Because the April showers of NaPoWriMo is almost over but not quite, we are heading into a maelstrom of words. My poetry group is raining verse and I am trying to keep up with the deluge (while adding a few of my own).
Here’s what’s been up in my head. First up, a poem using today’s Napowrimo prompt of using the first line of another poem
April 25 Part 2
when the sky bleats white sheep
clouds jumping over the moon
the tulips clamber
over the daffodils for a better view.
the minor bulbs
trill like piccolos
thrilling the ground with
a thousand blue pitches
conversing with birds
with the squirrels
for newly planted grass
the ever greening
that needs neither help
nor human heart,
to make it bloom.
Then two in “the body series” — a very different take.
April 23 The body series 2
Her body is betraying her
bowels loosening threatens her dignity.
Her legs give out
knees buckle with impunity.
She twists and shifts in some strange burlesque
to find comfort in these irregularities.
Toes that fail to grip,
(a) stomach that takes inventory
of every bit and bite.
Her puny body quakes perpetually,
stuck in this place of decline,
April 22, Checking in (the body series 1)
My dogs are howling (you’d snarl if were
mistreated by the pavement everyday) so
don’t get me started about my barking shins.
My knees are growling at me today
while the hips, the hips do a quiet little twist
snap, crackle pop ending with a hiss
when I stand up.
Have I talked about my shoulders?
groaning in their sockets, well, the left one mostly
the right is strangely silent,
compensated by that elbow rumbling a little thunder
I can feel it about to rain.
Wrists, check, can go about their business
but the knuckles ache for a good cracking,
if only that would quicken my fingers
that stiffen in a fighter’s curl
hoping to hurl a chop.
I plan to be back soon, with poems and a bit of found fashion.