Prompt #06: Flora
Today’s prompt is from poet Bill Noble:
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Scrolling down from the top of this page you’ll find a display of the astonishing variety of one species of spring-blooming iris in the wild lands around my home, Iris douglasii. The prompt? Spring. The general exuberance and complexity of life. Any or all of the erotic associations blooms have (the fleur-de-lis is supposed to be not just an iris but stylized male genitals). Or none of the above.
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Reminders for Participants: You can post your poem below in the comments, offer a link back to your site where the poem is posted, or comment about the experience of writing the poem (without actually posting the poem). If you’re going to comment on other participant’s poems, please remember that this is not a critique space — comments should be kept thoughtful and supportive. Lastly, remember you don’t have to use the prompt to write your poem — they’re here for your inspiration but they’re certainly not a requirement.
Let the Wild Poeming Being!
Beautiful photographs, Bill!
Iris
Hold out your hands.
Yes, like that.
I would like to place there, in the cup
of your patience, this
exotic, tender-skinned, blue
veined gift.
See how it curls against
the heat of your palm? Feel
how it shivers
reaches
to all six points of the compass.
How delicate
fireworks in daylight,
how slight
my desire to reach you
as scent.
April 6, 2011 at 2:20 am
Nikki – you triggered an instant whole-body reaction with that one! Delicious.
How would you feel about my adding it to my iris page?
April 6, 2011 at 5:58 am
Nikki – OMG brilliant!
April 6, 2011 at 6:44 am
Beautiful
April 6, 2011 at 8:49 am
whew took my breath away.
April 6, 2011 at 4:01 pm
Another short one today and nothing to do with the prompt. You may need to know more than you want about physics for this one
http://wp.me/pbg4K-33
April 6, 2011 at 2:59 am
Just modified.
April 6, 2011 at 5:16 am
And again. Must stop this
April 6, 2011 at 5:26 am
Almost
The lesson of unfoldings is the spell of anticipation
Constructed or found
Opening or rising
It is the unreckoned pause
That locks your eye
Tunnels your vision
Collapses time
Sends away walls
Until your only thoughts are continue and remember
April 6, 2011 at 6:03 am
Day late, dollar short (two days late, but wotthehell).
WHY I LOOK LIKE THIS ON MONDAY
You tug me out of my torpor
with squeezes, Sleepy Slug;
roll the flat of your hand
as far as Overcooked Sausage;
fingerdiddle to Lank Banana;
ring-wring what I’m hoping
you see as Full Magnificence.
It’s okay, you whisper,
already decided on everything:
You can sleep in tomorrow.
April 6, 2011 at 6:03 am
I love this prompt and I wanted to use it, but I was so inspired by something my yoga teacher said yesterday that I had to do today’s poem about that. So maybe I will do today’s prompt tomorrow.
http://dorlamoorehouse.com/2011/04/06/napowrimo-day-6-4/
April 6, 2011 at 6:21 am
I’d be delighted if you’d like to use the poem, Bill. Thanks!
April 6, 2011 at 6:39 am
Once again – no prompt – here’s today’s pathetic attempt.
http://mizadventurez.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-six.html
They’re following a theme for the most part, but I can’t choose when the muse strikes.
April 6, 2011 at 6:44 am
Serene window view of wild
of meadow, river, road.
Hummer zips and dips at feeder
to be filled,
roses wait for planting, collards acknowledge
peas already planted, rising up the trellis.
Dogs survey the window scene
Waiting protectively for the evil squirrel
who stops on his journey down the phone line
waves his tail spitefully
at the barking behind the window. All fulfilling
their natures but me
a human, spinning my wheels and watching,
wanting as much satisfaction as in a bark.
April 6, 2011 at 8:45 am
Went in a rather interesting direction with this. Came out as “Wild Iris.”
http://erobintica.blogspot.com/2011/04/where-i-went-day-6-poem.html
April 6, 2011 at 8:47 am
Pingback: Poem-a-Day #6 « Shanna Germain
I went in an interesting direction as well. Thanks for the great prompt!
Self-Portrait in a Meandered Stream
http://yearofthebooks.wordpress.com/2011/04/06/poem-a-day-6/
April 6, 2011 at 10:36 am
I’ve been participating in the poem a day goodness, but this was the first one directly tied to the prompts over here.
http://pdxrockpoet.tumblr.com/post/4396852532/swell-season
April 6, 2011 at 12:32 pm
Slow Start, But Steady
Outdoors we won’t have flowers,
here in the mountains,
until the snow melts,
(maybe May, maybe June),
but indoors potted geraniums,
smile in reds and pinks,
on the shelf by the window,
and the baby chicks,
two-days new,
scratch in the tub
by my desk.
