Wittiness is his forte
Always a surprise ending
And what he had meant to say
Not always what he’s thinking
Of the sonnet he is king
I wish I could write as he
Does with poetry that rings
One liners that sting like a bee
Spying his link in Mr. Linky
I must go see what he’s shared
So much more fun than a slinky
What serious subject he’s dared
To joke about today
In a most unexpected way
Yesterday’s prompt at dVerse Poets Pub was to pick a favorite dVerse community poet (or other poet, but I stuck with dVerse folks) and write a poem about them or as a tribute to how you appreciate their writing. The only rule is not to mention the poet, so I haven’t.
I love to spend time with my friends
We chat, catch up, and share it all
Pick each other up when we fall
I hope our friendship never ends
For hard feelings we’ll make amends
We’ll laugh out loud, or we might cry
You’ll never know the reasons why
Our deep connection, our long bond
Keeps us close today and beyond
It’s see you later, not goodbye
I’m spending the weekend with two college roommates, dear friends I’ve known for 32 years, and so I wrote this poem a day ahead in honor of our friendship and time together. And of course, I had to write a third décima because they are just too much fun.
One day this earth will pass away
But until then it’s ours to care
For this gift of God if we dare
We don’t know when will be the day
Because God’s Word does not say
And so the prudent thing to do
Greedy destruction all eschew
Plant and grow flowers, shrubs, and trees
Keep our garbage out of the seas
For humankind, for me, for you
Had to write another décima for dVerse Poets Pub, but this time following the NaPoWriMo prompt for Earth Day.
My road began bright and cheery
Birds sang sweet, lovely flowers bloomed
It would always be I assumed
Then it became dark and dreary
With each step I grew more weary
When I tried to walk all alone
Plagued by despair of being known
Oh grace, you called me back to you
Once again the skies are deep blue
Seeds of hope and forgiveness sown
Today’s poem is a décima for dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar today. (I cheated and went to Bjorn’s blog to see what the prompt was going to be before it is live at dVerse in my time zone). I’ll be linking at dVerse at noon PST. Head over there this afternoon to see what other décimas the pub folks have to offer.
This is also my Day 21 post for NaPoWriMo.
My story is not unique
but it’s uniquely mine
My experience is universal
yet my own
People say, “me, too!”
But how can they know
They weren’t there
My pain is not theirs
What others have been through
mirrors my ordeals
with a twist
For the Quadrille prompt at dVerse Poets Pub today Grace wants us to use the word “twist” in a quadrille of exactly 44 words, no more, no less. I wrote all but the last stanza of this last night with the hopes I could work in the given word and make it a quadrille. Head on over the dVerse and check out some of the other twisted quadrilles the pub patrons have to offer today.
Filed under Faith, Life, Poetry
Yesterday, Toni at Kanzen Sakura commented thanking me for writing two haibuns. I replied that I’d only written one. Apparently that’s because the second one was still in the works. So I’m posting this second haibun now for Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.
Working on my memoir, giving in to the compulsion to communicate my story to whoever might need to read it, I decided I would have more success in actually getting the words on the page if I hand wrote. There is something about typing that makes me feel like it has to be perfect the first time, but handwriting builds in an automatic rewrite when I later type it up. So I rummage through my cloth basket of blank journals for just the right one. [This takes some time because there are probably 20 or more journals in that basket, evidence of another compulsion]. I find a 150-page spiral bound notebook with only 10 pages used up and decide that’s perfect. I peruse what’s been written and come across these words, written 18 ½ years ago:
It takes courage to write. Courage is not the same as fearlessness. Rather, courage is writing in spite of fear.
Just been reading “The Courage to Write” by Ralph Keyes. It got me thinking about writing a book about the effect being raped at the age of 14, while still a virgin, had on my life—the teen years, college, marriage, sex, life, thoughts, depression [although genetics had something to do with this as well].
I must be crazy. I can’t write such a book. Or rather I can, in that I’m sure I have enough material and could actually write it, but would I ever be willing to let anyone read it?
Crazy indeed. Yet here I am, almost two decades later, still compelled to write that book. Only now the story is complete. There is more than just the pain and suffering of trauma to tell; there is also the story of healing and redemption. Now there is courage.
Hidden on journal pages
Die and are reborn
For Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub we’re writing about communication. I decided to write about the frustration of communicating in a particular circumstance.
People who have never experienced chronic pain don’t seem to understand why sometimes I just can’t do certain things. I know I look fine from the outside. I know I hide it pretty well most of the time. But it’s exhausting to try to live as if I had no pain. It’s difficult to know how to communicate the struggle. If I told you I was in pain every time I was in pain, you’d think I was a whiner or a broken record. So I don’t tell you, unless it’s really bad.
“What’s your pain number today?” I hate this question. I never know how to answer it. Ever. And how does what’s a 6 to me (based on 10 being the worst pain I’ve ever experienced) really communicate to a doctor how much pain I’m in? I want to answer, “Whatever number will cause you to do something to make it go away!” Because although today’s pain may not be the worst I’ve ever experienced, it’s bad enough that it brought me into this terrible, sterile, time-wasting environment in the hopes that you could help me.
“Describe your pain. Is it burning, stabbing, aching, sharp, or dull?” “Umm, yes. Can you make it go away now?”
Jesus knows my pain
Will wipe away ev’ry tear
When the Son shines bright
The dogwood’s in bloom,
the lilacs waft their intoxicating scent,
the pink azalea brightens the yard
Requiring more cultivation,
the lantana spreads it’s tiny flowers,
the snapdragons roar, and million bells ring
. . . oh the loveliness of spring
It’s such a beautiful sunny day here in Oregon, I decided to write a second poem combining the Sevenling prompt from dVerse Poets Pub yesterday with the flower prompt from NaPoWriMo this morning.
My façade hides
pain in my body,
in my heart, in my soul
I smile broadly,
laugh out loud,
resort to sarcastic wit
. . . but sometimes I cry
The Meeting the Bar prompt at dVerse Poets Pub yesterday was to write a Sevenling. Since I wanted to write a Tritina yesterday I decided to save this Sevenling for today’s daily NaPoWriMo post.
January is the cruelest month
despite it’s shimmer of hope
It’s when cancer took you
I was twenty-three
Hadn’t yet made amends
for the pain I caused you
Still drowning in my own
Your death only added
to the shame
of not measuring up
This quadrille is doing double duty today. It includes the dVerse Poets Pub word prompt from Victoria and offers my thoughts on the cruelest month for the NaPoWriMo prompt.