poem-a-day: lucky?

First I want to say that I’m safe and basically functional, not in an overly worrisome state of mental health. But that I am having a much harder time this year with the poem-a-day deal than in years past. I’ve missed several days (starting Friday). Last Tuesday’s two-for I wrote on my phone in bed at the end of the day, but hadn’t typed in here until today. The other ones that aren’t here, I just have not attempted. (Yet! I have the intention. Time will tell if I can carry it out.) I have some time now and I do feel like writing is good for me (I just heard a quote on the Terrible, Thanks for Asking podcast where psychologist Edith Eger said the opposite of depression is expression, which resonates with me). So I’ll try today’s and then see if I can go back and write to some of the prompts I’ve missed.

Writer’s Digest’s Robert Lee Brewer says, “For this Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

1. Write a lucky poem and/or...

2. Write an unlucky poem.

---

lucky

I found two four-leaf clovers the other day
picked them and pressed them
between close and clue
in the big hardback dictionary

and when they were flat and dry,
stuck them to my refrigerator
with a magnet.

I don’t feel especially lucky
almost four years on
of living “every parent’s nightmare”
(a phrase I despise
partly because it’s true
and partly because)

no words encapsulate
that ____ night
(here I wasn’t able to come up with
a suitable adjective:
agonizing, terrible,
which just proves my point)
and the 1406 days since.

Life is hard
but I’m still here
and I can cry when I need to
and say what I feel
and someone will read this

I guess that’s lucky.

poetry month: in praise of you (yes, you)

We’ve made it through from the beginning of the month to the end . And for that, I am thankful. Here’s to another day, another month, and another year of poeming together!

For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. Praise your health or the taste of chocolate cake. Pen an ode to normalcy (whatever that is) or expound on the wonders of your favorite pen (for me, it’s either the Pilot G-2 or Pilot Precise V5). Have a favorite song? A favorite saying? Today is a perfect day to sing its praises.

Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write a new poem than to stick to the prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

in praise of you

yes you,
ok, I can’t see you
but I am aware
that you are doing your best
sometimes it’s so hard

you’ve tried something new
because it seemed like the time

you’ve fought to keep up
that good habit you were just forming

you’ve been tempted
to be down about
your perceived flaws and failings
but strived to let go,
to not be so hard on yourself

you’ve set aside time
to just be
and not feel pressure to do

none of this perfectly
maybe not even well
sometimes just passably
and there have been some failures

but you are doing your best

and sometimes it’s so hard

---

For a subset of people, their love language is “words of affirmation.” Hearing that they’re seen and appreciated, their efforts are noticed, that they make a difference — these words can renew and refresh them.

I have one lovely friend who, like me, is a mother who lost a son. A few months ago, just by chance, we developed a sort of secret code between the two of us. Now whenever we are together (or at least back in the days when people still got together!), we would embrace, and say quietly to each other, “I see you.” I don’t know if words of affirmation is her primary love language. It isn’t mine. But our new ritual is deeply meaningful to me. Leslie, even while we are apart, I see you.

I don’t know who is reading this, or what your struggles have been during this time of isolation. But I do know you’re doing your best. I’m sure some days, that doesn’t seem very good. Same here, yeah. Same here. It still is good. It’s good enough. I hope my words remind you to feel your own strength. I think you’re doing just fine.

poem-a-day challenge: totally empty

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Total (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Total Madness,” “Total Victory,” “Totally Awesome,” and/or “Total Cereal.” — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

totally empty

ok not really
actually I think I am coping OK
but there are moments
I feel totally empty

I can’t go to work
and now sleeping’s off-schedule

not allowed to see my mom:
all visitors prohibited
to keep the community healthy

my kid can’t come home
because dad sees patients with COVID19
so it’s safer for us to stay isolated

I comment on Facebook,
visit friends on Zoom
take a nap when I need it
read when my attention span allows
bake and sew like a century ago

and the days go by
inexorably closer to
whatever happens next

so much to take in
but still

totally empty

poetry month: look back

Here we are: The final “Two-for-Tuesday” day today. And after today, only two more prompts to go. For today’s prompt:

1. Write a look back poem and/or…

2. Write a don’t look back poem. Because some folks just want to keep their eyes on the road ahead.

   — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

look back

I have to look back
because ‘back’ is the only place my son lives

I carried him for 9 months,
he was born,
he lived and thrived,
fought and struggled,
almost made it to 16,
and then was gone.