Peep!
April 6, 2011 at 3:33 pm
From the NaPoWriMo prompt
- – - – - – - – -
Allegretto
The arc
five seven nine
and in the middle
the poise
the poised
the step
the hoofbeat
the heartbeat
the moment of not quite
holding your breath
the moment of
lips approaching
fingers touching
the moment
portending greatness
unleashing freedom
karmic resolution
that moment bringing
hope unspoken
speaking of joy to come.
Mary Beth Frezon 6 April 2011
April 6, 2011 at 3:49 pm
Pingback: National Poetry Day #6
Still in the game. Perversely, though I’ve written several spring poems on my own, I could get nothing from the prompt today (maybe tomorrow, but not today).
However, the oxymoron generator linked in NaPoWriMo sparked today’s strange little offering.
http://teresanoelleroberts.blogspot.com/2011/04/todays-effort.html
April 6, 2011 at 5:13 pm
The direction I took for this one intrigues me, because I was thinking something totally different this morning. Ah well, thus is the effect of an 8-hr work day I suppose.
http://thegermoftheidea.blogspot.com/2011/04/defiant-bloom.html
April 6, 2011 at 6:14 pm
I taste the colours of
dawn and the fresh greens
clear my senses. Fluttered anticipations
subside and fall away.
The warmer it becomes, the colder I am.
Nothing can stop this
chamomile scented attack
on what was this winter
The fallen leaves are replacing themselves
Flourishing life stops short my chest.
April 6, 2011 at 6:33 pm
Mine’s a quickie due to commitments, but this also has inspired notes that may lead to others. The fruiting / flowering of fungus is fucking fascinating… People? Less so, but the floral bit still danced towards the political as my pay is kinda in question if this goes on too long.
Also at http://localhost/~ejr/JasonsChatter/posts/Day_6_2011/ :
Better dead than red,
so the early blossom said,
excusing its loss.
April 6, 2011 at 7:11 pm
Don’t show me that
Why is it so light tonight
Winter’s car dies now
April 6, 2011 at 7:42 pm
Pingback: Poem#6 – Come Spring (Haikus) « Black Satin
Come Spring (Haikus):
http://jacquezyon.wordpress.com/2011/04/07/poem6-come-spring-haikus/
April 6, 2011 at 8:01 pm
I’ve got absolutely nothing today
But taxes are done and Easter is near
So the children can roam through the green
Bear grass blooming white among
Mountain lilies
Hiding from the ill-conceived Ether Bunny
Soiled felt rag in one paw
Woven bamboo basket in the other
Filled with whiskey and candy
And yet there’s this iris
Not at all the blue of the iris in your eyes
But it will have to do
For now
April 6, 2011 at 9:06 pm
Today’s offering is not from the prompt, but seems to find a small home there.
Ballad of All Her Being
Footloose through the pining air
she writes herself:
Heel away from darkscape dreams,
you with scribbling pen.
Ride the updraft slant
beyond bird and cloud,
into whens and wheres of
too-fine moments,
ghostings of eternity.
Tool these lyrics into
the Ballad of All Your Being,
then sing it,
really loud.
JPW 4/6/2011
April 6, 2011 at 9:09 pm
Today’s offering is not from the prompt, but seems to find a small home there.
Ballad of All Her Being
Footloose through the pining air
she writes herself:
Heel away from darkscape dreams,
you with scribbling pen.
Ride the updraft slant
beyond bird and cloud,
into whens and wheres of
too-fine moments,
ghostings of eternity.
Tool these lyrics into
the Ballad of All Your Being,
then sing it,
really loud.
JPW
April 6, 2011 at 9:09 pm
This is definitely more along the lines of complexity:
http://lanijo.com/poetry/dont-forget-wear-your-clogs
April 6, 2011 at 10:10 pm
UNTITLED
two years ago, I fell in love madly crazy
Our affair started with the end of Winter and ended with the start of Summer
That was enough she decided then, and I
say now
All is not fair in love.
It was the wrong time in her life
perfect timing in mine.
I was barely able to breathe for
natures was awakening loud
fast
so green
and wet
and exploding
I could barely breathe
I am so glad she came with the tulips
daffodils, daphne, witch hazel
She encompassed everything good I wanted to be,
the search, the calm, the care
and brought out the very good like
a child brings out the very best
I repaid the debt
April 6, 2011 at 11:52 pm
My 6th, a haiku:
Camellias
carpeting the path to the
deceased’s house
Cherry blossoms are in bloom in Tokyo now, while some late camellias (Camellia japonica, tsubaki, kigo for spring) are around too.
