NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 5 – Morning

For Day 5 of National Poetry Writing Month, the prompt is to write something aligned with “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” originally developed by Jim Simmerman. Here goes (very loosely interpreted):

The sun parts
the curtain of the night
its light like a knife
cutting through the crust
of bleary eyes.

In its wake comes
the sound of birds waking –
a mellifluous melody
and tribute to the
muscle memory of
the cycle of life
and time.

A reminder that
as day follows night
you’ll get through.

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 3: Live Anyway..

For Day 3 of National Poetry Writing Month. Today’s prompt is to make a list of ten words, and use Rhymezone to build a bank of words for use in a poem.. Here goes.

Without a care
the sparrow flits
between the trees
oblivious of the need
to fret for bread
or bed but returns
each day to its nest,
its place of rest
from the coming
and the going –
from first light
to the gloaming –
and the cycling
of the seasons
as they decay;
birth and death,
being and becoming.

The heart bears
the weight of anxiety,
the pressure
of the need
to sate the thirsts
of the body
and the soul
for touch
and for knowing
and the gnawing pain
of failing and falling
and doubting.

In the end
we trade the caul
first for a shawl
and then the shroud
of dissolution.
So live anyway.

NaPoWriMo2020 – Day 2: Place

Place, for NaPoWriMo2020 Day 2, the prompt being to write a poem about a place. My old house on the corner of 3rd and 39th with its stubborn grass and red earth came to mind. I miss it! 

I carry your memories in my heart,
the bright tint of your red earth
whipped to fine dust
by the Harmattan wind,
the whistle of your tall pines,
the smell of your freshly cut grass
in the aftermath of mowing.
I remember the sound of cocks crowing
the call of the muezzin, piercing
the morning air like a knife
and cherish the memories
of small things, of peace,
of beauty and of simple days.

NaPoWriMo2020 – Day 1: Peeling

And so in the midst of all that’s broken in the world, its Day One of National Poetry Writing Month for 2020. Today’s prompt is to write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life. My choice is life as peeling onions.

When it all
falls apart,
like a ball
of yarn
slowly unravelling,
the wind whispers
in my ear: this is
how life is,
an onion, complex
in its layers
each hiding and
being hidden,
drawing tears
as its juices
released in
a flash rise.
In the stinging
we remember
the promise
of savoury things
where in the present
bland things lie.

17. A Prayer for A Season of Overwhelm

Photo by Dylan Sauerwein on Unsplash

For the Week 2, Friday’s #LiveLent Devotional, particularly apt given the state of play of the coronavirus pandemic.

Worn and weary
from the tears
of fitful crying
I find myself
stretched straining
like a string
to hold together;
one hand sinking
into a slushy earth
and the other
tottering like a tree
listing in a storm.
As these waters
reach my neck
as breath begins
to slip and my body
begins to yield
to these dark depths
Abba be a rock
be a shelter
from the storm
be my anchor.

15. Baptism

Photo by kaleb tapp on Unsplash

Today’s CoE #LiveLent Devotional invites us to reflect on baptism, and how it is a symbol of our death and resurrection with Christ. Here goes:

I come
to this water,
let me go
beneath its flood
and die, and then
arise reborn,
raised to freedom
and new desires.
Let me sense
your welcome,
your voice
speaking once
but echoing
across the hills
and the valleys
telling me, welcome
lost son, my prodigal

12. Water

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

For Day 10 of the CoE #Livelent Devotional, the focus being the second day of creation with water being brought forth…

First comes light,
making lost things
found, dark places
bright and clear
and beautiful again,
and then comes water
to wash and clean
and bring life
to all the dead
and dying things.
May the dark places
of our hearts be lit
and whole again
and our hands clean.

10. Light…

Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash

For Day Nine, the invitation is to reflect on light and heat and the benefits access to electricity brings to people around the world. That immediately brought to mind the Parable of the Lost Coin, and how for all the sweeping and cleaning, the lost coin is found because of the illumination light brings. Here goes then:

You realise
that light is good
when the thing you lost
is found, wedged between
the corner of your bed
and the cold wall,
that tiny space
worn beige by
the tyranny of time.
When in the shiver
of a winter night
you wrap your hands around
a cup of warm tea,
its chipped edge and faded art
a reminder of all its seasons of use,
you realise that light is good,
and the darkness all around fades.