Local Poets' Resposes to "Citizen Poetry" Prompts.

 

We're in April, and Spring is catching up with us !

 

Over the past three months I have been inviting local poets to send me poems, usually in response to simple prompts.

 

Here follows a selection of this work - such a variety of voices and subjects! Thank you, everyone who sent me such riches - I am publishing here just my own limited selection, with only one or two poems per person.

 

Browse away ! I hope to extend our scope from here, recruit more poets, and try to keep up with weekly posts.

 

So here, to begin, is my anthology: If I have missed anyone, my apologies -. 

What if we didn’t need

to scintillate our dulled senses

with spectacle – if ordinary

miracles weren’t hidden

at all, but offered:

cathedrals of the forest,

spires of pine and oak

nearly transparent in

the deepening dusk,

such moments of wonder

strung through our days

like pearls, lit from within,

waiting to be seen?

 

--Peaco Todd

-

.

Silent

 

silence is thunderous

only when echoing

with the cacophony

of things unspoken

I can feel in the very air

the wordless sorrows

of natives disempowered

of their lands, lost

to the reach of history’s

redemption, lost as I am,

a thief, to the benison

of forgiveness

 

--Peaco Todd

 

 Finding Religion

Years ago in rural Morocco,

I sat in the shadows of a rickety cafe 

so precariously perched over a bedazzled sea

that the structure creaked and swayed with the breeze.

In the distance, 

a lone brown figure 

shimmered in the heat.

A young man,

wearing a loincloth,

floated in my direction 

gracefully balancing 

an oversized turban 

triple -wrapped 

high on his head. 

Catching my eye,

the boy moved toward my table

And slowly began to uncoil his huge turban 

revealing a steaming mass of fragrant macaroons

heaped on a copper platter

I purchased three cookies

 bit into the first—

The caramelized crunchy edge

 the delicate chewiness of fresh coconut

the melt of its sugar center — 

I gasped with pleasure 

rolled my eyes inward

saw beyond matter 

to infinity

for the first time.

Every day, like clockwork,

for the rest of my vacation

I ventured out of the city,

a pilgrim to that humble cafe,

to take holy communion

of macaroons and mint tea.           

Karen McCall         

 

 

 

 

Feeding Dinosaurs

The turkeys disperse 

in a thunderous burst of wings.

Though native to this land,

these ungainly birds appear so foreign-- 

even ugly--

I feel revulsion 

(I am ashamed to say)

when they reach their necks 

to tap on my window

to be fed.

I'll give them this:

they have iridescent feathers and lovely eyes.

But those eyes are

encrusted in a monstrous 

bruised and carbuncled head.

Their scaly legs 

evoke Jurassic dreams

and propel their bulbous forms

over the land with unexpected grace.

Three turkeys visit daily.

Their strange hairy beards sprout from their chests.

They stalk in silence,

like undertakers,

waiting for my last breath.

Karen McCall

March 14, 2021

The Snow Clock

Outside the snow is falling -

Some say it’s just appalling-

Complaining, even bawling-

But childhood is calling...

Leaning, hearts are pumpin’,

Sledding toward a-jumpin’,

Airborne, now we’re dumpin’,

Laughing, snow’s a-clumpin’!

We climb anticipating...

Soon our boots are bracing-

Now downhill we are racing!

Screeching and embracing

Those childhoods we’re chasing!

-Bonnie Toomey

February 23, 2021

Field

Tolerable are the trees, unlike Need.

Challenging storm and drought with faith;

With Breath-taking patience and grace

Breath-taking to men with axes
                                 
Gigantic sacrifice for mouths to feed

Stilled pendulums lain in Murky tombs
                                 
Endless prayers and bittersweet tears.

-Bonnie J. Toomey
April 3, 2021

Love

for the 

fey curmudgeon,

no matter how much gloom 

sits in the middle of that heart, 

is the date and chocolate bliss ball -

rolled with almond paste and 

presented with a dusting 

of coconut sprinkles 

on a doilied plate;

sure to welcome 

It at first 

bite...

Silent

 

silence is thunderous

only when echoing

with the cacophony

of things unspoken

I can feel in the very air

the wordless sorrows

of natives disempowered

of their lands, lost

to the reach of history’s

redemption, lost as I am,

a thief, to the benison

of forgiveness

-- 

Thunderous Silence

nature’s breath

native to the heart

can you feel it?