So I have to look back
because he’s not in the future
and I won’t let go

Every day
is a day farther away
from the span of his existence

I can’t, I wouldn’t,'
turn back time,
but neither do I march fearlessly ahead

I dwell in both places
doing what I can to survive
a fragmented life.

---

“Don’t look back” is such a common saying. But it’s really not even possible. All of us decide how to live and behave today based on what we have learned from the multitude of our previous experiences. If we didn’t look back, we’d never get anywhere, because we would keep making the same mistakes and never figure out how to advance.

I don’t spend my days reminiscing about the past, about my life with Rader in it. I’m not stuck there, but I definitely visit! Today, nearly three years after his death, I have a rewarding and fulfilling existence. But his life has a profound influence on mine every day.

Albus Dumbledore told Harry Potter regarding the Mirror of Erised, in which Harry was able to see himself together with his late parents, “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.” I agree. I look back, and ahead.

poem-a-day challenge: massive

For today’s prompt, write a massive poem. The poem itself could be massive in size and length. Or it could take on a massive problem, describe a supermassive black hole, or praise a massive bowl of ice cream covered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Whatever you write, I hope it’s a massive success. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

MMO*

An olive-green stuffed frog
— of an odd fuzzy fabric
called eyelash fur —
hopped our whole family into the wondrous world of Webkinz
when you turned 5.

Matt picked out Froggy as a present for you,
with specially sealed tag attached
containing a secret code
to unlock
the kid-friendliest MMO.

Soon, the three of us each had accounts
(Dad played on ours).

We adopted pet after pet,
collecting one stuffed animal after another.
We sent digital presents back and forth,
decorated virtual homes,
grew vegetable gardens,
collected rare items,
mined for gems.

Long after its heyday, and ours,
Webkinz World is still there to visit
and Froggy lives on.

---

*massively multiplayer online game

poetry month: keep the change

For today’s prompt, write a change poem. This could be a poem about something that has changed or something that will change. Changing tires, clothes, or perspectives. Change left over when paying for something with cash. Feel encouraged to change it up today. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

change

Certain moments hold the weight of change

Heavy as we look back over time

After stands so starkly from before

Not even belonging to the same life

Grant me strength to carry, then,

Every burden into the light of today

---

When I think of acrostic poems, generally I consider them childish. I wanted to see if I could compose one and make it seem as natural as I could, rather than having the forced feeling I usually expect from the form. I am happy with this first attempt. I’m enjoying the shorter poems I’ve worked on the past couple of days. I think editing down my ideas helps me focus on what is important to say.

(Here’s Robert Lee Brewer’s list of 100 poetic forms)

remix poem: an introvert in isolation

For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. That is, take one (or more) of your poems from earlier this month and remix it. Make a free verse poem into a villanelle. Or condense a sestina into a haiku or senryu. Or forget form. Just completely jumble up the words…or respond to the original poem(s). As always, have fun with it. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

It was only two days ago that I wrote this one — Social Studies, based on some concept using the word social — and then commented that I’d like to come back to it later and rework it. Surprise! I guess now is my chance. (Note: I started, and made one attempt that turned out to be still very much kind of wandering and pointless. Somehow it ended up talking about Dr. Phil? What do I really want to say? Maybe distilling down into a haiku will bring the idea into relief.)

an introvert faces the pandemic

social isolation
is hard for reasons other
than being alone

Social Studies

Somehow I made it through school
and even through my 20s
without realizing I was an introvert
and understanding what that meant

I've become much more introspective
in the decades since then
I like knowing myself
and what makes me the way I am,
the instructions that explain
how I operate most efficiently.

I’m social in my own way,
kind of awkward,
not good in crowds,
happy alone,
but getting kind of tired of isolation.

The social studies —
the coping skills I must have developed
over those years
when I wasn’t conscious of what my needs were
— are paying off now
in these most unsociable times.

poem-a-day challenge: hanging my hopes on pollen

For today’s prompt, write a nature poem. Could be nature like trees, leaves, grass, birds, etc. Or your poem could tackle human nature. Another possibility is to look at the nature of technology or the interaction of planets around each other and the sun. Or well, the nature of poetry! When in doubt, just see what happens naturally. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

pollen counts

I hope it was the pollen
the counts were high
when we ate dinner out on the deck
Wednesday night

False color scanning electron microscope image of pollen grains from a variety of common plants: sunflower, morning glory, prairie hollyhock, oriental lily, evening primrose and castor bean.

