Mockingbird, NaPoWriMo 2020, Day 30

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Every year–

I wait for spring

to hear again

the mockingbird sing–

the effort he exerts—

that brings to me such pleasure.

 

Now hear the sound of robins, cardinals, jays,

all of their phrases within his song

so long, and repeated with such power,

calling from above the flowers

as he perches in a tree.

 

See—he struts,

with wings outstretched

he flaunts his stuff—

 

but it’s his voice that floats

above the pink-petaled rain,

he’s sustained

by hope–or desperation–

the sound

goes ‘round and round

through the midnight hours

 

singing with so much might

he summons dawn’s light—

 

and still he sings

into the after.

 

So. . .many of you know I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and I stopped participating in this year’s NaPoWriMo and other prompts. But, here’s one on-prompt for the last day of NaPoWriMo to write a poem about something that returns. I felt like doing a bit of rhyme.

I’m also linking it to Open Link Night at dVerse, where Kim is hosting and notes “we are listening.”

 

 

 

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Dreams and Stars: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 16

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Redon, “Barque Mystique”

 

days turn to night

and back again–

dreams drift,

a barque on a mysterious sea

 

~above the stars dance~

 

and we reach up, swallow them–

filled with honeyed light

we whisper in shimmered tones,

leap–and fly.

 

This is a puente. I didn’t have a chance to post it yesterday for Day 16 of NaPoWriMo, but I’m off prompt. I’m linking this to dVerse’s Open Link Night, where Lillian is hosting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Moving On, NaPoWriMo2020, Day 15

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Delaware River at sunrise, moving on.  April 2020. West Deptford, NJ

 

Waiting now–

ghosts and dreamers drift

on ifs, when

hope moves on,

the world is shaken—but watch–

it tilts, seeking light.

 

A shadorma for Day 15.  The NaPoWriMo  prompt for today is to write a poem based on a song or music. I chose a favorite, “Move On” from Sunday in the Park with George.  Probably Sondheim has a song for everything. I feel like we’ve all been doing a lot of waiting. I took this photo yesterday morning when I went out walking while I was grieving for my cat and the world.

Here’s Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patinkin singing “Move On.”

 

 

 

 

Mickey: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 14

 

Yesterday did not dawn. It oozed grey with an oppressive silence, punctuated by thunder. There was a tornado warning in effect for the afternoon. Then, the storm clouds cleared, and the sun shimmered on the trees as we drove to the animal hospital to say goodbye to our cat Mickey. From the window of the little exam room we could hear birds singing. Maybe Mickey heard them, too, but I know he heard our voices and felt us petting him. He purred before he went to sleep, never to wake.

Today, dawn came. I walked, watching the sun rise and listening to the birds–and the world seemed a little less broken.

 

white cat paw clouds drift

slumbering in the sunshine—

trees drop pink teardrops

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Mickey’s quirkiness matched his one blue eye and one yellow eye and his long legs. He loved chasing his orange ball. He hid from strangers and growled at some people, but he loved to sit with us at night and get neck rubs. We miss him.

 

 

Handprint: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 12

 

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Once stars shimmered brighter in the night,

and you left your handprint, a symbol on the wall,

the red ochre now faded, but it was a brilliant sight

once. Stars shimmered brighter in the night

then. I wish I could see that light–

trace it–like your mark where you stood tall

once. Stars shimmered in the night,

and you left. Your handprint, a symbol on the wall.

 

The prompt for Day 12 of NaPoWriMois to write a triolet. I haven’t written one of these in a while, and it seems harder than I remember.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Language of Flowers, NaPoWriMo2020, Day 11

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John Singer Sargent, “Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose”

 

Dance

with flowers in your hair,

carnation, lily, lily, rose,

hear their secret voices

rising in the air—

carnation, lily, lily, rose.

 

Breathe

perfume on a summer breeze,

carnation, lily, lily, rose

listen to the song of sky and trees,

carnation, lily, lily, rose.

 

And if your heart is seeking why or after—

remember here, the children’s laughter

a sudden memory that dazzling blows–

of carnation, lily, lily, rose.

 

This language of flowers, your soul comprehends–

the joy, the ghosts, the beginnings, the ends.

 

Today’s prompt for Day 11 of NaPoWriMo asks us to consider the language of flowers, which led me to Sargent’s painting. I also consulted the Magnetic Poetry Oracle  becuase I knew she would have something to say about this subject. The form of this poem seems sort of nineteenth-century Romantic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

April Wind: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 10

 

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Blowin’ in the Wind

 

The wind moans, a dissonant ghost

Ooooo it sighs, as it drifts through trees

and shifts down streets, then with a boast–

I travel wide, cross land and seas

in gusty gales and gentle breeze–

let birds soar high and then take wing,

flying on currents, singing of spring.

 

It’s cold and windy here today. We even had some snow flurries. Yesterday and the day before we had thunderstorms.

I’m off prompt for Day 10 of NaPoWriMo,but on prompt for Frank’s 7-line poem prompt at dVerse. I’ve done the rhyme scheme for a Chaucerian stanza, but I’m not sure that I got the meter right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the Storm

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After the storm–a world in a puddle

 

Under

and upside-down,

there is another world

of trees and clouds. A different sun

shimmers,

illuminating this dream-place,

ephemeral, lasting

a brief wind-kiss,

then gone.

 

For today’s NaPoWriMo, Day 9 prompt to write a shape poem. This is a butterfly—two cinquains that are merged into a butterfly shape (but not actually two cinquains). I hope that also works for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge.

Some people know I’m a bit obsessed with reflections. 😏

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Am Not Ready: NaPoWriMo2020, Day 8

 

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I am not ready for anything to happen,

I never am—

 

but I am not a bird or tree

with naked branches covered

now in tender yellow-green, newborn

reaching skyward,

like toddlers wanting to be held—

 

but we stand back,

admire from a distance

the wispy clouds

caught by unseen winds, drifting —

 

I am drifting–

not ready, I’m not, never am,

but look—

that blue, that white, that yellow and green,

dancing on a robin’s song.

 

I am not ready,

anything can happen.

It can, it has, it does–

but look again,

the pink moon rises,

and soon will come the dawn.

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Pink Moon, 2020

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 8 is to use a line from a poetry bot. I used a line from the Sylvia Plath Twitter Bot. The line, the first line of my poem, actually comes from her poem “Three Women.” My poem has nothing to do with her poem—I simply used the line.

I apologize for being so behind in reading. So many prompts, and so much poetry–which is a good thing! Tonight is the start of Passover, and we had a family emergency this afternoon (everyone is OK).