every moment, consumed not by memories by each moment with you always on my mind always embraced
This poem, my first palinode, is in response to MTB: Palinode, the prompt from Grace at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. A palinode or palinody is an ode or song that recants or retracts a view or sentiment to which the poet wrote in a previous poem.
In this case, the original poem is the first poem I posted on WordPress, Grasping, as my first poem for National Poetry Writing Month, on 01 April 2014.
I cross this wide river every time I come to you. And again, when I leave. There is no other way,
~for distance holds no separation~
when I follow this course, past and present become one. I find consolation in that, every time I cross this bridge.
My first Puente, this poem is my response to Poetics: Build a Bridge, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. The first and third stanzas of a puente convey a different element or feeling, but they have an equal number of lines, with that number being the writer’s choice. The one-line middle stanza, set off with a tilde (~) at each end, is the puente (Spanish for bridge). It functions as the ending for the last line of the first stanza AND as the beginning for the first line of the third stanza. Rhyme is optional.
Since moving to Missouri, I’ve made the trip back to New York to visit family many times. Being retired, I pretty much have an open calendar. My wife does not, so many times I’ve driven the round-trip solo. Each time, I cross the Mississippi River. The Stan Span (Stan Musial Veterans Memorial Bridge), named after St. Louis Cardinal baseball great Stan Musial, is on Interstate 70, one of the routes out of St. Louis.
Listening to our shadow on a night picnic, being visited by words, I dress myself with raining moonbeams that bring me magic with dream sense. Giving them our real names, I sing to the stars of my love for you with controlled abandon. What’s my image? Poems and the body, think of them as being here as one, for poems are alive. These are the nights you love me most, full moon me, most mad and moonly.
This poem is my response to Day 18 at napowrimo.net, where the challenge is write a poem based on the title of one of the chapters from Susan G. Woolridge’s Poem crazy: Freeing Your Life with Words, from the book’s Table of Contents, found here. I’ve included fifteen of those phrases in my poem so it is nearly a cento. The chapter titles I have used are:
• poem sound and song • listening to our shadow • on a night picnic • being visited by words • I dress myself with rain • bring me magic • dream sense • our real names • controlled abandon • what’s my image • poems and the body • being here • poems are alive • full moon me • most mad and moonly
First light arrives with last, and I feel your pull as you near my horizon framed in dusk. Your bare presence brings the first sliver of satisfaction, delivered in a warm light that intensifies with each rising moment. I feel your full embrace in a moment of silver light that lasts through the night. But a night of moments is never enough, and your last light fades as first light arrives.
This poem is my response to Day 17 at napowrimo.net, where the challenge is to write a poem about, or involving, the moon.
Emptiness for nearly sixty years. Never knowing why. Doctors thought they had the answer last year, when they found a hole in my heart. But that emptiness was filled ten years ago, when you came into my life.
This poem is my response to MTB: The Body and Poetry, the prompt from Grace at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write a poem using a part of the body as a metaphor.
Early last year, I was diagnosed with a Patent Foramen Ovale (PFO), or whole in my heart – the possible cause for a TIA I experienced in late 2019 (with no more occurrences). It’s a congenital condition, and the doctors have decided to monitor the situation, rather than performing surgery at my age. On the plus side for my heart, I met my wife ten years ago.
Images Wikimedia Commons – Rosette Nebula surrounding star cluster NGC2244 Astronomy Picture of the Day – “cluster galaxies and cluster dark matter, analogous to the many points of light one would see while looking through a wine glass at a street light”
There is logic in that progression. There to here, a direct route.
But it was not logic that drove me. It was love that brought me down those roads. Logic would have asked, “Why?”
Leave behind all I’d come to know in my life? But what would life be without you? And so, I chose this road rather than a life of regret. I chose you, and that made all the difference.
This poem is my response to Day Two at napowrimo.net, where the prompt, inspired by the Robert Frost poem “The Road Not Taken,” is to “write a poem about your own road not taken – about a choice of yours that has ‘made all the difference’ and what might have happened had you made a different choice.” In 2012, I followed my heart and moved from New York to Missouri.
Wrinkled, tossed, unused, this heart had grown a stranger to affection until your heart took it for a spin, rinsed away any trace of despair, and broke the cycle that held it captive with a love that is permanent, pressed into the pages of both my heart and mind.
This poem is my response to Poetics: Put Your Words on Spin Cycle, the prompt from De Jackson at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write a laundry poem. She offered the option to use a list of laundry words and to include three or more words or phrases from the list.
A Sedoka is an unrhymed poem composed of two katauta. A katauta is able to stand alone, with three lines and a syllable pattern of 5-7-7. A Sedoka therefore has the syllable count: 5-7-7, 5-7-7. Each katauta must be able to be read independently, but also create a cohesive singular work in the Sedoka.
sun and moon in an embrace
from horizon to horizon
proximity a measure of
darkness and light
the mere sight of one by the other
a shared light, free of shadow
I found this poem in my “Unfinished” folder, in four drafts dating from June 2020 through August 2020. I’m sure it was inspired by something I read on WordPress, but I just can’t place it. I think it makes a good counterpoint to yesterday’s poem.