Primal Senses (#26 NaPoWriMo Prompt)

Moose Backyard 26 Apr 2018
Metallic on the tongue, first.
Instinct made moment.
Then movement.
Primal senses snap into focus.
Out there,
He steps over a fold in time,
Brush a lost crackle under
Deafening dog din.
He is
Wild and nature and the
World.
I capture him.
Cool plastic in my hands, me
Breathing in earth and growth and
New beginnings
From my back porch perch.
Snap as he snorts.
He is mine now, forever,
As he trots into the trees.

NaPoWriMo
And now for our prompt (optional as always). Taking our cue from today’s craft resource, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses. Try to be as concrete and exact as possible with the “feel” of what the poem invites the reader to see, smell, touch, taste and hear.

Objects are Nearer (#25 NaPoWriMo Prompt)

rearview-mirror.jpg

Objects in the rear view mirror
Are closer than they appear.
With your “narrative distance”
Your “Persona”

Be warned. You know not what you seek.

The past is candy coated
By the film of rain and road grime
Fuzzy approximations and far.
Now you stepping out to view it first hand.

Be careful what you wish for. It’s waiting there.

NaPoWriMo
And now for our daily prompt (optional, as always). Today, we challenge you to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself! (Mine definitely includes the statement: “Do Not Feed More Than Four Cookies Per Hour.”

Seattle Dog: A Eulogy (#24 NaPoWriMo Prompt)

Baby Seattle Toy

Today you were there, just a glimpse.
The humanness in Matilda’s eyes,
The pause in Drover’s step at my command,
Reminded me. And I missed you.

M&D

Your little six-month paws at
Double-time to keep up for our slow jog.
Your tilted head when I left.
Your 9-month-year-old joy at my return.

Baby Seattle Dog crop

You were my relentless alarm clock of love.
My focus and my feeling.
You flew in the cargo hold to new lands.
Scaled castles near Incirlik Air Base, Turkey.

Seattle Castles

You jogged with me
In Korea and Colorado,
In Turkey and on Turkey Trots
In Washington State and Washington D.C.

Seattle Gila Wilderness

You were there in my first year of the military
And in my fifteenth.
You watched me leave on each deployment.
You were the best part about coming home.

Seattle Dog

When the vet said “cancer,”
And the x-ray was dotted like pox.
You slept at my feet as I wrote my last dissertation chapter.
I guess I could only cry so much.

Hol Seattle and Me

You missed the conclusion.
Yours was at our dining room table.
The needle slipped in. Your feet
Paddled furiously, then infinite stillness.

Every morning a habitual side-step
To miss your sleeping form
Until we moved to a new house.
You, ashes in a wooden box.

Seattle Snow

Nearly a decade now, and there are two more
Kur-aaaay-zee blue heelers.
I know you would set them straight.
Remind them of the rules.

Matilda and Snowman

I wish you could meet Matilda,
She shares your intensity.
I wish you could meet Drover,
He tries his hardest to be a good dog too.

Drover and his monkey.jpg

I wish you could swim these mountain lakes,
Run the forested trails,
Bark at elk and deer and chipmunks,
Sleep pressed against me.

Seattle Regal

NaPoWriMo

The NaPoWriMo prompt for today was to write a positive eulogy. I don’t know if it’s “cheating,” but this spontaneous eulogy for Seattle Dog that I wrote in November fits the prompt and still moves me…

(And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today, we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy – a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it. Need inspiration? You might look at W.H. Auden’s elegy for Yeats, which ends on a note suggesting that the great poet’s work will live on, inspiring others in years to come. Or perhaps this elegy by Mary Jo Bang, where the sadness is shot through with a sense of forgiveness on both sides.)

The Only Thing Missing is You (#23 NaNoWriMoPrompt)

IMG_20180419_074213.jpg

Howl’s and whines, this morning was like every other morning since you’ve been gone. I swear I can hear Tater kitty’s lungs fill before that first “yowl” announcing the approach of 6 a.m. He should be an employee for the Naval Observatory, ensuring the master clock is on time. Maybe it’s Matilda and Dover, blue heeler heightened senses, who realize it. That intake of air and they start to wiggle. I don’t open my eyes. I know they sense the change in my heartbeat and respiration, but I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if I’m going to let that cat tell me when to get up.

I get up.

A thundering herd of paws and tails down the gapped, wooden steps to the stone-floored kitchen. You know the routine.  The only thing missing is you.

NaPoWriMo
(NaPoWriMo Prompt: And now for today’s (optional) prompt! Kate Greenstreet’s poetry is spare, but gives a very palpable sense of being spoken aloud – it reads like spoken language sounds. In our interview with her, she underscores this, stating that “when you hear it, you write it down.” Today, we challenge you to honor this idea with a poem based in sound. The poem, for example, could incorporate overheard language. Perhaps it could incorporate a song lyric in some way, or language from something often heard spoken aloud (a prayer, a pledge, the Girl Scout motto). Or you could use a regional or local phrase from your hometown that you don’t hear elsewhere, e.g. “that boy won’t amount to a pinch.”)