Monday, March 19, 2012

Monday Poetry Stretch - I Left My Heart

Last week's prompt was titled "I Left My Head." Folks wrote some really wonderful poems about faulty memories and absent-mindedness. This week I want to write about where we've left our hearts, and the unusual things or places that have captured them. A few years ago I lost my heart to Tibet. Watching the news and reading about events there makes me realize I've lost my heart to a place I may never return. As a child I lost my heart to books. Each fall I lose my heart to school supplies. Yes, I love bouquets of sharpened pencils. And don't get me started on chocolate ...

So, to who, what, or where have you lost your heart? Leave me a note about your poem and I'll share the results later this week.


  1. Wrote this earlier in the year but it seems to fit here.

    Showing Up

    Where is it written that one should be present?
    On the heart, in the belly, with a lover in bed,
    in one’s work, with the children, at their births,
    at their school plays (even the ones so bad
    it makes it hard to look at the stage),
    breathing in, breathing out.
    My husband taught me this.
    “Show up,” he said.
    I held his hand as he died.
    Sometimes showing up
    is the hardest thing to do.

    ©2012 Jane Yolen, all rights reserved

    1. Why aren't there any I love this buttons?

  2. Thanks for sharing this, Jane. I'll remember now why I should show up.

  3. Oh my, Jane. A good, breath-catching poem.


    They sit on my desk, snail makings
    curved and smooth, ridged, elongated,
    spiked, moon like. From creatures
    that never would have swum together,
    crawled the same ocean floors. Bones
    winding around emptiness, making
    poems out of air instead of water.

    --Kate Coombs, 2012
    all rights reserved

  4. Dynamite ending, Kate. Speaking of Oh mys!

    I'd never have thought to bring those opening lines there. Wow!


  5. losing heart ( x2)

    who hasn’t lost
    a heart (or two)
    for one last glimpse
    of salt-shaker snow
    (in early March
    when the lilies show),
    for one last taste of
    summer fruit (pomegranate
    seeds, drenched in juice),
    for one last peal of
    playground yells
    (in autumn when
    the pumpkins swell)
    for one last trace of lilac-scent
    (in April, as the world unbends)—
    and who hasn’t lost
    a heart (or two)
    to his one true love
    (you know who).

    (c) julie krantz 2012, all rights reserved

  6. It's late in the week, but here's my contribution:


    So blue, so Roman,
    and I thought
    I had it right,
    coming home without it,
    leaving it behind
    so I could long for it.

    I was nineteen,
    drama queen with a diary,
    what can I say, but
    I got it wrong
    so these long years later
    I'm still looking up
    trying to find that cupola,

    I mean, what a way
    to let in the light,
    really there's never been
    any other lover
    like that sky for me,
    pressing up against me,
    so close at dusk--

    when its breath blew
    on the umbrella pines,
    I heard bells everywhere,
    and I watched the birds
    fly straight up into it,
    and now, that sky,

    so blue, so Roman,
    how I still long for it.

  7. Bravo to all! It's amazing how each poet creates something so amazing from one short phrase.

  8. Thanks, Jane! (Just got back from a conference.) Great stuff, all! And Julie, now I REALLY want to go to Rome.


    I lost my heart playing the lead part
    in our school play today.

    I lost my heart in a shopping cart
    Shooing customers away.

    I lost my heart in a work of art
    a painting my Monet.

    I lost my heart letting out a fart
    in front of Sister Kaye.

    I lost my heart in a pastry cart
    at my favorite cafe.

    I lose my heart whenever I start
    to live life in my own way.

    (c) Charles Waters 2012 all rights reserved.

  10. I found this poems among my others but don't recall writing it --memory is going. If you've seen it elsewhere, please let me know but I do recognize my voice which makes me feel safe releasing it. My love going out to Trisha and her family....

    Imagine I write this for you
    Right from my womb
    The birds make their music
    Words are in bloom
    Were you my blood, my brother,
    Name it heirloom.
    A sudden bath of an irises’ perfume
    The warm worms borrow deep
    And I am happy for care to be gone--
    Don a carnival costume!
    Wild hat made of mushroom, legume,
    And parrot’s plume --
    When finished I’ll go home—
    Spend my ashes to the wind—
    Born of a cynet’s tune,
    My wings spent wide, a
    Heft and lift from gloom.