I was given a book of love poems (Shelley) when I was a teen. My response then was ... YUCK! Thirty+ years later, my opinion hasn't changed much. I'm not a big fan of love poetry, but I am a big fan of odes. I enjoy reading about the things people obsess over. I could read poems about birds, a favorite pencil, dad's chair, and lots of other things you can name, over and over. So, while I'm not about the mushy, heartfelt, loving another human being desperately, kind of poem, I do appreciate other kinds of love.
This week let's write an ode to your favorite pair of slippers, an old t-shirt, that ticket stub collection, or anything else that floats your boat. What thing do you love? I can't wait to read your poems.
Short Love Poem To My Granddaughter’s Amazing Grades
ReplyDeleteHer grade from me is A+
and has been from the beginning,
so your acknowledgement of her brains,
like her mirror’s nod to her beauty,
is only a ditto mark, a brava
after the theater has been cleared.
Gild meet lily.
©2012 Jane Yolen All Rights Reserved
Love the poem, Jane!
ReplyDeleteThere's a state reservation in Sutton, Massachusetts, where my wife and I have hiked in the summer and fall. I've never been there in winter, but I imagine it would be a dolorous place, morosely beautiful.
Purgatory Chasm
By Steven Withrow
Climb an elm limb,
Slow now, on a bowed bough,
Out over a jagged crag.
This granite gorge
Gouged ages past by a blast
Of glacial meltwater,
Not so soul-cleansing
As claims its expiating name,
Remains ravine rock
Riven in a dim bend
Of limbo, ice-dammed cataracts
Called Corn Crib,
Coffin, Devil’s Pulpit,
Charley’s Loop, Lovers’ Leap,
Fat Man’s Misery,
Such malformations
Of stone and petrified sand.
Move hand over hand
To the branch-break
And, reaching there, breathe in
Winter’s indifferent air.
©2012 Steven Withrow, all rights reserved
Good stuff, Jane and Steven!
ReplyDeleteWord Love
"CUMBERSOME,"
says a man on TV.
The word bumbles,
arms full of m's and b's,
falling over footstools.
My son's new favorite
is WILLY NILLY.
Last month's crush
was PLETHORA. Will he?
Nil he. Silly billy.
Open the dictionary:
Latin roots mumble
like monks, French ones
slip their arms around
your neck. Anglo Saxon roots
run at you berserk,
battle axes raised.
Only one unrooted
new word in a century:
COPACETIC, glad dancing
brainchild of Mr. Bojangles.
Today my tongue
likes the taste of DAWN,
and CUMULONIMBUS,
and EPIPHANY.
But my favorite word
is SERENDIPITY.
--Kate Coombs 2012,
all rights reserved
Here's a revision of a poem I may have subbed before...
ReplyDeleteOde to Feet
flipping
flopping
on the floor
are two sweet
feet
that I adore.
they run me
here,
they run me
there,
they run me almost
everywhere!
a curly pink
bouquet of toes,
they please
my eyes but
not my nose—
so though
they’re mostly
’neath my chair,
I thank you, feet,
for being there.
(c) 2012 julie krantz, all rights reserved
Old, Brown Scarf
ReplyDeleteWho would guess
You’re my prize
Possession, the one
I refuse to lose. Dear,
Old, brown scarf,
Ugly and rough, only
I know your secret
Appeal. It’s my neck
You defend, keeping
Frigid winds from
Breathing down my
Collar. When I wrap
Myself in you I wrap
Myself in the man
Who wants me safe
In his absence.
(c) Liz Steinglass, all rights reserved
Well, I started with a WHAT, but as you can see the WHO snuck in at the end, as he often does. Kate, I've been thinking about a favorite word poem too. Funny how that happens. Enjoyed the others as well. Liz
So far I love EVERY poem. And Liz--I have a WHO who slips into a many of my poems, too. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteJane
Girl Scout Cookies
ReplyDeleteJust when I think
I've conquered
the Christmas calories,
tamed the sweet beast
hiding in my belly,
you arrive in the February frost
like the darkest purple crocus
begging me to crouch low and smell
the chocolate smeared on your sleeve,
waving your thin sin
beneath my nose.
I weigh the consequences,
waver,
obey your siren call.
hilarious.
Delete"Thin sin". . .oh yes.
ReplyDeleteJane
MY KEEPSAKE
ReplyDeleteTattered, discolored,
Laminated memory ...
First baseball ticket.
(c) Charles Waters 2012 all rights reserved.