Poetry Prompts

Where Do I Draw the Line?

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 3 Comments

I had intended to make this playful and fun, but a heaviness overtook me as I began to reflect.  Perhaps I’ll try the silly side of this another day.

That lying line,
that lion,
that roars and rumbles rudely.

Color inside it or outside,
where shall we draw it?

When does the sweet secret
turn sourly to self-deception,
the slow slide of truth
across that watery line to lie?

This, says the heart, is mine,
this private line,
this inner realm I rule.
It is my right.

Indeed.  And yet,
integrity bleeds outward
from secret worlds,
the safest closets
and deep-down caves.

When does my secret cease
to protect us in its quiet case?
When does it enter that twisted space,
the reflection that belies reality?

Oh, give the heart its privacy
within indigo shadows,
but don’t mistake reflection
for the truth.

 

Prompt

Tomorrow’s poem, courtesy of my friend Brad Lehman, is to write a poem of phone prompts.  (I think he originally suggested that I translate them into or out of Spanish.  Um.  No.)  Something about the experience (frustration?) of finding your way through phone recordings.  Join me?  Press one for the poem of the day.  Beep.

 

Gratitude List:

1.  Getting the white shower curtain white again
2.  Cantaloupe smoothies
3.  Folk tales
4.  Hands to hold in the darkness
5.  Beeswax crayons

May we walk in beauty.

2013 January 005

 

Blessing

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 1 Comment

May the bright breeze of morning rouse your heart to singing,
May the fire of the noonday warm your heart to hopefulness,
May the cooling rains of evening wash your heart to freshness,
May the enclosing arms of the earth hold you through the midnight.

Walk in paths of the winds that awaken,
Walk through the fires that burn off the scars,
Walk in the waters that cool and renew,
Stand with your feet firmly planted on earth

Until you hear the voice of the wind,
Until you breathe the essence of the fire,
Until you smell the message of the waters,
Until you feel the heartbeat of the earth,
Until you see the sun rise
within you,
within you.

Prompt for Monday:

Write a poem about a secret or a lie.  I might tell a lie about myself, or make up a secret, or tell a REAL secret, perhaps.  But you’ll never know, really, what the truth is, eh?  Care to join me?

Gratitude List:

1.  A gripping historical account of the assassination of President Lincoln told by my 12-year-old nephew.  And the way my brother explains the patterns of ancient human history.
2.  The brightness of the half-moon, and the stars, tonight.
3.  Reading Mara’s poetry–awash in the language, in the imagery, in the mystery.
4.  A cloud above the Susquehanna, shaped like an eagle with a fish in its talons.
5.  Noticing.

May we walk in Beauty!

Passel of kids

Sticky Situation

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 1 Comment

This is Saturday’s poem.  It is so easy for me sometimes to let myself feel caught or bound by the whims of fate, or by other people’s expectations.  I often forget the principle that when I feel stuck, it’s usually my doing.  Here’s a poem about that feeling.

The fingers, the wickets, the Bandaids, the rut,
Raspberry jam on a three-year-old’s face,
It’s where I am in the middle with you,
Between that rock and hard place.

I’m rubber, Baby, you’re glue.
You know what happens when that stuff
bounces off me toward you.

You have me cornered in this muddle, this muck,
Wheels spinning in the mud,
Won’t you get me unstuck?

 

Prompt for Sunday

I’m going to leave the prompt open-ended today and see what finds me.  Join me?

 

Gratitude List:
1.  Sparkly greens
2.  Kale burritos
3.  Hard questions to consider
4.  Always something more to learn
5.  That singing purr of a warm cat on my lap.

May we walk in beauty.

Pantoum, Revisited

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 3 Comments

Last night I  posted a fragment of a pantoum that I hoped to finish today.  Instead, when my head hit the pillow, a new idea began to form, and now I have other ideas.  I think it’s not too thunky for a first pantoum.  I want to work on more of them just for the fun of it, though this one is thematically perhaps not so fun.

There are so many things to write.
There is more than a chicken egg, speckled blue,
more than the way the flash of sun momentarily overcomes sight,
more than way I am always seeking a path to you.

There is more to write than an egg, speckled blue.
There is apathy, for instance, and betrayal, and war,
there is always the way that I am seeking that path to you,
but there are drones that spill death on a distant valley floor.

