I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth where blogging is concerned. I'm swamped with work right now, but wouldn't dream of letting down all you folks who take up challenges with me. I don't know what it's like where you are, but it's darn hot here. I hope this isn't a sign of things to come. I have lived here nearly 16 years and I still don't like the summers. I don't miss the Buffalo snow, but I do miss the summers and the fall.
Okay, enough of my stream of consciousness on the weather. Let's write about something HOT. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
Today has a fever,
ReplyDeletebut the ocean puts cool fingers
across its hot forehead
and says, "Shhhh.
Soon it will be night."
--Kate Coombs, 2010, all rights reserved
VANISHING ACT
ReplyDeleteBy Steven Withrow
Nine years old, bored with summer,
sick of sunburn, watermelon,
almost wishing for September,
I follow my patient father
through hanging vines,
chain-linked swings
of our equatorial jungle gym,
where earth turns daily
and vegetables grow.
I plunk myself down
between red radish rows,
leaves like ping-pong paddles,
while Father thrusts
a spade into soft soil.
At garden’s margin
a fat, black rabbit
tips slack ears
like a conjurer’s top hat
at miracle finale
of a mirror-shadow show.
(Father doesn’t look up;
this trick’s for me.)
Long-eared illusionist,
with rabbit sleight-of-foot,
nabs one red radish,
into tall grass disappears,
without presto, bravo,
or wherever-did-he-go.
Pepper
ReplyDeleteIt was such a cute pepper
the size of my thumb.
I bit off the tip
and I felt pretty dumb
for though it was little
that pepper was strong.
I thought it was sweet.
It was hot.
I was wrong.
© Amy Ludwig VanDerwater
(The Poem Farm)
afternoon heat...
ReplyDeletegray cat flops on her side
to stretch long
against the cool wood floor
still and silent as a shadow
Air-Condition
ReplyDeleteby Liz Korba
It's hot.
I'm not.
My contribution is here: http://deowriter.wordpress.com/2010/06/11/poetry-friday-heat/
ReplyDelete