The challenge this week was to write about something found "outside the window." Here are the results.
Jane Yolen left this poem in the comments.My poem came to me in the middle of the night, as many of my poems often do. If it weren't for insomnia and that itty bitty booklight, I wouldn't get anything written these days!Looking Out My Bedroom Window
Once a field where day and night
rabbits, possums, turkeys, deer,
even bobcats and bears crossed the long grass,
predator and prey, you know—
that old exciting story full of danger.
Now my daughter’s cozy Cape,
the slatey blue of a February sky,
let’s me know with window light
that she and my granddaughters
are safe, eating, showering, reading
the homey stuff, not fight and flight.
The bobcat still crosses, unafraid,
through her back garden some days.
The bear occasionally strides down her driveway,
glancing hungrily at the kitchen door,
exclamation point reminders of times passed.
We give away wild for comfort,
for safety, for family, forever,
but sometimes it is a story,
the story, we need to hear.
@2009 Jane Yolen
Julie Larios at The Drift Record also left a poem in the comments.Wide window -
Lady Snow
leaves her glove
on the mullion
as she goes.
Linda at Write Time left this poem.Just Outside My Window
tiny buds on trees
lift their faces to the sun
drinking in the day
Jane Yolen left a second poem this week!April Outside My Window
Yesterday was spring.
Today high winds bring winter.
This should be March.
@2009 Jane Yolen
Stephanie at Sparble left this poem in the comments.Play
She watches through the window, nonchalant,
At ten, too old for games they used to play.
Neighbor boys throw football on the lawn.
No more swing or chase or keep-away.
At ten, too old for games they used to play.
Boy and girl, the boundary line was thin.
No more swing or chase or keep-away.
Play was so much easier back then.
Boy and girl, the boundary line was thin.
She changes clothes and ponytails her hair.
Play was so much easier back then.
She stands before the mirror: Who is there?
She changes clothes and ponytails her hair,
Picks up her secret weapon from the floor.
Checks the hallway mirror: She’s still there.
Window-glances, breathes, goes out the door,
Picks up her secret weapon from the floor.
Balancing on one wheel is a feat.
Window-glances, breathes, goes out the door,
Takes her unicycle to the street.
Balancing on one wheel is a feat.
Neighbor boys stand frozen on the lawn.
She rides in bumpy circles in the street,
Who watched them through the window, nonchalant.
Tess at Natural Worlds shares a poem entitled Leaving.
Andi at a wrung sponge gives us a poem for Earth day.
Jacqueline at Neverending Story shares a whole bunch of haiku.
Dianne White shares a poem entitled Window Sijo.
Gael Lynch at Small Circles gives us a poem entitled Magnolia.
Jone at Deo Writer shares a poem called Outside My Window.
Princess's LamentIt's not too late if you still want to play. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll add it to the list.
From my tower window
this is what I see:
Once Prince all puckered up
looking for a sleeper
One Prince with a glass slipper
looking for a keeper
One Prince calling Rapunzel
looking for the one with hair
Where the heck is my Prince?
Don’t see him ANYWHERE!
Love your blog! And I do love all the work of those that have posted here. Thanks for sharing them with us. Here's one I posted today...http://gaellynch.blogspot.com/
ReplyDeleteJane Yolen cannot be stopped! She's a writing machine, made of awesome!
ReplyDeleteJane Yole is an inspiration to us all! Here is mine:
ReplyDeletehttp://deowriter.wordpress.com/2009/04/24/poetry-friday-outside-my-window/
Ha! That is very cute. I think I am looking out the same window.
ReplyDeleteTricia,
ReplyDeleteThis was a great Poetry Stretch. Sorry I never got around to writing a poem to submit this week.
I'm now posting at three different blogs on Poetry Fridays. I'm having a hard time keeping with it all.
And Jack, my daughter's Yellow Lab, had a mucky, muddy adventure the other day. I just had to write a poem about it. It was the first time I ever attempted writing a triolet. That poetic form seemed to suit the subject well.