Linda Haley

Dawn’s silence.  Deep into the REM.
Broken by a thunderous 5 :15 a.m bleating.
An accident, a death, a wrong number?
The breath of a new day, of plans and projects
Snatched away in an instant.
I feel for the phone. Prepare for bad news.
Why is this pessimism so native to my psyche?

Night Walk

Out in the pounding of the ghosts

The moment rushes into the past

I feel the thunderous breath

The native dialect of Earth

The silence within reach

They call them the pearls of wisdom

But so often they are stored away
Hidden from our consciousness.

Will they break free?  Amidst this deepening
Divide, where wisdom is demanded,
When will they become part of a needed dialogue?

Within our democratic society, the quest for
transparent governance is needed now more than ever.
Will these so-called pearls scintillate we the people,
Those that govern, those that have a hand in
Shaping our Union? 

Or will rampant hatred, bigotry and fear
Overwhelm us, move us back, not forward?
Pray that the spire, the tower of patriotism, fairness and justice
And yes, sanity will keep us from this creeping darkness.

Susan H

Delight!

"Delight" I find in the diction-ary

should bring great joy and a smile in me

and poetry, too, all hail, all hail

sets my mind on a course to rhyme without fail.

Thus delight is the word on our lips today

and may we all be bright, delightful and gay!

Susan H

Winter Light

Windows pull pink light from December sun settling,
the way my eyes draw down ancient star-shine.
these strands in the sky--
simple pearls on the black breast of night--
show me the way:
North, the ancient plough once again pushes
over white-faced mountain top
teaches me to keep tilling.
We only reap what we sow
In this December snow.
South, Orion spreads his big chest over the barn,
his belt, a pathway home,
his stardust, bone of my celestial bones.
I return every night to my skeletal blueprint.
And to the West, an affair is about to unfold:
Jupiter chases Saturn’s skirts across the sky--
they are finally on course to connect
under interstellar mistletoe,
wrap their giant gaseous rings around each other
entwine like lovers at sunset,
while the crescent moon grins,
low over the pine trees
Don’t look away!
Stay
for the conjunction
of Science and Spirit sparkling
In this momentary Christmas star,
to see what they saw, old and new at once.
Our collective human heart stirs

as we drop into the longest night
pregnant pause
deepest clove of season
No doubt sweet Venus will be up before dawn
to look into the eyes of Aquarius
her patient waiting finally over
as Winter Solstice gives birth to the New Age
Silent footfall of sun and moon and star
(we think we have traveled so far)
through depth of space and time
to be where I am
where you are.
Darkness has always had a home in me,
otherwise the stars would have no place
to fall.
May we spiral out of the dark
with kind hearts
full of candle light, starlight, the first pink ray of Winter’s sight
and new eyes to see.

        ~Katie O'Connell 12/17/20

The path from darkness to light can seem solitary 

But as we travel, there are kindnesses which call us forward. 

The trees speak from their depth, “Keep going! We are with you

Each sunrise pulls us into a new day

Every footfall a silent invitation to be curious

Whose voice then do you recognize?

Christi Humphrey 

T

 Seeking solace in an unstable world-

Where lies are bought and sold,

Truth so hard to hold.

We pause to debrief,

Seeking relief,

Convict him for treason, with relief

Bob Butcher

From the Latin fulgere, effulgence

An inner shining of moral abundance

But more than that, a roaring fire

Hungry to devour knowledge and wit,

Forging the Enlightenment of Voltaire and Rousseau.

Centuries later, the Age of Reason is besieged by the

Age of Unreason, of Greed and Strife.

Will nature prevail, do the embers of Reason

Still glow, awaiting a fair wind to ignite the dead wood,

Rekindling, rebirthing, reviving our dead earth,

Creating a new quickening, a fresh Imbolc of possibility and life?

Ted Smyth

Holy Science

In all its forms I favour Science

My type requires conscience

And a great deal of self-reliance

Hard work and thought victorious

No business model only ordered chance

If you please no rants

Helen Steele 1/21

Swimming

Beauty descends into Darkness entitled descends to despair

Sleeping beauty will not wake until her anchor becomes her lyre

Entitled skims lovely waves toward the fair lights

Until she looks at the dark below

Her despair is her lonely fight  

Helen Steele 1/2/21