There is the way that apathy and betrayal lead to war,
there is the fact that we use religion to excuse our hate,
and those drones keep spilling death on a distant valley floor,
while we ignore our role in it, while we hesitate.

Religion is a poor excuse for permission to hate.
And sunny dogmas often obscure our sight.
Take responsibility for each other, don’t hesitate.
There is so much more to write.
Prompt for Saturday

Okay, Sandra Collin, here goes.  Write a poem about sticky words.  I love this and am nervous that I won’t be able to do it any justice.  Thanks for the prompt!
Gratitude List:

1.  Dancing in fairy dust at the shop
2.  Unpacking a box of incense.  I smell so good!
3.  Kitty cuddles
4.  Rose Quartz
5.  Chicken Soup with Rice–the food and the book.

May we walk in beauty.

Seeking Sleep–pantoum in progress

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

A long day at Lancaster Science Factory today.  It was perfect, and the boys loved it, but I did not have time to work on the pantoum, and I’m really too tired to write it tonight.  So far, this is what I have:

A flock of sixteen snow geese flew high
above the hollow into a dream
scudding like clouds across the sky

That’s it.  And I just can’t take it further tonight.  Hopefully I can work it out tomorrow.

Friday Prompt

Finish the pantoum.

Gratitude List:
1.  Family field trips
2.  Cheesesteaks
3.  Meeting an old friend
4.  Snow geese
5.  Moments of grace

May we walk in beauty.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Ways of Water

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Pick a card,
any card:
gratitude, joy,
compassion, hope,
love, peace of mind. . .

Give it to water,
let it be the stream
that cuts through the fields
in a lazy meander,
the rain falling hazy
in November,
even the ice
that encases the tiny fruits
on the ornamental pear
and drips into tiny spears
from the overhead wire.

Watch how it enters earth,
how it coats and covers
all it touches.

Steep yourself in it,
be infused,
soaked, swamped,
sprinkled and bathed
by the good that you call forth
upon yourself.

 

Thursday’s Prompt

Okay, Daryl Snider, tomorrow will be a pantoum.  Who will join me?
Click here for a good description of the form.  It looks like a good poetic form for meditating on slowing the pace.


Gratitude List:
1.  Discernment with the help of a friend
2.  Choosing to be who I am, choosing which labels I will accept and which I will reject.
3.  Turkeys
4.  There IS chocolate in the house!
5.  Play

May we walk in beauty.

 

2012 December 114

A Day in the Hollow

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Katharine’s prompt was to look East, North, West and South and work the first thing I see in each direction into a poem.  At East: the trees of Life and Death (a dead snag next to a living tree); at South, the neighbors’ silo; at West, the lamp post; at North, the rooster on the weather vane.

EAST
Morning will appear
between two trees on the ridge,
gateway between the worlds,
the dead and the living,
and the day born between them.

SOUTH
Blue silo rises
in the next valley over.
Mid-day sun will glint
from the shiny silver dome,
like code meant for the chickens.

WEST
Shadows climb the hill
As the sun tops the west ridge.
The lamp will wink on
and spread a puddle of light
into the misty evening.

NORTH
When the north wind blows
whistling into the hollow
the rooster screeches
from the iron weather vane.
Night settles over the fields.

 

Prompt

Tomorrow’s prompt is also from Katharine Jennings.  She suggested that tomorrow I take Ellis and Joss outside and ask what Ellis sees to the north, and what Joss sees to the south.  If you care to join me, you can find your own children or child-like spirit to fulfill the prompt, or I will try to remember to post my children’s observations in the morning, if you want theirs.

 

Gratitude List:

1.  Papaya with lime that takes me back to the shores of Lake Victoria
2.  Ellis’ utter delight at making an AM radio with his electricity set
3.  Praesiolite in the shape of a wing
4.  Boundaries
5.  Still so very much to learn

May we walk in beauty!

Lost and Found

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

There once was a woman
who entered the doorway
of middle age,
stood in the doorway
quite a while, observing,
as certain people always do
before they enter
a roomful of people.

She watched the groups
of eager party-goers
mingling and chatting,
observed those who
stood on the edges,
like her,
watching.

That first tentative step
into the room
is one of the hardest.
You leave a bit of yourself behind
when you walk in that doorway,
lose some thread of the story.
Turn and look back
through the open door,
and you can watch it
slipping away on the wind
like a strand of spider web.

