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It doesn’t seem possible that the end of National Poetry Month is here already. It began with a poem about the Eve of April so it seems right to end on a similar note. From Maureen at NaPoWriMo.net:
Today’s prompt asks you to write a poem incorporating at least three “I remember” statements. This invocation of memory seems a fitting way to end our month together.
The eve of May Day
I remember the flowers, the singing
the warmth of the full sun at the horizon
after the coldness of the dark before
I remember how we stamped our feet
and tucked our mittens under our arms
while cold fingers adjusted the garlands.
I remember how the night before May Day
brought dreams of spring rushing to me
waking me up again and again
and leaving me breathless.
In truth the sun brought spring
a month and days ago
that vernal date too soon
to be more than a promissory note
that winter would end someday
and summer would come too
but not before messing with us
a few weeks more
not until we relax into it
instead of needing it.
I remember a long roll of years of course
but not as you’d recall them one by one
with stops to see the sparks flying upward
from this one summer’s bonfire
or the still woods of that November winter
and the first snow there.
I remember most that recognition
oh, yes, that’s how the bright sparks fly
twisting and disappearing into the night
joining the stars in the black sky.
I remember the frost thickly etched
on the window to tell of cold’s visit
and the frozen grass which kept our footprints
while the sun tried to wash them away.
I remember when she vanished for that long night
how we stood watch to call her back
and heard the first flakes fly past
and sizzle on the ground.
Having kept that watch for more times
than I care to tally up with you
the sparks aren’t this year’s or last’s,
the crunch of the grass wasn’t that one year,
that snow, not one sound but a chord of many.
So today’s the last day of National Poetry Month and National Poetry Writing Month and well, you’ve probably been wondering who pre-empted your normally programmed quiltr.com blog.
It’s been a fun month and fairly productive and now I’m ready to be more unfocussed over a bigger range of subjects rather than just writing. I did manage to keep up with a poem a day posted here (39 total as of last night) and my incredibly silly side project (that which makes me laugh at the ridiculousness of it all) and last night the count for miscellaneous haiku was a 63.
I did also ponder my next quilting project and am ready to start piecing that after quite awhile of wondering how to get it done.
So standby for a bit more poetry and then May Day and then…
I had to make a poster telling about a customer I met today and I ended it with a haiku summarizing the whole thing with my month’s tradition of hashmarks: #haiku, #NaPoWriMo and all. This no doubt will please some, confuse some and befuddle others and ain’t that just the goal of the month? Works for me!
Not the double dactyl that NaPoWriMo.net suggested but here you go, Day 29. The linked poet’s blog, Peter Roberts, I remember from last year. His #29 was just spot on and I especially appreciate his keeping with a theme all this time.
For you a month
of dancing with words
is both long and short
a gavotte of rhyme and meter
meaning and theme
rising and skipping
from line to line
You write them on the page
or place them on a screen
and look and re-write
and look and re-type
and hope someone will read them
someone will find them
You learn some poems by heart
reciting in the quiet
drawing the words and meaning close.
Our songs we write together
I tell a verse and all repeat
we say it all together
when we’re ready we go on
with the next stanza
drawing on the story
spinning out the hymn
waves from mouth to ear
and stringing us all together
on an endless horizon
of song and memory.
We still remember, here
in the starlight, on the seas
We sing of time pouring forth
our tales and yours.
Not sure if I managed to create a sense of space, per NaPoWriMo’s suggestion, but that’s all right. Haven’t you had that sense, in waking up that you’re not sure if you’ve opened your eyes yet?
At night, if I wake,
the room is black
the walls fall away.
For a moment
I cannot tell
if I have opened my eyes
or if I sleep still.
Towards my feet
a cat snuffles
and from the window
a bird sings to
the moon’s sinking sliver
a short song
and then returns
to his own dream.
The night is so large
the darkness expanding
and wrapping around
each nearby house:
how will we find our way
back to daylight
except through dreams.
Every night there’s a few left over haiku, palate cleansers I guess. Now it’s time to go read a bit before sleep. Early day tomorrow.
The first haiku is a question I was asked at work today by a woman who basically knew little about computers but had some strong opinions about what she wanted to learn about them (here’s a metaphysical question for you – should a log in ID really be any different than a password? Aren’t they really all the same thing?)
The second is my later response to the question. I replied that I was both and was told emphatically that this wasn’t possible because SHE was an artist and SHE didn’t know ANYthing about computers. I felt myself straightening up a bit and I seriously said “computers are just another tool to use. Like anything else you learn how to use, to do the things you want to do.”
I was asked today
Are you a Geek or artist?
By one who’s neither
Oh no I’m both and
The Queen of All My Domains.
Everything’s a tool.
(I really wanted this last line to be Code is Poetry apologies to WordPress)
When April’s over
poets don’t fade into May
they just take a nap.
the parents see it shining
in all their children.
the way of life eternal
the cycle of life.
believe in the good
it doesn’t really matter
what you may call it
if you look for gnomes
they may be hidden from sight
or out in plain view
Leaf for umbrella
garden fairy waits for rain
to pass over us.
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