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.
Wrote this earlier in the year but it seems to fit here.
ReplyDeleteShowing 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
Why aren't there any I love this buttons?
DeleteThanks for sharing this, Jane. I'll remember now why I should show up.
ReplyDeleteOh my, Jane. A good, breath-catching poem.
ReplyDeleteSeashells
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
Dynamite ending, Kate. Speaking of Oh mys!
ReplyDeleteI'd never have thought to bring those opening lines there. Wow!
Jane
losing heart ( x2)
ReplyDeletewho 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
It's late in the week, but here's my contribution:
ReplyDeleteSKY
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.
Bravo to all! It's amazing how each poet creates something so amazing from one short phrase.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jane! (Just got back from a conference.) Great stuff, all! And Julie, now I REALLY want to go to Rome.
ReplyDeleteI LOST MY HEART
ReplyDeleteI 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.
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....
ReplyDeleteImagine 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.