Progressive Poem

WHAT IS POETRY?
 
The smell of ink is intoxicating to me--others may have wine, but I have poetry. --Terri Guillemets

  It is finding the truth, no need to lie.
  It's munching on watermelon and letting seeds fly.
 
  It's a letter that comes with a card in the mail.
  It's the lacy silver threads left by a garden snail. 
 
  It's daffodil trumpets covering the hill.
  It's a deer at the creek, drinking her fill.
 
  It's giggling and laughing and being absurd.
  It's reading a haiku and feeling each word. 

  It's a dragon who blows flames, loud and hardy.
  It's fairies in the garden having a tea party.
 
  It's the sound of a truck shifting its gears.
  It's the feel of two soft puppy ears.

  It's a bright sun rise and glowing moon shine.
  It's a Carolina wren singing in a Lob-lolly pine.


     Happy Thursday.  My children's poetry critique group meets today and I'm anxious to see what suggestions they have for the piece I submitted.  I feel so fortunate to have a group of friends who look at my poetry and offer suggestions for making it better.  

   For your challenge today, can you write a haiku? 

women having tea
being noisy, talk, gossip
create new kanji


   When I was in Japan, I learned the symbol for a woman.  It looked like a triangle.  Then I was shown another symbol for the word gossip.  I was told it was fairly modern.  The symbol was three triangles, or what happens when you get three women together.  The name for the symbol alphabet used in Japan is kanji.

     Have fun writing.

   

SOON, SPRING

   This is for all my friends east of the Rockies, who got hit with more snow last week.

SOON SPRING

Walking the gravel drive
to get the morning paper,
it's the first time
I haven't needed a jacket.

I hear the birds trilling, tweet.
Robin, jay, mocker, chickadee.
The high pitched tea tweet tee
of a Carolina wren.

Then the cardinal's song.
Even the low pitched curdle
of a common crow
makes me smile.

I look up in the bare trees
searching for signs of the birds.
Somehow the trees seem taller.
I see small tight fists

Of nubs growing on the branches
like prayers, soon to be released into the air.
I breathe deeply to smell.
My mouth waters for the taste of it.

It feels good to be here on the lip
of spring.  The kiss of it.
It feels good to just be.
This promise--soon.

     The weatherman is predicting 91 degree weather in Tucson for Thursday and Friday.  Everyone is getting out their shorts.  Your challenge today is to write a poem about the weather where you live.  Have fun. 

Little Bird

A little bird

sits at my feeder

singing to me.

I smile and think

he is smiling

at me.

I smile, he smiles.

He sings

and I sing too

It seems to me

a happy 

thing to do

What a wonderful

way to spend

our day.

    The Carolina Wren makes a call that sound like tea kettle, tea kettle.  The barred owl calls Who cooks for you?  Who cooks for you?  Today listen to the songs of birds.  Aren't they magical?  Can you write a poem today about bird songs?  Please share your creation.

   Can you see the ghost of a bigger bird looking out for my little sketch?