I threw my back out a few weeks ago and have spent a lot of time on my back staring at the ceiling. It would have been so much nicer to recline in the grass and stare at the sky, but alas my immobility and the cold prevented that. Whether you're bird watching, star-gazing, cloud watching, plane spotting, or just plain enjoying the sun on your face, there's a lot to be said for looking up. While looking up literally can be a lot of fun, looking up figuratively has it's benefits too (you know the power of positive thinking and all).
So, let's write about looking up. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results later this week.
So, let's write about looking up. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results later this week.
Here I picture citizens of Metropolis looking up and shouting, "It's a bird...it's a plane...it's..." and then falling super-silent.
ReplyDeleteAfter Superman’s Death
By Steven Withrow
Lex Luthor marries Lois Lane.
They honeymoon on Mars.
On Earth, an elevated train
Goes plunging into cars.
The Daily Planet’s put to bed
When Perry White resigns,
And Jimmy Olsen’s blog is read
By dowagers online.
Bizzaro, Zod, and Brainiac
Take over City Hall,
And chuckle when a gas attack
Kills thousands at the mall.
Far north, a crystal fortress stands
As empty as a dent.
Back east, the condo board demands
Arrears from deadbeat Kent.
Copyright 2011 by Steven Withrow. All rights reserved.
“Things
ReplyDeleteare looking up”—
Things
like needles, potatoes and
lace-up shoes
all turn their eyes to the
skies?
Perhaps potatoes are content to gaze up
out of the earth
out of the darkness of root cellar or
cupboard under the sink
into ground-level daylight.
Maybe needles push sharply up
from the conundrum of their cushions
(both rough and soft),
They spin on their points, seeking a better view
of the unstrung world,
but something like a loose lash
keeps getting in the way.
The shoe has a better chance: looking up
with eyes so small as to be eyelets,
but many,
laced together into one long
compound eye. Do they get
glimpses of the rest of the body,
blurred motion of walking, streak of blue midnight?
When things
are looking up,
what do we see?
~Heidi Mordhorst 2011
ARR matey
Hope you feel better soon! Thanks for inspiring this haiku:
ReplyDeleteThe economy's
Either looking up or down.
Depends on your stance.
Mad Kane's Humor Blog
Heidi, I like that very much, esp. the shoe view! (The needles remind me of Sylvia Plath's mushrooms.) Mine's autobiographical, I admit.
ReplyDeleteMusings of a Young Philologist
I look up words in the dictionary:
each one gleams like a toy planet.
Today I found "recalcitrant."
Next time my little sister
gets that thrust-chin look,
I'm going to call her that.
I've always liked 12-letter words
better than 4-letter ones.
--Kate Coombs, 2011, all rights reserved
HYACINTH
ReplyDeleteThere is no certainty--
much is contingent on
the caprice of sun
and showers.
Yet, within its crinkling
purple paper thin skin
the heart of the bulb
aligns itself.
With a persistent push
heavenly green rewards
whatever gods exist
in the firmament.
Then, with a jubilation
of pink, an acclamation
of fragrance--hosanna,
hosanna, hosanna--
Spring!
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved
I've been forcing a bulb this past month. I'll post a picture on Random Noodling on Friday.
Hi Tricia ~ I started a poem last week about my poetry residency with a wonder-filled class of 4th graders and this challenge helped me to finish it. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteFRESH PICKED WORDS
I lie in bed
staring at the idle
ceiling fan languishing
through winter's long months
now on vacation from its
usual summer gig
and I consider
what kernel of
wonder dare I share
with the fourth graders
tomorrow what new view
of poetry can I plant
into hearts of these
fledgling poets
these gleaners of
fresh engaging words
that scatter before them
ready to be picked.
© Carol Weis, all rights reserved
I have decided to publish my first digital collection of poems, Crackles of Speech. Please email me at stevenwithrow@yahoo.com if you’d like to receive a free PDF of the book. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteSteven
Late again, but... Here's a verse I wrote a long time ago that might fit this category:
ReplyDeleteClouds
Then blinding white
against pure blue;
Now curtains,
gunmetal grey.
Once opening me
to open you;
Now shutting
our dreary day.
But I've pushed through
the heavy drapes;
The blue's still there,
I've spied!
You should see
the brilliant shapes
Just up there,
on the sunny side!
Copyright 1997 Terrell Shaw
All rights reserved