April 7, 2011 at 1:29 am
Only slightly influenced by the prompt. I used the opportunity to wrestle my inchoate rage at the premature death of a friend into something a bit more formed, a little less jagged.
I have no idea if I can evade the stylesheet for this website; this poem wants to be viewed in a constant-width font.
Elegy For Allie
I am not so bold so as toClaim the right, or the ability,To take the measure ofA man's life.To weigh the value of his time on earth,In dollars, products,Friends and loved ones,Kisses, babies.I would not dareUnpack the layered meaningsOf the names that he was givenBy his father, mother, teachers, friends,Colleagues, lovers, wife and children,Names he'd earned fromRoads he'd followed, books he'd read,Songs he'd sung and dances danced.So many names, like those each person getsFrom places lived, sunsets seen,Sins and sacrifices, enemies and loves.Condensed, compressed, encoded, multi-valent,Unchanging and inconstant.I can try to measure his death, though.I can measure it,In hours of doctor time,Inches of stacked medical records,Millirems of radiation for brain scans and full-body MRIs,Pounds of merciless weight loss,Nights of ER visits,Number of trial medicines,Years since diagnosis.I can countFriendships abandoned aborning, Raging arguments over nothing,Missed motorcycle rides on crisp fall mornings,Saturdays when synagogue was just too tall a mountain,Nights when the need to see events he could not live to seeTortured him beyond all reason,Sand slipping through his fingers all the fasterWhen he'd tighten his grip.And I can talk about the end.Taken by a cancer so mindlessly voraciousAs to steal his breath by wrapping itselfRound his nerves and squeezing them untilHis tortured body quaked and spasmed thenFinally asserted its need for air, nearlyTearing his diaphragm in panicked demand.In the only sunny hour of a cold and rainyIris-blooming cherry blossomed blotchy dayAfter weeks of pain that morphine couldn'tBlot away, when the only hunger he'd senseWas that of the cancer for anything not-itSelf, he conjured up a cloak of dignity toReplace what physical necessity destroyed.He said his last goodbyes,Crammed on the headphones,Cranked up the AC/DC loud,And then, with wracked andRuined body, performed thefinal exercise in his lifeBy choosingWhen to dieAnd how andWhyApril 6, 2011
April 7, 2011 at 1:54 am
I am not so bold so as toClaim the right, or the ability,
To take the measure of
A man's life.
To weigh the value of his time on earth,In dollars, products,
Friends and loved ones,
Kisses, babies.
I would not dareUnpack the layered meanings
Of the names that he was given
By his father, mother, teachers, friends,
Colleagues, lovers, wife and children,
Names he'd earned from
Roads he'd followed, books he'd read,
Songs he'd sung and dances danced.
So many names, like those each person gets
From places lived, sunsets seen,
Sins and sacrifices, enemies and loves.
Condensed, compressed, encoded, multi-valent,
Unchanging and inconstant.
I can try to measure his death, though.I can measure it,
In hours of doctor time,
Inches of stacked medical records,
Millirems of radiation for brain scans and full-body MRIs,
Pounds of merciless weight loss,
Nights of ER visits,
Number of trial medicines,
Years since diagnosis.
I can countFriendships abandoned aborning,
Raging arguments over nothing,
Missed motorcycle rides on crisp fall mornings,
Saturdays when synagogue was just too tall a mountain,
Nights when the need to see events he could not live to see
Tortured him beyond all reason,
Sand slipping through his fingers all the faster
When he'd tighten his grip.
And I can talk about the end.Taken by a cancer so mindlessly voraciousAs to steal his breath by wrapping itself
Round his nerves and squeezing them until
His tortured body quaked and spasmed then
Finally asserted its need for air, nearly
Tearing his diaphragm in panicked demand.
In the only sunny hour of a cold and rainyIris-blooming cherry blossomed blotchy day
After weeks of pain that morphine couldn't
Blot away, when the only hunger he'd sense
Was that of the cancer for anything not-it
Self, he conjured up a cloak of dignity to
Replace what physical necessity destroyed.
He said his last goodbyes,Crammed on the headphones,
Cranked up the AC/DC loud,
And then, with wracked and
Ruined body, performed the
Final exercise in his life
By choosingWhen to die
And how and
Why
April 6, 2011
April 7, 2011 at 2:00 am
I am sorry for the loss of your friend and for your struggle. I’m sitting here in the mall, on lunch, and the tears are rolling down my face. Hugs to to in this hard time.
April 7, 2011 at 11:46 am
Thank you for your kind words, Mary Beth.
April 11, 2011 at 8:59 am