Moving On Cento

Poem a day #30 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “moving on ” poem and 2) write a cento, a poem puts together line from other poems to form a poem. Here is my source of moving on poems from famous poets.

From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done 

At break of day the College Portress came

This is the place. Stand still, my steed

The mist is resting on the hill

The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough

I remember, it was a morning, in summer

In this war we're always moving 

The Last Photo

Poem a day #29 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “last blank” poem and 2) write a poem that muses on both the gifts and curses you have received in your life.

Naked on the beach, we are three
tow-heads circling.
We group, we balance on a rock
strewn shore so still.

Touching squat toes, we test
the same waters
fill pink buckets with sand dollar 
shards gone still.

Taut bare backs against sun
we gaze up ambitious
for a turn to sip a red thermos
she lifts as if a still

to her lips with our small
mouths gaping. Dark
hair falling down her coffee
tanned face, skin still

smooth, still calm, she is the hinge
around which we pivot.
We are enthralled.  With young
legs sprawled on the still

green lawns of summer, she will
assemble all our collections
of sea shells and glass, make miniature
moss gardens go still.

The Sight of Height

New to the NYC Skyline

Poem a day #28 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write “sight” poem and 2) write a concrete poem is one in which the lines are shaped in a way that mimics the topic of the poem.

One
can’t
but
see
from
Central
Park
its new
neighbor
towering
above
it seems
so lonely
teetering
in wind
the sky
still blue
yet dark
clouds
hover
making
one
wonder
if here
close to
earth
is not
better
than
flying
close to
heaven.

Muffled Sounds

Poem a day #27 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write remix poem and 2) write a duplex, a variation on the sonnet, developed by the poet Jericho Brown.

I recall the Scream on the museum wall
it is restless as the day is long and dark

I’m restless so move along a darkened walk
inflated large and small, even worn as a mask

the smallest scream looms large behind the mask
I wear to hide the angry talk that could emerge

my voice often hides, lets angry sound emerge
only to take it back and stuff it down the drain

the drain takes me back stuffed with down
muffling words that grind the mill too loud

Loud mills can grind words and muffle thoughts
Is sending a print or post card ever enough?

Of course if posted such a card or print
I’d probably not picture such a scream.

Lost days of wondering

Poem a day #26 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write love or anti-love poem and 2) write a poem using a Homeric or extended simile.

I count our lost days
like pebbles that flow
in and out with the tide

or line some drive way
or carriage path. I pick one
up roll it in my palm

wondering if it’s best
to hold tight or cast
it back to earth or sea

maybe find a new route
one that takes me back
to where things started.

How do I respond

Poem a day #25 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “responsive” poem, and (2) write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live.

To that woman
sitting on her stoop
her face toothless

and small she smiles
shyly with lonely
eyes as I walk

She takes me in
as if longing
for a conversation.

Still I pass
let her sadness
fall in my path

accompany me home
for she is a ghost
of my mother

Ticking Time

Poem a day #24 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “superhero or supervillain” poem, and (2) write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile.

You arrive at my door
like a ticking time
bomb in a box

Super hero or villain
you rest clueless, a bird
on a fallen wire

a squirrel pacing a fence
while tramps rummage
through trash

I call this place
my home like a rat
snuggling the rafters

a burned down ruin
deaf, dumb and blind
to your charms

Just a Thought

Poem a day #23 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “conspiracy” poem, and (2) write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan, whose poems tend to be short and snappy.

Did you not
all conspire
to scare me
the new hire
well done
with care
in some
bad fashion
horrendous
sneers rationed
just enough
to let me know
how tough one
needs to be
to give more
than they get.

From Where We Came

Poem a day #22 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “organism” poem, and (2) write a poem that uses repetition.

We’d stroll about the gardens
for a brief moment, it seems
rows of sun dry flowers taking
us back from where we came

From we where came the sky
was not aways blue but city
lights kept us walking down
streets from where we came

pie-eyed children lined up
to create a single organism
long stemmed and prickly
back from where we came

our careful mothers carried
us but always at an arms
length as if to gently remind
us from where we came

Memory Sounds

Poem a day #21 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “sound” poem, and (2) write a poem in which you first recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with, then a job you used to have but no longer do, and then a piece of art that you saw once and that has stuck with you over time. Finally, close the poem with an unanswerable question.

I remember the sound
of your footsteps on the ceiling
above me as I waited
for your return to bed after hours
twiddling with contraptions
to make the world slow down

I wondered what happened
in the attic if your designs
were only in your head.
I thought I heard things
cranking there. Or may be
they were down on paper

sketched then copied
in blue as if to share
I made those prints
often in multiples
the whir and crank
of a gigantic machine

it spit out the smell
of ammonia, a stinging
scent saturating all
my clothes, memories
for years to come.
I recall the Scream

on the museum wall
also inflated to large
and small, even worn
as a mask. Is sending
a print or post
card ever enough?