I've committed myself to writing a poem a day for 30 days on a site called National Poetry Writing Month. Some may say I should be committed...
But I think it will be fun. I will have to write a poem, which I have really started doing a lot recently, and at the end of the month I will have enough poems for a small chapbook, if I include some of my earlier ones.
I've already participated in the Sunday Random Line Poetry Project, in which poets send in a line or two of poetry to a woman in a private Facebook message, who then compiles them into a poem in the order they come in. No editing. We have done this for 52 weeks, each Sunday for a year, and now we have a book of 52 poems, each written by an average of ten poets, which we will sell to benefit the "starving artists" among us.
It has been amazing to see how well the poems hang together, none of us knowing what topic will emerge, none of us even knowing each other except through the group.
And now, another challenge! What fun!
Watch this space.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
Ache
The Gypsy Mama blog site has a five minute Friday where other bloggers can write on a topic and submit it. Here's mine, on the topic, "Ache":
My sons are adults. They are making their own choices now - some good, some bad. Watching the consequences unfold is achingly difficult. I used to be able to protect them. Now I can only stand by and cheer from the sidelines or provide comfort when they stumble back.
When one reveals a possible calling, my heart aches with love and hope that this one, always a caring child, can continue to help others as he always has, and that he won't be buffeted by life in the process.
When one stumbles in his resolve and is despairing, I ache that I can't fix it for him, like I used to with a Bandaid and a kiss. I must watch as he gets up yet again and tries.
I love my children. But they aren't babies anymore. I must let them stand up as men, though my heart aches sometimes. They will be all right, and one day they will watch their children grow and ache for them, too.
My sons are adults. They are making their own choices now - some good, some bad. Watching the consequences unfold is achingly difficult. I used to be able to protect them. Now I can only stand by and cheer from the sidelines or provide comfort when they stumble back.
When one reveals a possible calling, my heart aches with love and hope that this one, always a caring child, can continue to help others as he always has, and that he won't be buffeted by life in the process.
When one stumbles in his resolve and is despairing, I ache that I can't fix it for him, like I used to with a Bandaid and a kiss. I must watch as he gets up yet again and tries.
I love my children. But they aren't babies anymore. I must let them stand up as men, though my heart aches sometimes. They will be all right, and one day they will watch their children grow and ache for them, too.
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