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In Praise of Decay

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(for Earth Day)

The forest floor,
a patchwork of cast-off leaves,
teams with busy life,
decomposing death —
breaking apart the pieces
which once fit together in being.

Detritus,
no one gazes at you in awe and wonder,
no one sings your stunning praise.
And yet the mighty oak,
the massive fig,
and the complex world within their structures,
owe their lives to your labour.

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Day Twenty-Two:  In honour of Earth Day, write a georgic.

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prayer

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I was shocked
by your hostility.

“Prayer! 


Right! 


That’s about as useful
as air conditioning on a motorcycle!”

Although they were supposedly meant
for the ears of one,
you flung those words across the room with venom,
slapping quite a few colleagues in the face,
raising eyebrows and lowering the heads of others.

The force of the delivery stunned us all.

And it made me wonder:

What happened in your life to make you so angry?

In my evening reflection,
with you on my heart,
I bowed my head
and lifted you to the Lord
in prayer.

 

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Day Twenty-One: Write a poem that incorporates overheard speech.

 

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Autumn

8 Comments

autumn

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Day Twenty: Write a poem that incorporates the vocabulary and imagery of a specific sport or game.

Can you find the sport I chose?  😉
(I had to make a jpeg of the poem as I wanted the formatting to be just so.)

 

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The Legend of Gladioli

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Cloud and Wind fought hard one day for first place in the sky.

Cloud rose up, billowing high, large and dark and grey.
Wind then blew a forceful blast to drive his foe away.

On and on the battle raged, neither could prevail.

Cloud unsheathed a savage sword to rend his rival in two.
Wind did the same, a sabre pulled, and at the enemy flew.

As blades met, the heavens roared, the earth trembled in fear.

On they raged, shredding the sphere, frightening creation below.
Then God said, “That’s far enough!! My power now you’ll know.”

He caused their burnished blades to fall streaking to the ground.

And where each weapon touched the soil a wondrous thing arose —
a spike of blossoms sprang up tall in sunshine to repose.

The feuding rascals stood quite still amazed by God’s good grace.

And so today those blooms still thrive, brightening downcast hearts.
Gladiolus, little sword, for peace we play our part.

 

 

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Day Nineteen: Write a poem that recounts a creation myth.

 

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Brazen Lass

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How snartly the moon does look tonight!
She creeps across the heavens,
weedly thracking into every star she meets —
even scrutching the moon a time or two.

 

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Day Eighteen:   Write a poem that incorporates neologisms.
A neologism (/nˈɒləɪzəm/; from Greek  νέο- néo-, “new” and λόγος  lógos, “speech, utterance”) is the name for a relatively recent or isolated term, word, or phrase.  It could be a made up word or phrase.  Lewis Carroll employed delightful neologisms in Jabberwocky.   Who cannot recite: 

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.

 

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Learning to Let Go

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So busy
going through the mindless loops
that tie each day together
to make a month,
a year,
a lifetime.

Then suddenly —
DEATH.
The full stop
which sucks out breath.

And the world
abruptly
stands still.
But,
not     the world.
For everyone else
carries on,
oblivious
to the darkness,
unaware
of the massive hole in the universe.

I cannot sit; I sink,
pulled down into lethargy.
Moonlight streams
through forgotten curtains
and bathes me
in her violet scent
and
I begin
to breathe
again.

 

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Day Seventeen: Write a nocturne. In music, a nocturne is a composition meant to be played at night, usually for piano, and with a tender and melancholy sort of sound. Aim to translate this sensibility into poetic form!

 

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Midnight Missive

3 Comments

 

Hey!
It’s me again.
Howzit?
Life’s okay on this side, I guess.
My brain’s a bit dead after a binge of Gilmore Girls.
All for the cause of ironing, of course.
Took three times as long to get the shirts pressed,
but it was entertaining.
I know it is not a very edifying programme.
Seems no one can make up their minds about which bed they want to sleep in.
Am I that weird or old fashioned to want romance and a knight in shining armour?
And when did sex become the be-all and end-all of relationships?
I’m a prude.   I know.
But you had something to do with that.

I had a long talk to Debbie today.
She’s mad as hell at you.
She still blames you for Don’s cancer.
Funny how she doesn’t believe you exist, but raises a fist and a finger at you.
I pointed that out to her and she snorted.
Said that she guesses she’s holding me responsible, since I talk to you.
That hardly seems fair.
I pointed that out too and she started to cry.
I want to give her hope.
I want to give her joy.
How do you do that?

Yeah, things can be pretty crappy down here.
But I guess you know that.
I think it’s because something in us longs for something more.
Sometimes I feel like we are all walking around with dirty lenses.
We can’t really see; everything is a bit blurry.
So we squint and try to make out the edges,
make hypotheses, dogma and judgments.

And I have to tell you,
there are a lot of people throwing your name around like they own it,
telling others where to get off.
They act like your henchmen, but they don’t act like you.
Sad to say they’re leaving an awfully bad taste in people’s mouths.
You are definitely not making any Brownie points there.
You know who I’m talking about, right?

Wow — sounds like I am focused on all the bad stuff.
It does sometimes seem like the world’s going to hell,
what with all the greed and bombs and death.
Those things make it hard to remember that there’s good.
Think we just need to be reminded sometimes.
And maybe we need reminding to be the good we want to see.
Well, I need it, anyway.
Poke me tomorrow when I can make a difference.

And while I’m asking for things,
help Don and Debbie,
please.
I don’t know what they really need, but you do.

Now I am going to go to bed.
I’ll see you in the morning.

And, thanks for being here.
Makes it easier to close my eyes.

Good night!

 

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Day Sixteen: Write a poem in the form of a letter to a person, place, or thing.

 

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