After Lucille Clifton’s blessing the boats.
curse the rising floodwaters
leaving us bereft
on the rocky shores of grief without a raft
dragging us down
below the murky depths of memory
curse its laughter and gurgle
that stifling heat of scorn then embrace it
know that the uncertainty
won’t ever have your back so curse it too
and remember to keep your mouth shut
the sun burning incandescent too is cruel
and so curse it for the dark knowledge it harbors
as you founder in the quicksand
curse the rising floodwaters
leaving us bereft
on the rocky shores of grief without a raft
dragging us down
below the murky depths of memory
curse its laughter and gurgle
that stifling heat of scorn then embrace it
know that the uncertainty
won’t ever have your back so curse it too
and remember to keep your mouth shut
the sun burning incandescent too is cruel
and so curse it for the dark knowledge it harbors
as you founder in the quicksand
seeking solace on an ephemeral shore
4/3/23
NaPoWriMo pick a poem, any poem, change the words to their opposite meaning. Revise.
2023 April PAD Challenge write a connection poem (I accidentally used the wrong prompt for this one, so this is a placeholder.
4/3/23
NaPoWriMo pick a poem, any poem, change the words to their opposite meaning. Revise.
2023 April PAD Challenge write a connection poem (I accidentally used the wrong prompt for this one, so this is a placeholder.
Obscure facts
Someone said to write about an obscure fact, something that no one else would know about. I couldn’t think of anything. And I thought of how stop lights are not green, but turquoise, reminding us of tropical seas and of our own origins.
After the rain, the drowned wildflowers can’t poke their head above the sludge. After the floodwaters have dropped a foot at a time, the meadows carry a permanent high tide line.
I can’t get over that image of the Tibetan woman with her trio of marmots begging for food like small children. Since winter lives year round in Tibet, I think of those marmots begging at the hem of her skirts hoping for the arrival of spring. Does she sing to them? Her marmot children?
I can’t get over that image of the Tibetan woman with her trio of marmots begging for food like small children. Since winter lives year round in Tibet, I think of those marmots begging at the hem of her skirts hoping for the arrival of spring. Does she sing to them? Her marmot children?
4/3/23
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