National Poetry Month Day 29

Where did April go?

At NaPoWriMo, the suggestion was “So I challenge you today to write a poem based on a headline – it doesn’t have to be “big” news – it can be any news at all, from the girl in your town who won a contest for growing a potato that looks like Queen Victoria to the tabloid offering definitive proof that aliens are designing celebrity Oscar gowns.” LOL it’s April 29th – what news story would that be then?

Meanwhile Not Without Poetry called All-y all-y in come free and said: “Today is a free day! Go write that poem that’s been lying in wait. Or use one of the prompts that you had to skip previously. Or just start something deliciously, gloriously new!” Hmmm and what new thing was starting out today?

Thoughts on a Royal Wedding

Sunlight and flowers
Invited and crowds
Spit polish and shine
Silk and jewels
Precision and timing

Don’t you feel that tear,
that little catch, at their joy?

They seem so happy
no matter how nervous.
They balance on the familiar
The touch of hands, the look,
the intimate smile.

So my friendly witness from afar
of this stately wedding –
who gains more?
My kind wishes to them
or for me, their hopeful happiness.

I can think for them –
stay open to love, be kind,
sing for each other.
Or is that message from them
to me?

After my very early rise this morning, I spent the day sewing down a long stretch of facing. Sewing multiple lines of black stitches down a long side of a quilt needs a lot of light and probably would have been easier with more sleep. But it’s still a lot more done than when the sun came up today.

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National Poetry Month Day #28

Go here for the gallery version of today’s photos

Tonight the sky glowed
I stopped to watch sky and lake
Only peacefulness.

The green Frost spoke of
That gold of willow and birch
burst over our hills.

I’m done wondering
how beauty returns each Spring
into a bleak world.

I should be sleeping.
Big wedding day tomorrow.
Where are my good pearls?

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Things that make you stop and watch

Click for full views:

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National Poetry Month Day #27

Lot of stuff going on today. I got an email today that said:

Our panel of jurors met on Wednesday April 20, 2011 to review entries for THE ArT-QuILT ExPERIENCE exhibition co-sponsored by the Stone Quarry Hill Art Park and The Art Quilt Experience Group. The Jurors agreed that the quality of the entries was exceptional, and we are pleased to inform you that your quilt, Primordial, has been accepted to be shown in the THE ArT-QuILT ExPERIENCE exhibition.

That’s rather exciting news and means I’ll be doing a lot of hand sewing in the near future.

The email was sent this morning but ended up in Spam. Who knows why. I didn’t find it til after I got home tonight. Anyway, this is an interesting thing to have four quilts heading out to three different shows. Huh. I may need an assistant or something. The show openings go: Quilt National, The Art Quilt Experience, and Sacred Threads.

Only a few more days to National Poetry Month. It’s been an interesting experience to me. Not quite what I expected. Didn’t really change my writing habit except making the point to write every day, ready, idea-bearing or not. Tonight I sat down with not too much of any idea on hand and this is what I came up with:

Day 27

27 days
scraping syllables off wall
making poetry

I don’t know where ideas come from
I don’t know what art is, or why
this thing is and this thing isn’t.
I’m quite sure I don’t want to know
why this one makes money
and that one starved.
And if you push me on it
push me to explain my own work
I’ll just give you seventeen syllables
and let you reassemble
your own thoughts.

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National Poetry Month Day #26

Today’s poem came from the prompt at Not Without Poetry. Strangely, NaPoWriMo asks us to write Spam Poetry based on all those spam emails. Regular readers will remember that I riffed a bit on a bit of blog comment spam so I hope that will count a bit in that department.

I started this at lunch and worked on it a bit more when I finally got home from work.

I Sit Up In Bed At The Open Window

The slightest breeze sounds
yet where moves the air and trees?
But for the whisper, the birch is still.

Down the road, the peepers
calling calling calling
filling their pool with life.

In the birch a bird stirs
just a ruffle of feathers
the foot shuffle, blinking, then sleep again.

That curious sound: pad pad pad
A cat comes up the steps;
determined, stealthy. Silence. Up on bed.

The stars shine behind
the birch’s smallest branches
the dark Way making the leaves gleam

The rumble of a car
pulling in late, down the road.
Then just my breath.

The workroom clock ticks.
The late night train calls out.
a dog barks twice and once.

This perfect late Spring night
balanced relaxed waiting
The night dissolves into the night.

Mary Beth Frezon 26 April 2011

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