Tag Archives: poems
K ‘Bye!
K ‘Bye! or If Only I’d Been Prudent
(NaPoWriMo2017 – Day 3)
Breakthrough
Adieu
Untrue
Withdrew
Wishing for a breakthrough? – Adieu! – See?
Knowing you’d been untrue withdrew me.
This is a Tyburn Poem, which is a six-line poem. The first four lines consist of a single, two-syllable word, each rhyming with the previous and subsequent word. Line 5 has nine syllables, with the fifth to eighth syllables using the words from lines 1 and 2. Line 6 has nine syllables too, with the fifth to eighth syllables using lines 3 and 4.
Training
(NaPoWriMo2017 – Day 2)
5 years friendship
12 miles bike path
4 gym shoes, slightly worn
2 caps baseball
3000 milliliters water
Locate 6-mile bike path, and confirm that at least one end has parking. Fill 2 water bottles for each person, set aside. Dress comfortably. Be sure to use baseball caps to protect eyes and face from the sun.
Walk together. Share funny stories. Ponder aloud. Reveal fears and worries. Discuss emotions. All of them. Listen. Provide pep-talks.
Pause
Notice the breeze. See the color of each leave, noting the differences since the last walk. Celebrate the slivers of sunshine that drip through the canopy of trees above. Pay attention to the beauty around you. Declare the metaphor among long walks and important friendships.
Continue walking to the end of the path. Drink more water. Turn around and make 6-mile return hike.
Prompt for 4/2/2017
Today, I’d like you to write a poem inspired by, or in the form of, a recipe! It can be a recipe for something real, like your grandmother’s lemon chiffon cake, or for something imaginary, like a love potion or a spell. NaPoWriMo.com
Later (#NaPoWriMo2017 – Day One)
Two pine trees stand next to each other, like best friends who have walked next to each other for a lifetime — buddies, pals, comrades. I can practically visualize their outstretched hands, in the form of a hammock, reaching to each other in perfect backyard bliss. Immediately, I know that I must go shopping. Several stores later, I find the colorful hammock that promises rest and relaxation. The tropical colors sing Caribbean beaches and mango-flavored moments. This is the one. I buy it, bring it home, and put it in the garage. It is getting dark and there are papers to grade, dishes to wash, and laundry to fold. The afternoon of spring warmth and hope sets with the sun, and the hammock will get hung up the next time I have an hour to spare.
Backyard hammock bliss —
Roped between trees and wishes —
To enjoy “someday.”
“The haibun is a combination of prose and haiku. It was originally developed as a sort of travelogue or character sketch , in which the writer would first describe a place in prose, and then pen a haiku appropriate to the place or scene.” – (This was actually the prompt from 3/31, not the one for 4/1, but that’s okay.) http://www.napowrimo.net/
When I Grow Up, I want to be a Fire Truck
Fire truck
I remember looking through
an old childhood book,
In which I had added
My two cents.
With all of my sense,
And my backward-letter
Penmanship, I had plotted
my plans
on the page.
“When I grow up
I want to be
a firetruck.”
Since then,
I had laughed at
Such silly, sophomoric
Sentiment.
“Look,” I’d say, and point
at my self-prescribed,
Pre-school script.
“I really took it to heart
When they told me I could be
Anything I wanted.
A firetruck?
What could I have
Been thinking?”
But, tonight,
As I listed and lamented
The long list of
Other occupations
I had once considered:
Interior designer,
Psychologist,
Cultural anthropologist,
I realized something. . .
Haven’t I since,
In a sense,
Become all of these things?
Except for the fire truck.
But that, perhaps, is
What I am to become.
I still
Want to be
A fire truck!
You see, of a fire truck,
Nobody has ever said:
“Don’t listen to her,
she’s just overreacting.”
“He’s making all of that noise,
Because he didn’t get his way.”
When fire truck wails and screams,
nobody says:
“She has become angry and bitter.”
“Maybe he wants something to really cry about.”
“She’s probably about to get her period.”
“He’s being irrational and crazy.”
As the fire truck
Declares an emergency,
Nobody dismisses it with:
“I don’t know why she is crying. It was her own fault.”
“There he goes, getting all political again.”
“She has no reason to be upset.
She is just being manipulative.”
“Dude, seriously?
Are you complaining again?”
But, a fire truck is respected,
Heard, heeded, honored.
The fire truck is a warrior,
Shouting out
An alarm call,
A barbaric yawp,
A siren cry to save lives.
The fire truck is
not a second-hand good.
Not a victim,
A fire truck is not
Something to be seen and not heard,
But instead,
Is a voice.
A voice that matters.
A voice that pushes through denial
Saying
“Hey!
There is something wrong here.
I can point it out.
I can lead the way.
Hear me.”
I still
Want to be
A fire truck!
Forget Fearlessness (for Joanne)
I remember that you wanted
to be
fearless,
And I remember
How you seemed
Disappointed in yourself
That you were not as
Fearless
As you expected yourself
To be.
My friend, you are
Not fearless—
Never have been,
Never will.
I know that seems harsh,
But what I am
Trying to say
Is that
You
Are
More
Than
Fearless.
You see,
Fearless lacks fear.
Fearless
does
not see
or acknowledge fear.
At all.
Fearless does not care.
Fearless has no worries.
Fearless is
not concerned.
Fearless doesn’t grapple.
Fearless does
Not
Consider the
consequences.
Fearless does
not require
perseverance or
stamina.
Fearless does
not spend time
to evaluate
or reflect.
Fearless does
Not
Weigh the
Costs
And benefits.
Fearless is for an instant.
Fearless is empty.
You are
Not fearless.
You are brave
And courageous.
Courage is complete.
Courage takes commitment,
Knowing the risks
But acting on
Behalf
Of
others.
Courage is compassionate,
Considering the impact of
The actions,
the inactions,
and
the reactions.
Courage sees fear,
looks it straight in the eye,
Nods with acknowledgement,
And then does
what
Is right.
Courage worries—
Courage loses sleep
And agonizes
While sifting through
What is obvious
In order
To
Find
The truth.
Courage evaluates the options,
Weighing the costs
And benefits.
Courage thinks and reflects,
Constantly soul-searching
And searching souls.
Courage makes a
careful
and brave
decisions.
Courage stands
When it would be easier
To fight
Or to flee.
Courage takes time,
Perseverance,
And stamina.
You are not fearless,
but
you are
Brave
and courageous.
Healthy Fear
Clean Slate
Arlington Heights (NaPoWriMo – Day 29)
I remember days on bicycles
Riding from edge to edge
Of town.
I remember pool passes
The smell of chlorine on our towels
And in our hair.
I remember legendary rounds of
Capture the flag, with every kid
In the neighborhood.
I remember Banbury Road
The one street allowed to angle and curve
Through Scarsdale.
I remember the Frontier Days
Parade, Carnival, music
Then fireworks at the track.
I remember hide-and-seek
In the stacks of books at the
Public library.
I remember Green River sodas
And onion rings at the best restaurant
Eros.
I remember the friendships
That have continued through decades
Real and timeless.
Jeep (NaPoWriMo Day 28)
JEEP
Buggy
Four-wheel drive
Plowing over fear,
Playfully cruising through,
Handling wild, worldly weather.
“All-purpose motor vehicle”
The Read-e-ologist 