberto Rios.

Impulse to Circle

What is the impulse to escape? Where do we move to?
Do we move as if dancing? As if singing?
Or is the sad truth that we don’t move at all?

After we retire, how do we light our way?
Down which corridors do we linger?
Will we reminisce in public spaces?

How ingracious of me to decide
everything for us.
Despite your longings, everything
you said to the contrary.

You evoke brilliant points
and scholarly arguments,
to which I am accustomed,
until you part from me.

And I am sorry, humbled,
for all those years;
and then I walk upwards,
continually resolving to listen.


/ / /

This poem was written to the day five prompt at NaPoWriMo, reacting “both to photography and to words in a language not your own.” I used the photograph below, and the poem was “Que exíguo impulso se move e não esquecemos?” by Rui Cóias.

marcus-puschmann-black-and-white-photograph-4

Delana. “Moving Monochrome: 7 Black-&-White Photographers.” WebUrbanist, 10 July 2013, weburbanist.com/2008/11/13/black-and-white-monochrome-photographers-and-photographs/.

“Rui Cóias.” [Que Exíguo Impulso Se Move e Não Esquecemos?] (Rui Cóias) · Lyrikline.org, http://www.lyrikline.org/en/poems/que-exiguo-impulso-se-move-e-nao-esquecemos-13574#.WtFycdPwau5.

Case of Happiness

If we were to think on happiness
we would find that it is
much more so than it is not.
It is something
real and ready
for us, but it is not bought or made.

Thinking on happiness, it
goes, but it also comes
to us. It is from
us, from me, from your
heart. It is something you own,
built from your actions.

/ / /

This poem was written to the “Case (blank)” prompt at Poetic Asides, as well as being inspired by the “something abstract” prompt at NaPoWriMo. It is a golden shovel; the source is this quote by the Dalai Lama: “Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.”

CR-V

I, hands on the steering wheel,
my Ray-Bans on against the glare

You, sitting beside me,
Facebooking

The teenager, texting
a friend on his iPhone

The dog, beside him,
eagerly waiting our arrival

waiting so patiently
for the pack leader

to get us all
to the dog park

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the “portrait” prompt at Poetic Asides and the “poem that plays with voice” prompt at NaPoWriMo.

Hearth

You sift the flour
The finer particles fall

You think on
what is left

What will not go
into the cake

Your family will love
this confection

You hold
the bitterness apart

This will be
your secret

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the “secret” prompt at Poetic Asides and the “secret shame” or “secret pleasure” prompt at NaPoWriMo.

 

Editors are looking

Editors are looking
for merit and appeal
The author is convinced

Editors look
at the marketplace
the needs

Editors must consider
a wide variety of books
Children are not all alike

/ / /

This is a found poem. Source: Karl, Jean. “On Editing.” Innocence and Experience: Essays and Conversations on Children’s Literature, compiled and edited by Barbara Harrison and Gregory Maguire, Lothrop, Lee, & Shepard Books, 1987, pp. 445-447.

You can’t teach

You can’t teach
    Make them believe
Creative writing
    You know the secret.

Confessing my doubts
    I would be covering myself
Seemed the most honest approach
    If I were a dismal failure.

A certain amount of learning
    It takes a little push
To write stories
    In that direction
Comes through reading them.

The process of writing
    If one thing doesn’t work
Is largely that of asking questions
    You try another
And solving problems
    You go back.

/ / /

This is a found poem. Source: Bond, Nancy. “On Not Teaching Creative Writing.” Innocence and Experience: Essays and Conversations on Children’s Literature, compiled and edited by Barbara Harrison and Gregory Maguire, Lothrop, Lee, & Shepard Books, 1987, pp. 445-447.

The act of reading

The act of reading
worthwhile

Classrooms
will reflect this

Good books are
strewn around

Children share their latest
favorites

Reading aloud
Talking about books

Silent
reading

/ / /

This is a found poem. Source: Tieman, Joan M. “On Teaching.” Innocence and Experience: Essays and Conversations on Children’s Literature, compiled and edited by Barbara Harrison and Gregory Maguire, Lothrop, Lee, & Shepard Books, 1987, pp. 443-444.