While walking through the park, my dog Chules and I pause at an apple tree. I am drawn to the white-pink blossoms and the bees that float among them. Chules is more intrigued by the base of the trunk, and the invisible messages left there by other dogs. He lifts his leg and adds his own note to the trunk.
cherry blossoms wane
pink petals carpet the ground
apple tree looks on
Day 29 of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). In response to dVerse prompt: Haibun Monday: late cherry blossoms.
Day 13 of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt:
Donald Justice’s poem, “There is a gold light in certain old paintings,” plays with both art and music, and uses an interesting and (as far as I know) self-invented form. His six-line stanzas use lines of twelve syllables, and while they don’t use rhyme, they repeat end words. Specifically, the second and fourth line of each stanza repeat an end-word or syllable; the fifth and sixth lines also repeat their end-word or syllable. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that uses Justice’s invented form.
And so:
April’s full moon – the Pink Moon – lights the sky tonight.
Its name evokes spring flowers: creeping phlox, moss pink.
Where I live the red flowering currant blooms now.
Amongst shrubs with still bare branches, a pop of pink.
I stepped outside to view the moon. It wasn’t there.
I’ll check later. Perhaps it’s neither here nor there.
Flowering currants are first to bloom in my yard
of native species. Osoberry comes on next.
Its small pale blossoms don’t make nearly the same splash.
Oregon grape blooms next, and then the next, and next.
The Pink Moon is not pink; the red currant blooms are.
I’d check again, but cat-in-lap says no, so here we are.
I saw your magnificent blooms
sprawling as only magnolias can do,
soaking in the sun’s warmth under a balmy blue sky.
Caught by a sudden springtime squall,
your drooping petals skittered to the ground,
blown away like loose debris across a windy beach.
Growing up on the Pacific northwest coastline,
I was taught to never turn my back on the ocean,
lest I be caught off guard by a fast-moving sneaker wave.
My dear magnolia, it appears you would benefit
from a similar vigilance. Never, never turn your back
on April.
a lazy rain-beat symphony,
luscious and raw through shadowy mist.
a forest sings of dreams and time,
and I recall
how sweet spring moonlight smells.
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)...
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.
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.
You slip into the crook of my arm as I recline on the sofa, your diapered bottom cradled like a football. I can feel your body beneath my hand rise and fall with your breathing. You – most likely – can hear my heartbeat as your head rests peacefully on my chest. I could, I think, sit like this forever.
Budding hearts of spring.
All is new; life pulses through
Veins and vines and views.
______________________
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.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 