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
Even when it wants to dance
it can’t find the beat
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,
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Creating a Library Display
so much depends
a green paper
with a sharp
beside the paper
Here’s my 14th entry in the 30-day Poem-a-Thon for City of Refuge. I have the moon on my mind.
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
I almost forgot to write something today for the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon, but managed to get something knocked out after all.
The Window By My Bed
I was often sleepless even
as a child and watched the night
unfold outside the window by
my bed, knew which neighbors
came home late and stumbling,
which other windows of other houses
would have a light on at midnight,
became familiar with the erratic
shadow theater of moths and bats
playing out around the streetlight
on the corner, the same one where
the big boy from a few doors down
would stop many nights to extinguish
a tiny red glow, flicking it
away into the dark, before
exiting my field of vision
himself, leaving a faint glimmer
of mystery lingering on.
Today is day nine in the City of Refuge 30-day Poem-a-Thon. Here’s my entry.
From the closet each April I retrieve my most
valiant protector, a woven oval
of straw, a simple band of blue fabric
its only flourish. Not all heroes are
flashy with a complicated backstory.
Sometimes a quiet, stolid presence provides
the most effective aid, and I have learned the pain
of disregarding this fact.
This is my day eight entry for the City of Refuge April Poem-a-Thon. A little attempt at humor today.
Poet’s Narcissus, Identified
Seventy-four species identified
by the app on my phone. One more, I get
a badge. Puffed up with my near achievement
I scout the neighborhood park for a plant
or critter to put me over the top.
Across the creek, frilled white bonnets bob in
the breeze looking freshly laundered, each one
framing golden lips lined in red, puckered
for an expected kiss. My phone app says
seventy-five is Poet’s Narcissus.
So perfect! Were these placed here just for me?