Monday: An Etheree

Pain.
Joint fail.
Knee twists and
I scream and fall.

Existentially,
this mirrors Monday's work.
New school pattern and new
Ways of thinking and being now.
"Do your best" with teaching, home, kids; yet –
Somehow, enough never feels good enough.

I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month, writing one poem for each day in April. 

(Thanks to Elisabeth Ellington for introducing me to the etheree form.)

Quarantine Questions

"Mom?"

Poke
poke
poke.

"Mom?
Can the
Easter
Bunny
still
come?

I mean,
with the virus...

can the
Easter 
Bunny 
still
come?

He'll be 

six

feet

away

from

us

because

we

will

be

asleep.




Right?"

Tiny voice, big eyes.
My little boy,
all swagger and 
"Dude, that's epic!"
one minute,
and worried about
the Easter Bunny the next.

So big, and so little,
and so lost in
our new world.
Looking for something 
to hang hope on.

"Yes, Sweetie.
Bunnies are not quarantined. The
Easter
Bunny
will
still
come."

"Mom?"

"Mom – maybe we should
wipe the basket handle off? 
Just in case?"

And my heart breaks.

Haiku times two

I decided to write a haiku today. Not really because they are short, although that always helps. Instead, as I stood on my deck in the rain with my son, watching the birds hop on the budding apple trees, unaware of our presence, I felt that this was a moment that deserved a haiku. Traditionally, haiku have nature imagery, and maybe something enlightening to say. I don’t feel particularly enlightened ever, but I did feel that I had some imagery to share. Since my haiku are usually wildly untraditional and often sarcastic or ridiculous, I thought the moment I was experiencing deserved an attempt at a proper haiku.

In rain, hummingbird
Buzzes rosemary flowers.
Silent cat watches.

And, as a bonus, because I cannot help myself, I wrote a second one about another transformative experience today.

Amazon has it!
Toilet paper! Buy it! Oh-
No delivery.

Writer’s Block

Zoom to words
Juggle rhymes
Catapult them, haphazard, into form.

       Butchery.
       Not poetry.

Line up colored pens.

      Start
            Stop
      Scribble
                                               SCRATCH

r    e    a    r    r    a    n    g    e

New colors do not
Pour forth new ideas.

Brain buzzes
Empty and enervated

too much work
too much technology
too much thinking…

…too little feeling



It's time to face it.

Today

      I have
      no poetry
      in me.

______________________________________________________________________________

Today’s prompt was about finding ten random words and exploring rhyme, then using as many of them as possible in today’s poem. I pulled ten excellent words from the novel that I am reading, and I found some interesting and some challenging rhymes. However, they did not want to be a poem. Not even a little bit. Instead, what wanted to be written was a poem about the process, in which, instead of rhyme, I explored alliteration, pattern, and structure.

I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month, writing one poem for each day in April.

Reflections on gardening

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo was based on a chapbook of poems by James Schuyler. While I worked in my garden, I reflected on observation and detail in poetry, and a few phrases started to circulate in my head, eventually leading to this poem. I doubt my result is Schuyleresque, but he was my starting point.

Pull
Shake
Toss

Repeat

Goat skin gauntlets
protect winter blasted skin,
like swaddled bulbs and plants
protected from weather's wrath
by the mulch I gently brush away.

Bend
Lift
Clip

Repeat

Hands in motion permit
my mind to roam free – 
away from the flat gray sky
the imminent rain
the daily pressures of sequestered worrying –

Dig
Hoe
Shape

Repeat

I trim the dead;
embrace the new.
Pause in the winter emptied garden,
Contemplate the quiet waiting,
Sip my tea and think.

Violet scented steam 
rises from my cup.
Perfumed with spring
that's yet to come.
I, too, shall wait, and endure.

#NaPoWriMo (It’s April)

April being the cruelest month, and me being cooped up inside for what feels like my entire life, I decided that I wanted to continue writing every day after the March Slice of Life Story Challenge ended, and I wanted to write poetry. Today did not get off to an excellent start on the poetry front, as I had to do my second day of working from home instead of not working, I left the house for the first time in two weeks to pick up supplies from my school to start online teaching next week and pick up supplies from my son’s teachers so he can also start online school next week, and my cooped up 9 year old got increasingly depressed until he was so worked up at bedtime that he felt sick. So it is now 10:45pm and I am exhausted and not feeling very poetic, but I will give it a stab anyway. I am not willing to give up on the very first day!

Day Nineteen

Rain dripping
Spirits and skies gray
Cats pacing

Toys boring
Learning distant
Working a memory

Breaks my heart
to tell a child
No – no
      ...to playdates
      ...to the park
      ...to the zoo
      ...to the forest
      ...to the playground
      ...to the beach
      ...to a hike

No school, no classes, no friends, no plans

How do you tell a child
No to life,
In order to 
preserve life?

Please let this be an April Fool.