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poetreeSunday, every Sunday, let's have a community picnic. It's probably been a long week, and it's lovely to have a few minutes to sit back and relax and enjoy some good conversation in a less formal space. Feel free to bring something for the Picnic Basket - a poem you liked this week, a thought you had or something you experienced, or even something completely unrelated to poetry whatsoever that you just feel like sharing. Just take a moment to say hello, and maybe have a bite to eat; no one is going anywhere fast, and the shade promises some relief from the everyday heat. Let’s get to know each other a bit better, here under the branches of the poet’s tree.
You-Pick Farm, Aug. 11th, 2012
Date: 2012-08-19 11:22 am (UTC)sweet, heavy words clustered on branches
fragile and bursting rich
with promise
kissing the lips that welcome them
memories plink into plastic buckets
Blueberries for Sal, for Cynthia
hands reach, grasp, fill, empty
into quarts, trays
easy talk of recipes and pies
overfriendly leaves happy to deposit
water straight into my ear
dew slobber the price of close acquaintance
I dream bypassing regret
with gifts of blue, red, black, gold
heaping, shining, impermanent yes
=========
(It is such a relief to be writing poetry again! I thought my spark had died out for a while.)
Re: You-Pick Farm, Aug. 11th, 2012
Date: 2012-08-19 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-19 02:15 pm (UTC)Speaking of food, PRISM is looking for food-related poems and such. Deadline is August 28:
http://prismmagazine.ca/2012/04/03/prism-is-hungry-call-for-submissions-theme-issue/
And speaking of poems, Mary Alexandra Agner is looking for formal poems about war or pantoums about anything. Deadline is September 15:
http://www.pantoum.org/gsa/offerings.html
no subject
Date: 2012-08-19 04:33 pm (UTC)33. Dùn - Retreat
The mountain rises against the dark sky,
a mass blockading half the winter stars.
We stamp hard feet, rub numb hands, as we try
to glimpse a streak of light, a stone's bright death
in shock attack against this air of ours --
which in our faces clouds as frozen breath.
Against the night's assault, we're weak -- the cold,
the time, the size of it all. It's time to fold:
pack up the scopes and charts of our desire
that map our quest for the universal numen --
with one last glance, retreat inside to human
companionship, small scales, and sleep, and fire.
---L.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-19 05:42 pm (UTC)Re: You-Pick Farm, Aug. 11th, 2012
Date: 2012-08-19 08:55 pm (UTC)Re: You-Pick Farm, Aug. 11th, 2012
Date: 2012-08-21 03:39 pm (UTC)