April prompt #15
Write a poem that doesn’t make any sense (non-sequitors, nonsense, stream of consciousness)
then, rewrite the poem to make sense of it.
Thanks a bunch, Kari. Just what I need —to focus
on the mess in my head. Grandson with croup,
no birthday party tomorrow, postponed.
Find somebody who can use the wait do
I want to spread manure today and why
is he crabby already I know it’s
not anything and I’m almost out of
birdseed but the bears and the sun is shinging
just keep the fingers moving on the keyboard
looking out the window at the light a
good day out there but i should edge the flower
beds and have to write this poem before I
do aything but it’s okay cause it’s
cold outside and I’d reather work in the
sunlight why does it make me so mad to
read other people’s arguments on face-
book and why do I even bother I
wanted to see that opera but it wans’t
meant to be and now I can rescheudle
that coffee so that’s a good thing I ought
to go up to rt.7 and check out the
restaurant but I don’t want to do that
today because i need to get my hadns
int the dirk why is my keyboard doing t
his weire thing with ys and spaces probably
because I rest my hands too low and they hti
the and anyway I need to get a
drink of water or maybe acoffee
but it’s too early I’ve run out of stream.
is my brain settling in? who knows.
Does it ever?
GIFTS OF THE MORNING
Sunshine, no wind. Goldfinches
coming to finish the last of the seed.
Time to put my fingers down into the dirt,
time to clear out the debris of winter,
sticks and dead leaves, all the scattered
hulls of things. I will have earth
under my nails again, for my peace.
Last year, this day, I had no peace. My heart
ached with the grandchild aching
to be born, his mother laboring.
Waiting with my son at the lip
of change. It happened.
It was well. And through
the space of loving, I am free.