The March Slice of Life Story Challenge has ended so I’m trying to get back into my own blogging routine which means Poetry on Friday and Silent Sunday, photo only posts on the day thought of as either beginning or ending our week. This schedule, along with a Keto Monday post on occasion and a few extra poetry postings, has worked for me for several years – helping both my myself and my blog to grow, as I continue my journey of daily writing into my fifth year.
On Poetry Friday, the poetry I offer is original 99% of the time. I’ve always felt strange sharing a piece from a book or even from a person I know, such as my son or one of my students. I like to have permission to share creative works, and in most cases cannot said permission regarding the poetry I might want to share. I have, on a limited basis, shared poems with a credit or reference added. In these cases, it seems permissible to do so. But, still, I do it rarely.
So, what you get from me are original poems. They might not be polished or even finished. Most of them need editing for word choice, rhyme, or flow. But, I’ve been trying to avoid perfection and overthinking, so what I post, is most likely a work in progress. I’ve been going back over some of my poetry, editing, and it is slow but satisfying work.
With students, I wrote haiku, cinquain, diamante, bio-poems, and my favorite – free verse color poems. Form and word choice were stressed in the first four types of poetry, as some of them require the use of specific parts of speech. In the last case, color poems, flow was more important than rhyme and my students were always surprised when I encouraged them to write without worrying about the rhyme. It was freeing and they definitely produced some creative work without the constraint of rhyming.
Over the last year, I felt myself becoming more poetic – some weeks, more so than others, of course – but overall, I have grown as a writer and a poet. Reading poetry helps as well, and I’ve done a fair amount of that, too!
One thing is happening, however, that I really do not care for and that is waking during the night from Thursday to Friday with lines and stanza’s of poems floating in my head. I cannot seem to get back to sleep until I get up to write them down.
My starts last night were:
Friendship is a living, breathing thing that
Ebbs and flows
with waves of highs and lows.
© Carol Labuzzetta, draft, 2021.
And,
The walk is long and I feel the distance,
not on the hard calloused soles of my feet,
but in the soft beating of my heart.
© Carol Labuzzetta, draft, 2021.
And, then, this morning, I saw a mourning dove sunning themselves on the concrete border of one of our perennial flower beds.
Mourning Dove
It is a windy day, if it
were not for the sun,
oh, so warm, the
ruffling of my feathers
would send me seeking
shelter in the pines.
I sit here in the open,
hoping not to be noticed,
welcoming the sun like a lost friend.
Although, I do not see her,
the lady of this house,
I sense someone looking at me.
Staring down through the window pane
she looks to capture my image,
staring at how well I’m camouphaglaed
on the warm stone shelf.
She is waiting, I sense that, still.
I don’t move, hoping this presence I feel but
don’t see will move away.
Too afraid to coo,
too afraid to move.
But, the wind ruffles my feathers and gives me away
on this sunny April day.
© Carol Labuzzetta, draft, 2021.
This week, the poetry round up is hosted by Mary Lee at A Year of Reading. Thank you!
The Apples in My Orchard 
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