Image: © Public domain image (created by the Dartmouth Electron Microscope Facility)

now it’s Friday
and I woke up Thursday
with one eye crusted shut
and my throat scratchy and sore

so far there’s no fever,
so maybe it’s not corona.
I haven’t been anywhere at all
for over a week,
but my husband works in health care
and is bound to be exposed,
maybe has been already

I guess I’m about 50/50
that it could be the virus.
Some moments I’m just sure,
of course that’s what it is,
and others, I think, nah,
it must be a false alarm.

we are prepared as we could be
and so now we just wait

if symptoms increase, I’ll go for testing
because William has to know
so he won’t put his patients at risk

time ticks by
I ask myself if I feel better or worse
this hour than the last

I feel tired.
But is it because I woke up in the middle of the night?
Or stress in general?
Or is it fatigue, another sign?

I’ve got to keep my mind busy
or I’ll spiral down into
the what-ifs
and all possible bad outcomes

these are my thoughts
as I’m alone in my head
socially distanced
careful and cautious

that maybe it’s come for me anyway
I’m probably fine
time will tell.

---

I was pretty confident that I had something besides COVID-19 until my husband told me that in fact some cases had presented with pinkeye as an early symptom. I’m trying to remain upbeat about it, since I still don’t have a fever and haven’t been in contact with anyone outside my household in more than a week. But on the other hand, why not me? I could have picked it up last Thursday at the grocery store. Or it could have outmaneuvered William’s attempts to decontaminate every night when he came home from working at the hospital those seven days in a row last week. Like I said, the arguments in my head are going about 50/50 that it makes sense I have it and it makes sense I don’t. All I can do is wait.

poetry month: social studies

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Social (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Social Distancing at the Grocery Store,” “Social Media Trolls,” “Social Club,” and/or “Social Distortion.” Heck, flipping the script to come up with a title like “Ice Cream Social” would totally work too.

Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write a new poem than to stick to the prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

Social Studies

Somehow I made it through school
and even through my 20s
without realizing I was an introvert
and understanding what that meant

I've become much more introspective
in the decades since then
I like knowing myself
and what makes me the way I am,
the instructions that explain
how I operate most efficiently.

I’m social in my own way,
kind of awkward,
not good in crowds,
happy alone,
but getting kind of tired of isolation.

The social studies —
the coping skills I must have developed
over those years
when I wasn’t conscious of what my needs were
— are paying off now
in these most unsociable times.

---

I think there’s a good idea here, but it needs some development. Maybe in May when I’m not writing a poem a day, I can return to a couple of these and see what more I can do with them.

two poem Tuesday: love and anti-love

We’re three weeks into the challenge now, which means “Two-for-Tuesday” day today. This is the one I break out every challenge (alumni know which one I’m talking about).

For today’s prompt:

1. Write a love poem and/or…

2. Write an anti-love poem. Because some folks just aren’t that into love poems.

Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write a new poem than to stick to the prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

I haven’t written two poems on either of the previous Tuesdays this month. I’ll try today to write both instead of choosing one.

anti-love

There’s an ugly wound
on my soul
from the blunt force trauma
of losing a child to suicide

It’s the kind of thing
you always hide
in polite company
and even now
I hesitate
to say any more,
to tell the thing I came to tell.

The wound gives me thoughts
that should not be expressed
There’s a tiny voice I suppress
— would never say out loud —
every time I hear the news
someone is expecting.

I’m so happy for you!
Children are such a blessing.
But the wound whispers darkly
so only I can hear,
”I hope they don’t grow up to break your heart.”

love

it was love
that wrought
my devastation

— anyone
who has lost someone
understands —

and love
has been the only thing
to begin to revive
the damaged parts of me

a paradox:
that which harms also heals
somehow the seed of my destruction
yet is the source of my redemption

such power

I want to wield it well

---

So one thing about these poetry exercises is that they’re not all successful. I don’t wrap it up every day thrilled with what I’ve written. Maybe I come back and do some revisions. Every first effort could be improved with some additional attention. Or maybe I call it good enough and move on.

