Dear Friends,
You may know April is Poetry Month even if poetry isn’t exactly your thing. So, if you are one of those who would rather read junk mail than any kind of poetry, I bid you to hang on. This will be relatively painless and maybe even fun.
I’m currently working, ever so helter-skelter-ish, on a longer collection than my chapbook (Thoughts at Crossings, 2022). And I’m delighted to have found a wonderful poetry group in Savannah where I can continue to learn and grow with expert critiquing as part of a stellar group (there are more college professors than not, me being one of the “nots.”)
We recently staged a fun exhibit called “Art and Poetry in Dialogue,” better known as an ekphrastic exercise, in which we poets wrote poems inspired by paintings created by local artists. Several different formats were employed by the poets and more than one poet addressed a particular artwork. It was great fun for writers, readers, and audience.
I chose a form called the Minute Poem. Forgive me, anti-poetry folks, while I go technical for just a “minute.” Here is the formula:12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter. The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff but rhyming is optional.
Here we go:
Poem #1 – In Consideration of Blue
Inspired by “Blue Living Room” by Harriet Speer
I sit in the blue living room
pondering hue
how it colors
our temperament.
Blue is analytical, one
who loves details–
loyal, driven
to be secure.
Perfectionist, deeply caring–
green things and sym-
metry temper
blue perspectives.
Poem #2 – Evening Prayer on Holy Ground
Inspired by “Evensong by the Creek” by Mary Thurman
That this evening may be holy
live oak to creek
marsh grass to sky–
blessings draw nigh.
That your sacred angels lead us
out of the dust
to paths of peace,
goodwill, release.
That we, pardoned and forgiven,
bide near heaven’s
living water
ever after.
Poem #3 – Tapping Into Wisdom
Inspired by “What the Trees Know” by Joseph Frew-Miller
I want to know what the trees know.
Their roots probe low,
their limbs search high
to wind and sky.
I imagine there’s a wisdom
locked in kingdom
come. Do I dare
ask a small share?
I will plant myself on the shore
absorbing more
color, listening
to leaves singing.
There now, that wasn’t too painful, was it? Maybe you learned something new, maybe you read your junk mail instead. Either way, I hope Spring is putting a song in your heart somehow, by hook, crook, or maybe even verse!
Until next time,
Linda
