Poem-a-day Withdrawal

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.

UNEXPECTED 

  

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 

For Momma 

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. 

 

THE LOOK 

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 

Namasté!