These days, so much depends on the energy I have. Am I fighting just to get through another day of self isolation without alienating the people I love? Yesterday I was so grouchy. Everything seemed bleak, and it was hard not to take it out on my husband, who is the only other person in my household right now. And he’s working — although things are weird, he still gets to leave the house and see people and maintain whatever sense of normalcy is possible under the extraordinary conditions of life at this moment.

So today’s poems, I don’t think they’re so great. But, as with every attempt at poetry, they did give me the opportunity to take some stuff that was inside of me and express it outwardly, and in some sense, let it go. So that’s always a positive.

poem-a-day challenge: the isolation dance

Writer’s Digest’s Robert Lee Brewer: While I write my poems in April, I figure out the prompts in February and March—because I’ve learned it’s difficult to create both at the same time. So when I thought of today’s prompt, I was hopeful that it would be about a time in the recent past, but here we are, so without further ado…

For today’s prompt, write an isolation poem. For many, this is a very real and present subject. And for me, I’ve found that social distancing and staying at home has actually made it harder for me to find the isolation my introverted soul needs to recharge—so I actually wake up before anyone else to get a little alone time. But isolation existed before COVID-19 as well. So there are plenty of ways to dive into this one.

---

isolation

isolation is a verb,
an action I was learning to perform
in the first two sessions of
an eight-week beginners’ belly dance class
my friends and I had joined for fun

moving a part of the body
separately from all the parts
surrounding it:
the ribcage, a hip, a shoulder

isolation is a noun
that put a premature end
to those classes.

We should be “graduating” tonight
but instead we still are on hiatus
alone in our homes
where we miss the music
and each other
and long to again browse through the spangled costume pieces
wondering which ones would look best
and when we would have learned enough to earn
the right to wear a jingly hip scarf
to punctuate the joy
of our togetherness,
our communal dancing

---

poem-a-day challenge: six words

Write a poem every day of April with the 2020 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. Write a six words poem.

For today’s prompt, write a poem that uses the following six words:
bump, embrace, fixture, howl, lonely, resolve

How did I come up with this list? Actually, it’s a tie-in to our Shakespeare Week that starts today, because the Bard is actually credited with inventing all six of these words. Pretty cool, eh? For sestina fans, I kind of intentionally made it six words for a reason. So let’s get writing!

(33 lamentable words coined by William Shakespeare.)

Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write a new poem than to stick to the prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

six words

I remember believing
the struggles brought on
by your depression and anxiety
were, while serious,
just a bump we would have to get over
in raising you
to the happy and successful adulthood you would have.
To the life you would embrace
when you could leave behind the petty pedantry
of compulsory education
and learn what you wanted to learn
and do what you wanted to do
create what you wanted to create
beholden to no one.

But the dark clouds
became a fixture
and your increasing discomfort
a howl, as they blocked out the moon
until there was no light at all
and you, lonely in the blackness
lost hope
even as we
with parental resolve unrelenting
and a love beyond explanation
tried to reach you.
Our every effort still failed
to illuminate the solitary place
in which you found yourself trapped.

In the end it didn’t matter what I believed,
what I still believe:
that you would somehow have found comfort
and ease
and satisfaction,
a life worth living,

if you could have held on.

---

When I read Robert Lee Brewer’s initial direction of writing a six-words poem, at first I thought of the idea of six-word stories. This poem was going to be pretty fast and easy (and short)! But then I clicked through and read the real instructions. Hmmm, it would likely be much harder than I thought.

After I worked the first two words into the poem, and realized they were in the order presented, I challenged myself to include the other four words also sequentially — not a requirement, but something I wanted to see if I could do.

The title, six words, obviously refers to the prompt. But I’ve also included my six-word story as the last line.

poem-a-day: hark, the opuntia

After today’s poem, we’ll be 60 percent of the way through this challenge. If you’ve made it this far, you’ve got a better than 60 percent chance of making it to the finish line. In my case, I know not every day has been pretty, but I’ve got up and poemed—and that alone is something. So let’s keep at it.

For today’s prompt, write a message poem. You can decide the medium: Message in a bottle, postcard, or voice mail. Of course, there are text messages, telegrams, and letters. My wife loves to leave me messages on Post-It notes (and I love to find them). So write a message in a poem today!

Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write a new poem than to stick to the prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

Message of the prickly pear

I have some neighbors
a couple streets over.

I don’t know them,
haven’t even seen them;
I just pass by their house sometimes,
sun hat on, earphones in,
on my way to 10,000 steps.

They have two prickly-pear cacti planted in the ground:
one at the foot of their mailbox
and one in a raised bed by the sidewalk.

Three times when I have walked by,
there have been broken-off paddles of cactus
just lying there,
and gingerly I picked them up
and brought them home*
and planted them in pots,
so now I have prickly-pear cacti as well
(although mine overwinter inside).

When I went by last week,
and saw theirs were bursting with new buds
and tiny burgeoning lobes,
I heard the message of the prickly pear:

“Seize the day!
When conditions are favorable,
GROW!”

And so I transplanted my three
together in a new pot
and brought them outside for the summer
because now is their time.

And I hope
my time is coming.

---

For everything you ever wanted to know about prickly pears, try opuntiads.com!

View fullsize

ready to grow again!

View fullsize

last year's growth

View fullsize

overwintering inside

* I brought the first little lobe home in my pocket. Don’t do that! Even if they don’t look very prickly, they are.

Our recent transplanting adventure was a logistical challenge. How to get the big ones out of the pot they were in and into the new pot without getting ourselves stuck by bundles of tiny spines? In the end, we used a variety of garden implements and managed to hurt neither ourselves nor the opuntiads.

poem-a-day exotic species: orba parente

For today’s prompt, write an exotic poem. Set your poem in an exotic locale. Or maybe write about an exotic person, animal, or technology. And remember that your everyday things may be exotic to someone else. Honestly, I’ve found poets are a breed of exotic creature whenever I’m in a room full of “normal” adults. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

orba parente

the bereaved parent is an exotic species,
the sighting of which is prone to provoke
barely concealed gawking
and furtive whispering

having lost a child
is as if one were a dangerous creature
on exhibit at the zoo
where everyone wants to see
but no one wants to get too close

because who knows what might happen
best keep your distance
and hope that I am
a mere curiosity you can forget about
tomorrow

---

Forgive the poorly translated Latin title; I’ve never studied Latin, so I had to just plug “bereaved parent” into an online translator to try and achieve the effect of a species’ scientific name. I think “orba” has something to do with the root of the word “orphan,” and since there’s not an English word for a parent who has lost a child (the way orphan describes having lost one’s parents) the idea of it being applied in reverse resonated with me.

daily poetry: the last time

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “The Last (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “The Last Cookie,” “The Last Roll of Toilet Paper,” “The Lasting Impression,” “The Last Word,” and/or “The Last Starfighter.”

I guarantee this won’t be the last prompt of the month. So get your poem on today, and I’ll see you again tomorrow. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

the last time

Mothers sometimes lament
in contemplative moments
you often don’t know
that something you do
is happening for the last time

There was a last time I carried you
you were at least six
and loved to be carried
although of course you could
get around perfectly well by yourself

There was a last time I tied your shoes
although this, too, was something
you were content to let me do
even after you had the skills

In Montessori education
there’s a philosophy of
”help me … do it myself.”
It is one to which
you did not ascribe

You were happy for help
or to have me do it for you
so you could focus on
whatever lit up your imagination
and the latest idea you had
and how to bring it to fruition.

The last time:

something is commonplace,
usual,
everyday,

until it isn’t.

---

There was a last time I touched you,
this time in stark awareness it was the last.
I held your hand
and tried in vain to store up
a lifetime’s worth of handholding.

I used up all the Kleenex in the room
and all the light inside me
and walked out in darkness

the last time.

poem-a-day challenge: dream breakdown

Once we get through today’s poem, we’ll be half of the way through this challenge. Cue the Bon Jovi. And let’s jump in to this prompt.

For today’s prompt, write a dream poem. The poem can be a remembered dream. Or it could be a dream about the future (like getting out and about without worry again). Of course, some dreams are good, but there are nightmares too. So let’s get dreamy with our poems today. After all, Blondie said it best: “Dreaming is free.” — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

Your vast imagination
— which conceived fantastical worlds
and elaborate play scenarios
practically from infancy

and resulted in the creation of
innumerable board games
live action playground games
computer and video games*,
worlds in Minecraft
YouTube videos
musical projects,
more ideas than you had time to bring to fruition —

ultimately failed you
when you could not dream of a world
in which your life would have meaning
and bring joy, not suffering.

