A blog that covers the intricacies of poetry writing, publishing, editing, and the challenges of being an intermediate poet.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
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Thursday, April 25, 2013
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Thursday, April 18, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Day 17, NaPoWriMo, Greetings to Summer
This is from a prompt by NaPoWriMo Web site, to write a greeting poem.
Greeetings to Summer
by Donald Illich
We tried to misplace your luggage,
those mosquitoes and burning nights,
the constantly growing grass and wasps.
Nobody showed up at the airport
for you, nobody helped you to a car.
The directions we gave pointed you
to a different hemisphere, a part
of the world that didn't mind heat.
With all that trouble, you still arrived
in your jeans shorts, Iron Maiden t-shirt.
You carried a box of illegal fireworks,
and blasted each one in our yards.
Bringing you glasses of ice water,
we hoped you'd cool off, thermometer
reaching down into the seventies
instead of the eighties. Instead, you
stormed in the evening, chanting
"Rime of the Ancient Mariner," playing
electric guitar, sounding like thunder,
snapping trees with your tremors.
We had just gotten used to you,
playing badminton on the lush lawn,
when you had to pack up your gear,
headbanging one last time, striking
our days with unnatural temperatures.
We were glad to leave you at your flight,
waving goodbye, feeling a strange gap
in our spirits. As if this might be
the last time we see you. Your songs
repeating inside our dazed heads.
Greeetings to Summer
by Donald Illich
We tried to misplace your luggage,
those mosquitoes and burning nights,
the constantly growing grass and wasps.
Nobody showed up at the airport
for you, nobody helped you to a car.
The directions we gave pointed you
to a different hemisphere, a part
of the world that didn't mind heat.
With all that trouble, you still arrived
in your jeans shorts, Iron Maiden t-shirt.
You carried a box of illegal fireworks,
and blasted each one in our yards.
Bringing you glasses of ice water,
we hoped you'd cool off, thermometer
reaching down into the seventies
instead of the eighties. Instead, you
stormed in the evening, chanting
"Rime of the Ancient Mariner," playing
electric guitar, sounding like thunder,
snapping trees with your tremors.
We had just gotten used to you,
playing badminton on the lush lawn,
when you had to pack up your gear,
headbanging one last time, striking
our days with unnatural temperatures.
We were glad to leave you at your flight,
waving goodbye, feeling a strange gap
in our spirits. As if this might be
the last time we see you. Your songs
repeating inside our dazed heads.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Friday, April 12, 2013
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Flag of My Disposition
Flag of My Disposition
By Donald Illich
It sneaks up on you:
one height in the morning,
a longer one at night.
Soon you hide your feet
in its lushness, feeling
bugs creep up your ankles.
Your spouse revs a mower,
and you are signed up
behind it, watching green bits
shoot out into the yard.
When you are through
the universe has changed.
A natural carpet where
you can putt a ball.
Nature’s haircut, its flag
waving below you, relief,
new starts for everything.
Chewed up leaves
spread across the fields.
An odd spring wind
blows trash and cans.
Soon, it will surprise you,
Cartoon color, vivid,
growing up to your knees.
All you do is try to live
by forgetting it’s there.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Monday, April 1, 2013
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