look at that! Poem #30.
30.
This morning
there was a small bell ringing.
I went
everyone went
everyone went hurrying
to see who was ringing the bell
it seemed to rush
running along the hedge
down the road.
jingling and rattling chiming
we ran along behind
and tried to glimpse
who was ringing the bell.
We cut across a yard
through an opening in the hedge
and met the cat.
She was as surprised as we were
and she kept running,
running away from her bell.
Not really part of my month-long arc of poems, but the prompt at NaPoWriMo.net was too perfect for today not to do:
Today, try taking notes while you are traveling. (Mental notes, if you’re driving!) On the bus, on the subway, in the car, walking to work, to school. Then write a poem that narrates the process of getting from Point A to Point B. Try to recapture not only the sights and sounds of your trip, but your mental state. Are you jittery? Sleepy? If you’re on public transportation, what’s the mood of your bus, subway car, etc? If you’re on the highway, is there gridlock? Is the sun shining? Are you happy to be going where you’re going? Who will you see when you get there? Try to keep the poem in the present tense.
morning most mixed up
did I really brush my teeth?
is the mail here?
Look! my packages!
ooooh books!
my jewelry! ooooh!
did I brush my teeth?
I should comb my hair.
cool book.
phone? really?
who?
realtor?
oh, ok. Everything’s good.
thank you. thanks for calling.
uh huh.
(have to go to work like now!)
ok thanks.
now! must go now!
putting on new earrings!
cool.
ok. off to work.
what? I didn’t feed you?
really?
ok. oops better get more food
tonight. Siri set reminder.
cat food tonight after work.
did I comb my hair?
ok. going to work.
driving. finally.
coffee up next.
what a weird morning.
wait.
no computer.
that means no wallet.
arrgh.
turning around.
Run in. computer. wallet.
wish I could stay home and read.
new books.
off to work.
omg hope the rest of the day
isn’t like this.
29.
Come be my love, dear sweet man
fear not my faery name
my parents shall not shun me
or make me choose another life.
Will your mother mind if her
grandchild sings a song
she has only heard in dreams?
The one my mother sang to her?
The child shall know a life
always of beauty and light
and will dance with the stars.
Although our life may not be
what your mother had imagined,
I promise you days of gentleness
and nights of dancing and kisses
I’m not casting spells on you.
You’re free to come and free to go.
You’ve naught to fear
You hold my heart
Take my hand and live with me,
my love.
28.
watching in the rear view
watching as the sky pours out
the impossible pink-red and yellow
from the solid blue late afternoon.
watching the golden light
skim the tops of trees
slingshot around the corner
of a stand of buildings
light up the cell tower
several towns over
I watch the light pour across the valley
the light painters justified
here it’s a hoped for common
these valleys this river
those hills, that next roll of hills
I drive and that light
catches my hand on the wheel.
I think of the nights I’ve stopped
to watch this as others pass by
while the sky moves from
pale turquoise to night
and the clouds light up and darken
and night comes on.
Tonight I thought no camera
could capture those colors that light.
I’m not sure my brain can.
Blind, I’d have to
imagine this light into being.
the change as the muntins
cross the nearby table
the warm, the cool and shadowed.
that explosion of air as it moves ahead
of the bank of clouds.
Though no explanation can justify
these colors, the transformation of sky
I drive, chasing the light
looking for the next place
to pull over.
From yesterday’s The Writer’s Almanac:
My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither but just enjoy your ice cream while it’s on your plate.
— Thornton Wilder 1897
The Emperor unites Heaven & Earth
