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PAD Finish Line Reached
poem (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I reached the finish line today of this year’s annual Poem-A-Day Challenge, hosted by Robert Lee Brewer of Writer’s Digest’s Poetic Asides.
Three days spent out in the wilds of the north country near the Canadian border has advantages. The wilds had a cook shack with great food, live entertainment, plenty of friendly folk to keep a body moving and interacting, learning and taking away new experiences and perspectives. It also had nighttime freezing temps, daily sunshine, sprinkles when relaxation was needed, and a small-town parade with all the usual trimmings.
While out there on the high plateau, I kept thinking about poetry and what I’d take away from the Rendezvous that I could use later for either verse or prose. I’d met unique people with otherwise long-lost talents, children who could defend themselves without anger or cook over an open fire without complaint. I’d seen crafts that rivaled any in a museum anywhere. And best of all, I came home knowing that I will go back next year for a repeat.
The PAD challenge continued without me, but I’ve managed to put together something for each of the days missed. I hope you enjoy these small offerings and that you’ll continue to return to this blog after this challenge ends. I have a new, improved blog for the end of the week, with new pages to visit and things to see. Until then, daily posts will continue.
Now, on to poetry.
Day 27 Prompt: “The Trouble is (blank)” Fill in blank, make it the title, and write poem.
The Trouble is Time Bending
Arbitrary limits,
On something non-existent,
Takes no talent, no finess.
Limiting nothing takes
More than care,
Requiring belief
That increments from
One mind equal
Production possibilities.
How can seconds become
Minutes or hours, when
Only days/nights exist in time?
Does breathing count
As a measuring stick, or pulse,
When clocks don’t function?
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Day 28 Prompt: Write a problem poem.
What Price Time
Forcing life into minutes and hours,
Taking life from the living,
Becoming machines, wound up
For the pleasure of someone else.
Can we not function except to
Sweep hands and crystal faces?
Are we mindless with this labyrinth,
Marking existence with clicks and clangs?
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Day 29 Prompt: Take a favorite line from an earlier poem this month, and rework it into a new poem.
Prayers Danced in Circles
Call forth with drum and song
Answers from Creator’s hand.
Step lively in obedience,
Sing with heart’s voice to
Weave supplication upward
Toward Creator’s ear.
Circles with unending,
Beginning, revolving in circuit,
To define all life as one,
Connected and connecting.
Such is Earth, Water, Fire, and Air—
Each touching each, depending,
Giving, moving forward as willed,
Calling singers, dancers to moving circles,
Calling forth prayers to the heavens.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Day 30 Prompt: Write a take-away poem. Open interpretation.
Too Long, Too Short
Thirty days hath April,
Poems coming still,
A challenge for all.
Nothing too small
To contribute in word
Thoughts, noun or verb.
Is thirty days too long, too short,
For birthing poems for sport?
Should we make this habit,
A daily ritual, or run as rabbit?
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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Senedipity and Friends
Serendipity waves her wand across our lives on a regular basis, whether we realize it or not. I read Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides writing prompt this morning and thought, “Yep, I can do that one and had a title immediately.”
It wasn’t an original title; so few really are original. On fill-in-the-blank prompts, Muse either slips you filler quickly or not. I took an unconscious page from my old IBM days and did an “if, then else” statement in my head after I wrote the title. **For those unfamiliar with old programming code, an “if, then else” statement is one which is a prompt in itself. “If X happens, then what will happen next. If X does not happen, the what will happen next.”
For Robert’s Day 20 Prompt—Use “Let’s (blank)” as title. Fill-in the blank with word/phrase, use as title, and write the poem to it, my mind went to an old roommate back in the seventies and how things went from there. I called it–
Let’s Dance the Night Away
Two AM call caught us finally sitting,
A pair of disco addicts who came each night
To crowd a small floor, meet with friends
And laugh with others in new steps.
You faded from my life not long after,
A need that required distance to perform
Without recriminations or ever-afters,
A fact you could never appreciate.
Two to tango was never the real problem,
Though taking advantage was your forte,
For a con man needs only a woman’s faith,
Never was my enjoyment at issue.
Frankly I outgrew your need to mooch and moan;
Now my life and resources are my own.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Along the same lines but with different outcomes, just a couple of days ago, I reconnected with an old friend with whom I hadn’t talked since the mid-nineties. This was a person for whom I’ve searched for years with no success. He, too, had searched for me. Now that reconnection has ensued, life seems smoother than days before.
