Tag Archives: poetry challenge

I Recant

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Today’s poetry challenge at dVerse is to write a palinode. As host Grace explains:

A palinode or palinody is an ode or song that retracts or recants a view or sentiment to what the poet wrote in a previous poem...

The writing challenge is to write a palinode. This can be in relation to a poem you have written before (please link or include prior poem)...

My prior poem, which I posted on April 13 of this year is Spring Reveal:

Whose legs these are I think I know;

Encased in jeans all winter, though.

Today I’ll shave, first time this year!

The spring reveal: legs white as snow.

And the palinode:

These legs of mine I will not show

Although it’s spring, it’s way too cold.

I’ll not yet shave as legs with hair

Are warmer than when they are bare.

Found!

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The poetry challenge today on the dVerse site is to write a “found” poem using the words on book spines.

Bjorn asks us to:

Go through your collection on books, and note the titles.
Sort them so the titles form a poem.
Take a photo of the books.
Write down the poem.

And so, my found poem — a haiku of sorts —  with its found title:

Finding Your Way

found poem

wherever you go
roads of destiny — options —
some answered questions

dVerse ~ Poets Pub: Finding poems in bookshelves

It’s here: NaPoWriMo

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NaPoWriMo celebrates National Poetry Writing Month, where one writes a poem a day for the entire month of April. As I did last year, I am participating by responding to the prompts given at the site NaPoWriMo. net.

The “early bird” prompt for today: “Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poetic self-portrait. And specifically, we’d like you to write a poem in which you portray yourself in the guise of a historical or mythical figure. “

So here we go!

woods

 Self-Portrait as a Sasquatch

It seeks me out,
hunts me down…
the commotion, the cacophony, the confusion.

I want none of it. It hurts my head.
I seek refuge in the cooling shadows of the forest.

I become curious, though, and
come out of the woods,
down from the mountain,
dare to be seen

only to discover nothing has changed;
the commotion, the cacophony, the confusion…
my head hurts.

Retreating back to the shadows, I content myself
with the serenity of keeping my own company.

The warmth of the sun brings sustenance to my soul,

but it’s not yet time.

A Toast to Childhood

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“Cheers, everyone!”
Glasses raise in salute.
“Clink glasses!” a child calls.

Same granddaughter who clapped and “yay”ed
following a somber hymn at my dad’s funeral.
That’s how her performances are received.

I smile and bend down
toward her happy face.
“Cheers, little one.”
Always.

cheers

dVerse Quadrille #70: Poems of Good Cheer

Insider

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flame4

Your conspiratorial wink
seeks my complicit nod.
A pact, an inside joke
among us privileged.
What’s the punch line today?
Racism? Xenophobia? Homophobia?

Today the tacit agreement ends.
I will look you in the eye – unflinchingly –
and say, “No more!”
Straight. Into. The. Mirror.

dVerse Quadrille #68: Wink

Old but New

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floor3

I don’t know when the original hardwood flooring was covered with carpet. Times change. Tastes change. A beautiful, gleaming oak floor in the mid-fifties came – over time – to be seen as an outdated, cold, hard to maintain surface. Carpets – with so many shades and textures to choose from, so warm to the feet on cold mornings, so… modern! – were slapped down right over the top of the oak floors. Adding insult to injury, no one even bothered to use drop cloths when they spray-textured and painted the walls before laying the carpet.

Times change. Tastes change. When I discovered the oak floor beneath the tacky, cheap, outdated carpet, I was delighted! Scratches, minor water stains, tack and staple holes give it charm and character to my eye. I will not revive it to its pristine 1955 condition. I will clean it up and let it blend in with the industrial chic vibe of other rooms in the house.

Times change. Tastes change. A new homeowner will come along some day. They won’t see the hardwood floors as the treasure that I do. They’ll likely wonder why I exposed the cold, outdated eyesore of distressed wood flooring. They’ll cover it with god-only-knows what. Hopefully, as the transition from trend to trend and back again continues, the stalwart wood will at least be given the courtesy of a drop cloth. Is that too much to ask?

autumn turns to fall
transitioning to itself
changed yet unchanging

Haibun Monday – Transitions 

Turning In

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chules at night2

It is 10 PM. My dog Chules stares up at me from the floor, where he has been sleeping most of the evening. He wants to catch my eye so I will realize it is bedtime. I’m not sure how he distinguishes between his many naps and bedtime, nor do I understand why he feels responsible for getting me to turn in at this particular hour. Nonetheless, bedtime it is.

As per ritual, I open the front door so he can go outside and relieve himself one last time. Not wanting to draw moths to the light inside, I step out onto the porch, close the door, and wait in the dark for Chules to finish his business. Sometimes he gets right to it, sometimes he goes off on a final check of the yard’s perimeter. On warm nights like tonight, he is just as apt to sit on the lawn and gaze at the stars. I join him in sitting and gazing, though I’m certain our ruminations run on very different tracks.

it is quiet tonight except for the chirping of crickets. I don’t recall having heard them for quite some time, and I find comfort in the familiarity of nature’s music. So much of it has gone missing. After a time, I stand and Chules comes trotting back to the porch. We go inside and — having settled my mind and his kidneys — we retire to our beds in peace.

crickets serenade
on dark, warm nights I eavesdrop
songs not meant for me

dVerse haibun Monday: crickets