Last week I wrote about the project sponsored by the Academy of American Poets in which they supplied poets with blank postcards and asked them to fill them in, in any way that struck their fancy, and mail them back. (You can see the results at Poets Via Post.)
This got me wondering about what my postcard from summer would look like. So, that's your challenge. Write a poem, "find" a poem, draw a picture, or stretch in some other way, but share with us your poetic postcard from summer. Leave me a note about your work and I'll post the results here later this week.
Dear Child,
ReplyDeleteWhy have you put your shoes on?
The water's still warm
and the seagulls are hungry
for dropped bits of tuna sandwich.
Crabs explore crumbling castles,
while the grass above the dunes
is still soft for sandy feet.
My sun still glows like a yellow kite
in the blue sweep of sky.
So why have you gone inside
and shut the doors behind you?
Why are the bells ringing?
Won't you please come back?
Your friend,
Summer
--Kate Coombs, 2011, all rights reserved
Traveling Team
ReplyDeleteBy Steven Withrow
Autumn is coming:
insurgent geese
invade a soggy
soccer pitch,
cronking out
the local crows
for a rematch
of last year’s
raucous rout.
©2011 Steven Withrow, all rights reserved
Kate, that was quite clever. A postcard. From Summer.
ReplyDeleteSteven, perfect word choice in "cronk". Great imagery.
I like the idea of asking students for "just a postcard." Perhaps reluctant writers will find themselves up to the task, and advanced writers will select their words and phrases with more care.
My summer vacation spot is off the grid in the Boundary Waters of Minnesota. The local radio station, WELY, will send personal and emergency messages to campers and paddlers. Here's a Audio Postcard haiku my wife sent while awaiting my return.
I picked the last two
Blueberries from our garden.
Blue without you here.
Fishing
ReplyDeleteby Barbara J. Turner
daylight ends
pink and pearl
as waves curl
over our lines
and we chat
in aluminum chairs
aware our bait
was taken long ago
but we don’t care
about the fish
we don’t wish
for mackerel and flounder
it’s the fishing, you see
and reminiscing
about all the ones
that got away
c2011,Barbara J. Turner, all rights reserved
SUMMER WRITES:
ReplyDeleteTime out,
blossom
falling
wind nippy
geese vees
calling.
Nights draw in,
days grow
short,
children turn
to autumn
sport.
School doors
open,
beaches
close.
End of me
I suppose.
xxxSummer
PS See you next year.
©2011 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
HUMID AIR
ReplyDeleteHumid air, wet skin,
I can't wait for Fall
to begin.
(c) Charles Waters 20ll all rights reserved