There’s so much to catch up on, so many personal travel logs to read. As I look toward this acquaintance process, I can’t help but look at this poem as a kind of letting-go of unfortunate experiences and a taking-up of those which uplift and secure.
Serendipity strikes again. Did she see it coming? Were the two events entwined on my star chart under a heading of “Let’s put things right”?
I hope you enjoy this day’s offering. Please leave a comment as you wish. Here’s hoping Serendipity waves her wand over you today.
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Food: Taking Poetry by the Throat
When Robert Lee Brewer handed out his challenge assignment this morning on Poetic Asides, I imagine his grin and his thoughts. “They’re gonna be all over this one. I can see it now.”
He was right, you know. We did stomp all over this prompt-of-the-day. Food is right up my alley, as my backside can attest. He wanted us to write about regional cuisine—either the food itself or some aspect pertaining to it. This was my response.
It sits, having conquered gravity
To reign over table and diners.
Six layers of diabetes, waiting
For consumption by the sliver.
Who’d’ve expected one pie
To feed twenty sugar addicts?
We wait, breathe held, for slicing
To begin so that we can let
Our portion melt, slither, find
Our centers to give that rush
To bodies needing Pilates more
Than three kinds of caramel in
Six stacked shells of doughy goodness.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Meanwhile, over at Poetic Bloomings. I found In-Form Poet proceedings for the day. Poet Jan Turner invented a new form not long ago, which puts limits on some areas of form, while leaving others untouched. It goes like this.
Write a Tri-Fall poem:
- Three stanzas of six lines each
- Rhyme scheme of a,b,c,a,b,c
- Syllable count for each stanza: 6-3-8-6-3-8
- No specific meter
- Little to no punctuation
- Any subject will do
Since I was already subject oriented from the Poetic Asides prompt, I stayed on the subject of regional food, parked myself at Granny’s table, and wrote about what had been placed before me. My goal was to write a story in this poem. I’m hoping to capture a memory. You’ll have to tell me if I succeeded in telling the story.
Table long, groaning now
under weight
of platters, dishes, and elbows.
Ham, chops, eggs galore vow
to stay late
just to erase dieter’s woes.
Clasping hands for prayer
waiting now
‘til men get theirs and kids do too.
Smells so good this home fare
“Where’s the cow?”
Utters late-comer with “moo.”
“Stayed outside,” replies Gran
“Sit and eat.”
all bowls cleaned, platters empty too.
Belt loose on a lone man
children sleep
in laps of soft-talking moms.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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Spin-Offs
The Grand Canyon is a steep-sided gorge carved by the Colorado River in the U.S. state of Arizona. It is largely contained within the Grand Canyon National Park ? one of the first national parks in the United States. President Theodore Roosevelt was a major proponent of preservation of the Grand Canyon area, and visited on numerous occasions to hunt and enjoy the scenery. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
When Robert Brewer posted his poem prompt for today, it led me on a short mental journey, as prompts are wont to do. His instructions read something like this. Day 12 Prompt: Take phrase “Something (blank), fill-in blank with another phrase or word, use as title, and write poem.
My mind is one, perhaps like yours, that will begin in Poughkeepsie, then hop the mental freeway, and before I know it, I’m looking down the throat of the Grand Canyon. That’s what happened this morning.
I saw the word “Something…” and immediately hit on the wedding tradition, “Something Borrowed.” That led me to things we’re likely to borrow from one another, returned and unreturned, cared for while in our possession or treated badly, with little or no respect for their value. That took me to some of the things that we worry about now.
And the following poem is the result of that mental drive I took in the 30 seconds or less from the time I saw the prompt.
Something Borrowed
Dawn brought its light,
Moon brought darkness,
We brought ourselves,
Grasping, clinging to life.
Our days began when
Dawn brought its light,
Showing us the work
Awaiting our hands, minds.
We rested at day’s end when
Moon brought darkness.
We labored throughout
An off-chance of success.
Time flowed as time does.
We brought ourselves
To this, our future,
Where alarms sound loud.
Our future now seems stark,
Grasping, clinging to life,
Watching our destruction
Return to show its legacy.
I hope you enjoyed today’s effort. Drop a comment here, if the spirit moved you. Come back later for the rest of Robert Brewer’s manic poetry gauntlet in a separate Poem Form Challenge.
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