thedamari

Poem: Year of Grief and Fear

I’m going to be a real downer with entry #20 for the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. I came across a snippet of journal writing I did in late 2016, which was a terrible year for many of us on a large scale, but also one of the most difficult years I’ve ever experienced in my personal life. Anyway, I adapted it into a poem.

Year of Grief and Foreboding

My heart has become
a heavy-footed drunk
pounding the walls
disturbing my rest
railing against loss
upon loss.
Even when it wants to dance
it can’t find the beat
staggering with
uneven steps
raggedly rhythmless.

Haiku: Callery Pear

Day 19 of the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.

I work a clopen shift at work Tuesday-Wednesday. So I’m always exhausted by the time I get off work on Wednesday. Today, I also spent half an hour moving dirt after work. All of this to say, it’s a haiku kind of day.

Callery pear, lace
covered beauty entices,
odor repulses

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Poem: Marbled Orb Weaver

Entry 18 of 30 in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.

I have written about marbled orb weavers before on my blog, but this time I turned it into a poem.
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Marbled Orb Weaver

Such a lovely day
even this bashful
leaf dweller couldn’t
hold out against the yearning
to embark from the shadowy
security of its home
by the creek
and explore the delights
of the afternoon
carrying the sun on its back

Poem: Luxury Resort

Today’s entry for the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon is an ekphrastic poem. I followed the email prompt this time, which explains ‘”Ekphrasis” means “description” in Greek, and it has become the name of a kind of poem that describes a work of art.’ The email included a link to a site for random images and I used the first one. The image is a jumping off point for me. My poem is not meant to be an exact description.

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Luxury Resort

Someone quarried the stone
for the rustic walls.
Someone felled the trees
for the finely crafted
furniture carved by human hands.
The rugs were woven on a loom.
By whom?
The lovely potted plants did not
bring themselves to the setting.
Presumedly someone does the watering.
Authors and artists devoted
hours (months? years?) to the
creation of the coffee table books
that someone selected and someone packed
and someone delivered.
How many workers labored
to lay the granite floor?
Someone scaled ladders to hang the
mood lighting, placing it just so.
Someone cleans it all
day after day after day.
Every 12 seconds someone remembers
that we’re all in this together.
So says the sign someone
hung near the entrance.

Poem: The Shape of Lightning

Where I live, lightning is a frequent visitor. For my day 16 entry in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon, I experimented with the visual presentation of my poem. Remember, what I’m posting this month are first drafts, subject to change.

With Apologies to William Carlos Williams

Halfway there! Day 15 of the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. I was short on sleep last night and had to work all day. With little time or energy, all I came up with was this little light-hearted scrap about part of my day.

Apologies to William Carlos Williams and his red wheelbarrow.

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Creating a Library Display

so much depends
upon

a green paper
cutter

with a sharp
blade

beside the paper
scraps

Poem: Luna Enough Alone

Photo by SevenStorm JUHASZIMRUS on Pexels.com

Here’s my 14th entry in the 30-day Poem-a-Thon for City of Refuge. I have the moon on my mind.

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Luna Enough Alone

Don’t mine the moon, that’s my advice
Not that anyone asked
Turn right around from that intention
I would say to anyone who listened
Is not the brightness in the dark
Enough for us or must we raid
Luna for every resource
Is not the astonishing push
And pull on our tides help
Enough for our needs, enabling
Life on Earth and all, its lambent
Presence inspiring art and love
Can’t we allow ourselves
To leave wondrous enough alone

Erasure Poem

Today’s entry for the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon is an erasure poem. That’s where you take some found text and erase or black out parts of it. My found text is the Missouri attorney general’s emergency rule making trans health care nearly impossible to obtain — an attempt to erase trans Missourians.

Erasure

Haiku for Poem-a-Thon

For my 12th entry in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon, I’m back to haiku.

Puffs of white on the
horizon bring no rain, stand
of blooming dogwoods

Poem: Last Piano Lesson

Day 11 of the the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.

Last Piano Lesson

Once he was going to be a concert
pianist, his fingers
shaping his whole future
composing and performing to wide
acclaim, the dreams of a 12-year-old
plus his mother and the
teacher who discovered
and showed him his best musical self.

Three years on a decade of lessons
ended on the same bench
where his feet once dangled.
He had grown into a visionary
aware of many possible bright
futures with the boldness
to explore new dreams and
the youthful wisdom of letting go.