Just once, you were terribly wrong.

form poem day: attempting a nonet

We’re two weeks into the challenge now, and our second “Two-for-Tuesday” prompt falls on the 14th, which gets me thinking about sonnets. For today’s prompt:

1. Write a form poem (here are 100 poetic forms to choose from) and/or…

2. Write an anti-form poem. I get it; some people don’t like forms.

If you feel like a form doesn’t quite give you direction for today’s prompt, write a poem about something with structure or form, or write a poem about chaos.

(So I chose:) The nonet poetic form is simple. It’s a 9-line poem that has 9 syllables in the first line, 8 syllables in the second line, 7 syllables in the third line, and continues to count down to one syllable in the final (ninth) line. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

I should not wait so late in the day
to check the poetry prompt and
attempt to corral my thoughts
into some kind of sense.
By evening I
have spent all
the good
ones.

---

This afternoon, I looked at the list of 100 poetic forms. I read about several (alphabet, the bop, concrete), and made a stab at catena rondo before I settled on nonet. I wrote another nonet before this one, but didn’t care for it, then realized my brain was too tired to keep trying the tricky types. So, lesson learned! Earlier poeming tomorrow.

poetry month: all-purpose

For today’s prompt, write a purpose poem. Many people like to have a purpose in life. Some folks do things on purpose. And yes, sometimes it appears there is no purpose to life’s events. Whatever drives you, I hope you’re able to pair purpose (or lack of purpose) with your poetry today.

Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write a new poem than to stick to the prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

All-purpose

On my kitchen counter
sit two Mason jars:
one old pint; one new quart

each filled with a mysterious mixture
of flour, water, and magic

which both

seems to require rather careful tending
— the new one, a gift from a girlfriend
exploring baking as a hobby
while she’s working from home —

and

is remarkably tolerant of neglect —

at least the latter is my hope
as I stir and measure and will into new life
the long-forgotten sourdough starter
that’s been patiently waiting
in its pint jar at the back of my fridge.

Every time I told my husband,
a brewer of beer,
that I might throw it out,
his response was that yeast is an enigma
and it might not be quite dead

So I saved it for a day
that turns out to be today,
fed it some all-purpose flour
and a generous helping of well wishes

and in a week or two
of attentive nurturing,
if the gods of fermentation smile upon me,
the old starter will thrive
beside the new,

restored to its purpose.

poem-a-day challenge: haunted

For today’s prompt, write a spirit poem. Poets may write about a ghostly spirit. Or pen an ode to the spirits found in a pub or liquor cabinet. Of course, there’s also school spirit and the spirit of adventure. Personally, I like The Spirit of comics and radio fame. Let the spirit of poetry lead the way for you today. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

Haunted

No ghostly apparitions
no visits in my dreams
no paranormal coincidences.

No heart-shaped rocks or leaves appearing
nor pennies in my path
no messages at all from the great beyond.

I am haunted by
the absence
of your
spirit.

learning to let go of what I cannot control

For today’s prompt, write a control poem. That is, write about having control, losing control, or sharing control with others. Of course, I expect at least one person to mention the control key on keyboards. And well, y’all always surprise me, because I can’t control which direction everyone is going to go with this prompt. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

(I have read some COVID-19 coping advice to this effect, so I make no claim that these ideas are original, but they are definitely helpful to me!)

control

I can control
how I spend my time
what I consume
including what I read online,
whether I get enough sleep
(not doing so well with that one)
my own response to what happens around me.

I have more inner resources to exert control
if I practice self care
(including the sleep part mentioned above)
and don’t let my cup get too empty.

I cannot control
whether other people in my city and state follow rules
what the government does or does not do
whether anyone in my family is exposed to the virus
(other than taking precautions as best we can).

I cannot control anyone, not a single person, other than myself
no matter how closely related we may be
or how much influence I feel I should have.

And so I must let go of the hope of such control
and focus on my tiny sphere of influence
and on making the best decisions for myself
and for the good of my community.

I would like to have more control!
But I have gotten used to disappointment.