Lately I have been reading through the Poetry Foundation website like a novel. Sometimes I search a theme, sometimes I just read through the site recommendations.
By doing this, I have discovered some amazing poets who were previously unknown to me, and I have also discovered some interesting forms of rhyme and meter.
I experimented today with a rather unusual rhyme scheme in an eight line stanza. It’s been so refreshing to take time each day and write. I’ll tell you, it does something good for my soul.
Never stop dreaming big dreams, friends—it’s the only way you’ll ever attain them.
On small boats, through the long canals, they came settling in the lowlands, digging ditches building dykes and drains, trying hard to tame the water running uphill. They resolved to change their thinking; new habits evolved and soon sleek dwellings began to appear great in hope and greater in scope than fear until the gleaming wheat claimed their riches.
Tell me why it is that hordes of locust love to swarm in the warm, wet month of May. Sudden rain like the mind keenly focused, calls and corrals a throng of living things. And so folks lived like paupers on shoe strings eating barley grass and growing green beans while listening to the constant humming of water flowing and tymbal thrumming. None too soon, the greedy beasts flew away.
And then more dreamers came, some in sleek boats skimming through the canals, seeking reprieve from the mundane and stale in hull-less oats; some carting a lifetime of hopes and dreams in broken barges with leaking seams. But come they did with courageous fervor, to be farmer, builder, and observer— full of faith, hope, and the power to believe.
Today’s prompt was based on this poem by Claire Wahmanholm, which transforms the natural world into an unsettled dream-place. One way it does this is by asking questions – literally. The poem not only contains questions, but ends on a question.
The challenge was to write a poem that similarly resists closure by ending on a question, inviting the reader to continue the process of reading (and, in some ways, writing) the poem even after the poem ends.
Today was the day, rising
early to head to the water.
Was that the grasses waving
good morning as we drove by?
Squinting against the sun shining,
who did I hear whistling
high-pitched and clear through the sky?
What bright sparkling caught my eye?
Whose nest was filled with littered bits —
brilliant twig jewels in morning light?
All at once I saw them coming
fast and furious diving downward flight
orienting with the wind, floating
on air, streaking like lightning
hunting by high dive, plucking fish
like cherries from the fresh water.
Head buried underwater, tucking
talons back, gripping their wriggling
prey on upward ascent. Tell me,
what do you whisper to the wind?
--A Draft Poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan
Today’s prompt was to write a poem using Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” as inspiration. So here’s my stab at it. Let me know what you think in the comments below and follow me for more of the same.
I dream of immense white sand
rolled out beside a rocky
shore, piles of dunes rising like
mountain castles--like places
of refuge for the weary.
I see the whitecaps riding
on the backs of waves when
their weight grew too burdensome
to carry, the slow rhythmic
mesmerizing ebb and flow.
I feel each deafening and
weighty expectation, my
mind thick with hesitation
and uncertainty, my heart
knowing what the stars demand.
I taste the salty sweetness
of tortilla chips and wine—
each bite and sip reminding
me of two divergent roads,
yellow wood and deep longings.
I know the bittersweet call
of tragedy and regret—
the burden of longing for
more of life—and the lovely
dance of stars begging a kiss.
I wonder what could have been
had we listened to the sun
singing brightly somewhere off
the curve of horizon, to
the moonless night sky’s bidding.
when the driftwood still dances
with rock and sand in a large
coffee table box kept as
a ballroom for such affairs,
I wonder what might have been.
--A Draft by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan
Don’t forget to let me know what you think in the comments below.
Share the love, write a poem, appreciate a good friend. Each moment is a new beginning.