|National Poetry Month Display @ Forest Hills (Photo credit: mySAPL)|
A week has past since my last Poem-A-Day prompt from Robert Lee Brewer at the Poetic Asides blog. I must admit, I am having trouble coping with the lack of a prompt each morning! I know it sounds silly, but, for whatever reason, I became addicted to getting up early, rushing to my computer and forcing my braincells to function.
If you are not familiar with the Poem-A-Day challenge, it happens in April and November. Each day, Robert expertly offers a prompt and his own poetic attempt. (A good leader always gets into the trenches with their troops!)
Some days, the prompt is so easy - like it had been waiting there just for me. Other days, I sit staring at the computer screen wondering what Robert was thinking when he came up with the prompt in the first place.
Interestingly, I have always managed to write something. Grant it, there are times when I wish I could have waxed more eloquently. Those are the times I remember that even Einstein made mistakes, but it was those mistakes that got him where he needed to go.
Since this blog is about words and how they can heal and touch our lives for better or for worse, I will share with you a couple of my favorite poems from this year's challenge. I hope you find something in them that will stir your soul.
I catch your shadow
at the corner of my vision
Turning, expecting your smile
to fill the room with light -
I am disappointed.
Why do you hide from me?
Why can't we commune -
you on your plane of existence,
me on mine?
I am disappointed not to see
completely your light.
The thought of you makes me smile -
the heart sees without vision.
Lingering with your memory,
I sit in the corner.
THE GATE ONCE THERE
Like St. Millay's ghost
I walk ancient garden paths
Bending over mint
Yellow butterflies dancing
Passing through what was once new
TOMATO SOUP CAKE
Back when metal scraps where collected
to benefit the boys over there,
during times of leg makeup and seamed stockings,
as blackout curtains shut in the light, and faith
shut out the fear,
my mother learned to economize.
No eggs – no problem!
Grabbing a can of tomato soup,
some flour, soda, raisins,
stirring in some cinnamon and cloves
to add a bit of spice to the concoction,
she would create a treat
any Yankee Doodle sailor would come home to.
Like ducklings in a row,
they sit, hands folded in prayer
until the youngest begins the dance
of all four year old, bored by the mundane.
From the corner of her eagle-eyes,
the mother perceives the wiggle
A snap of the head, a look
all action stops!
Copyright on all poems above by Linda M. Rhinehart Neas - 2012