She took that deep breath
everyone is always telling you to take,
picked up her courage
and walked right in,
a smile on her face.

It wasn’t until
she heard the door close
that a silver sparkle
caught the corner of her eye
and she saw that missing thread
twining and twisting
through the new air
for her to take up again.

 

Prompt

This one comes from my friend Katharine Jennings:  “On the morning of the 15th look west, south, east and north the first thing you see/feel in each direction incorporate into a poem.”  I can’t wait until morning!

 

Gratitude List:

1.  My “Little Room” that was stacked full of clutter has been cleaned and tidied and readied for use.  Good movement of energy once again.
2.  Four boxes/bags of fabrics and shoes and books and clutter are leaving the house.
3.  Growing older
4.  Shadows and reflections
5.  The webs that connect us all

May we walk in beauty.

Feed Me

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Poem about Nourishment, following Heidi Kindon’s prompt.  I feel like this is part of something I have been working to say for years, and it feels like it still needs a lot of finessing, but I am so grateful for the prompt that caused me to put it down:

Feed me.
Let me savor
the pith and the pulp
of a fresh garden tomato.

You can talk to me
about lycopene
and anti-oxidants,
about minerals
and vitamins,
and that will make me
giddy.

But the names
have their own kind
of nourishment:
Sungold
Cosmonaut Volkov
Brandywine
Early Girl
Cherokee Purple
Garden Peach
Indigo Rose
Green Zebra
San Marzano
Mr. Slabaugh
Goldie
Mountain Princess

Tiny little golden orbs,
bite-sized,
and great juicy giants,
crimson and scarlet,
buttery yellow
and deep midnight purple.

Talk to me about
the sun, how each tomato
is born of the light,
how the mother plant
spins those rays
and weaves them,
with raindrops
and the tiny crystals
that it draws from
the earth,
how it weaves them all together
into one magical bundle
to feed me.

 

Prompt for today (Monday):

I finished last night’s poem this morning, so the prompt is for today.  Stephanie White suggested the theme of Lost and Found.  What do you think?  Care to join me?  I am thinking of a couple of tankas or something similarly terse. . .  We’ll see where it goes.

 

Gratitude List:
1.  Rich conversations with friends: seeds and secrets, ancestors and our children.  All woven together.
2.  Two boys snuggling with each other on the recliner chair (30 seconds–I’ll take it)
3.  Rain and fog and mist
4.  Desire
5.  Rhythm

May we walk in beauty.

Wisdom from the Stone Mother, completed

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 2 Comments

This one is for Nicki Larue.  I found most of the first stanza in her words on Friday.  Oh my, I have just pooped out on this.  It’s a daunting task.  I think that I will write more of these, many more, but giving myself more than a day or two to finish. 

It’s all one big pool.
One fountain, one single source.
Only take what’s yours for today.
Connect yourself to Earth and Sky and spread your wings.
Listen through the words, for the word that gets overlooked;
that one word could hold the whole story.

You are the Teller of your own story.
Don’t be afraid to dive into the pool,
but remember not to leap before you’ve looked
and swim against the current, to your source
where you will rise from the waters, find your wings
and fly into the dawning of the day.

And it’s your new day,
each moment a new story,
the minutes winging
swiftly past, pooling
into hours, whirling into the source,
a mirror into which you look,

like an open book, you look
each blossoming day
into that source
for clues to your story,
you look into that pool
and see your reflection, with wings,

dusted with color, like butterfly wings
and you turn to look
behind you, to where a pool
of shadow heralds the ending of day,
closing another chapter in your history,
another truth drawn from your source.

Darkness descends, the source
of light extinguished, you fold your wings,
pause in the telling of the story,
listen for that one word which you have overlooked.
Watch how the night overcomes the day,
how darkness spreads outward like a pool.

Prompt

Heidi Kindon suggested a poem on Nourishment.  I love it.  It’s time to step out of the form a little while and hit up a theme.  Who will join me?

Gratitude List

1.  Seven happy hens
2.  A brown egg, a beige egg, and a double-yolked blue egg
3.  Homemade doughnuts for supper!
4.  Watching Here Comes Santa Claus with the family–my favorite Christmas movie.  Yes, and nearly a month late. . .
5.  Malachite

May we walk in beauty.