One

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Day Twenty-two

 

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Catarrh allows for only this,
all I will accomplish today.
Our morning walk,
a drop of rain for remembrance,
how delicate we are,
how lovely we are,
and how we are all One.
May we take care of her,
this beautiful Earth of ours,
for she is generous in her benevolence.
Happy Earth Day.

 

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last but not least, here is our prompt for the day (optional, as always). In honor of Earth Day, I’d like to challenge you to write a georgic. The original georgic poem was written by Virgil, and while it was ostensibly a practical and instructional guide regarding agricultural concerns, it also offers political commentary on the use of land in the wake of war. The georgic was revived by British poets in the eighteenth century, when the use of land was changing both due to the increased use of enlightenment farming techniques and due to political realignments such as the union of England, Scotland, and Wales.

Your Georgic could be a simple set of instructions on how to grow or care for something, but it could also incorporate larger themes as to how land should be used (or not used), or for what purposes.”

La Peregrina

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Day Twenty

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A child’s game it seemed,
a line scratched into earth,
not an escargot’s spiraling swirl
but a straight, no nonsense incision

Lilacs bloomed early
at winter’s end, a season
that never chilled

Spring lolloped
over outlined angles,
triangles, rectangles,
side-by-sides,
ignoring crisp precision to
cast clouds of purple
brume across the day,
a honeyed balm,
a Pilgrim girl’s
scotch-hop from
purgatory to heaven,
plum child’s play
under Dante’s smile.

 

Author’s Note:

Prompt from Day 20 at NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last but not least, here is our (optional) prompt for the day. Today, I challenge you to write a poem that incorporates the vocabulary and imagery of a specific sport or game. Your poem could invoke chess or baseball, hopscotch or canasta, Monopoly or jai alai. The choice is yours!”

Genesis

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Day Nineteen

 

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It’s odd
and
I don’t know for certain
yet,
deep inside
there is a kernel of recollection
of my beginning

a breath, a gentle
wisp, and I
came into being,
no more important
than rock or star,
dandelion or dewdrop

and

I wonder
if I catch how true
rock and star and dewdrop
tender their design

while

I dissolve
my gossamer filaments tied
to the quickening exhalation of genesis

 

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaNoWriMo/NaPoWriMo:

“And now for our daily prompt (optional, as always!). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a creation myth. It doesn’t have to be an existing creation myth, or even recount how all of creation came to be. It could be, for example, your own take on the creation of ball-point pens, or the discovery of knitting. Your myth can be as big or small as you would like, as serious or silly as you make it.”

 

Milk Glass

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Day Eighteen

 

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Little you, that piece
of you, first bud
on lilac’s branch,
will bloom forth
without burden.

Little you, that
sadness you hold,
a milk glass trifle
of memory past,
will fade.

Little you, those
tears, rainlets to wash
away abandoned hope,
sun faithfully dawns.

Little you, you are
as vital as the least
imperceptible cell
and the most
eloquent planet.

Little you, rejoice
in you, for you are
perfect, simply
by your creation.

And that is all
that matters.

 

Author’s Note:

Not following the prompt today, but borrowing a word. Thank you, Vandana Bhasin.

Nocturne

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Day 17

 

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Draw near to me
under nocturne sky
one hand on hip
the other in mine
And we’ll dance
until dawn appears
to release our
engagement
into Aurora’s
sphere

 

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I challenge you to 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. Your nocturne should aim to translate this sensibility into poetic form! Need more inspiration? Why not listen to one of history’s most famous nocturnes, Chopin’s Op. 9 No. 2?”

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Secret Garden Nocturne

Where Shall We Meet?

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Day Sixteen

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I’ll meet you
on the hill
near Mother Tree
just before dawn.

And what day is this
we shall meet?

A day like any other
when sun rises
above cattails
and stream.

Well, what month
do we meet?

This one or that,
anyone that suits you,
simply the one that
brings you to me.

What shall I ferry?

A candle to light your
way until sun throws
her wisdom
along our path.

And herbs to scent
the air, and a book
of holy words to fill
our bellies.

What else?

A bowl for water
to wash away
dust of the past,
to hold precious blessings
for the present, and
discern a crystal view into
future’s quest.

Is there but one more
thing I should bear?

Your heart,
only that vessel
empty and open,
ready to be filled
with awe and wonder,
joy and reverence,
for this moment,
our union,
we will never
chance upon again.

Author’s Note:

Prompt for Day 16: NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today I challenge you to take your inspiration, like our featured interviewee did in the chapbook she co-authored with Ross Gay, from the act of letter-writing. Your poem can be in the form of a letter to a person, place, or thing, or in the form of a back-and-forth correspondence.”

 

Transformation

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Day Fifteen

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Besieged by blazing light
as one door closes,

there is an in-between
obscurity, a light blindness.

A consuming fear. Another
debilitating call to surrender.

It is in this constancy, in trust,
I accede my acclimation.

Author’s Note:

Missed a couple of prompts this week….life

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last, but not least, here’s our prompt for the day (optional, as always!). Because we’re halfway through NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something. The poem could be about being on a journey and stopping for a break, or the gap between something half-done and all-done. Half a loaf is supposedly better than none, but what’s the difference between half of a very large loaf and all of a very small one? Let your mind wander into the middle distance, betwixt the beginning of things and the end. Hopefully, you will find some poetry there!”