I love odes. I suppose most poets or poetry lovers do, but I confess I have never been very good at writing them. An ode to something indulgent is the prompt over at This Is Not A Poetry Journal today, and though I wish I could indulge, the ode-thoughts just aren’t coming at the moment. I was reminded of poet Elizabeth Zetlin’s ode to that loved and hated mark of punctuation: the apostrophe.
The NaPoWriMo prompt gives a nod to the famous Eliot line about April being the cruelest month, but I already covered my thoughts on that a few days ago. However, I do have a month that I view as the cruelest: February. Last year, at the start of March I wrote a rally against February, and a praise of March (almost an ode?), which you can read here, if you’re so inclined.
Finally, the Poetic Asides prompt to write about “distance” had me thinking micro-sized again, so here are my small words for a large space:
wishing on stars
distant train whistle
brings us down to earth