I’ve got a prompt meld going on today between the Poetic Asides suggestion to write a Three _____ poem, and the This Is Not A Literary Journal challenge to “write what the trees know,” Here’s what grew:
Three Things Our Poplar Tree Knows
That when hoar frost swaddles
its bald branches, the day will be
defined by silence. Words we’ve used
so often to sting, turn soft and
crystalline on our tongues.
That the damp cloak of decayed leaves
still draped on the grass at the start of
spring, will smell both fetid and fresh.
The contrast and symmetry that used
to define us.
That its softening middle, the spongy
bend of boughs once strong and rigid,
are not reasons to mourn. Heart rot,
a harsh name for the feeling inside:
change. Touch the caramel-coloured
conks embellishing its trunk.
Listen when it tells us
the great beauty of loss
Lastly, the NaPoWriMo site suggests a fan letter poem to a celebrity. I’ve composed many gushing letters in my brain to Trent Reznor, but never attempted to put them to paper. Perhaps a project for this afternoon….whilst listening to NIN, of course.