April 17th poems
Write a poem in the 3rd person. You can describe a scene, an event, whatever. But there’s to be no use of “I,” “me,” “my,” etc.–not even “you” or “we.” No, keep yourself completely out of this poem. I’ll leave the subject of your poem up to you.
(Note: There is a way, of course, to include yourself. You can write about yourself as “he” or “she” depending on your gender. If you would normally write, I woke up in the morning, then for this prompt write, He woke up in the morning. It’s an effective trick for people who just can’t stop writing about themselves. This method also distances the poets from themselves, which can be interesting.)
Red-Bellied Woodpeckers
They are territorial
Only one pair per yard
Not like cardinals and juncos,
finches and titmice
who raid the feeders in flocks
of red and black,
yellow and gray.
One male with his red hat from eyes to neck
One female with her hat sliding to the back of her head.
But today, two males vie for her egg-laying skills.
The first is at the feeder with her, picking at sunflower seeds
and orange sections left for the orioles.
The second perches nearby, chucking loudly
to attract her attention.
He is younger, probably, new at this.
The first gives no ground
and is quiet, his confidence
in her devotion needing no sound.
–Candace
TWILIGHT - 1936 - In The Country
Say it softly,
The word is tender, a calm place in the heart.
Twilight.
Neither day nor night,
Young or old,
The world sighs and prepares to take its rest.
It is the time for children playing as the light dims,
Laughing, with the fragrance of summer’s dirt and crushed grass
In their nostrils.
The smell of fun.
Tiny lanterns rise from the warm earth and beckon.
Time to chase fireflies.
It is the time for family to gather in the dusk,
With quiet talk and muffled laughter while children caper.
Day sounds die and night sounds drift
Over murmurs of contentment.
Shadows appear, dark on darkening,
Silhouettes of rustling trees.
Whippoorwills call.
Harbinger of warm baths and feather beds.
Old or young,
Angel of drowsy eyes,
Quiet prayers,
Soft kisses,
Blessed sleep.
Twilight.
April 17th, 2008 at 10:34 pm