Today there were two prompts to choose from: “message in a bottle” or write an acrostic poem where each line starts with a word that, when read down, reads as its own line of original or classic poetry, or a headline, etc.
I had energy to do short poems for both (or maybe I was just procrastinating…).
The first, a “message in a bottle” micro:
message in a bottle
is an easier word
to say than accept
And the second, with war and atrocity so heavy on my mind, I wrote an acrostic (below) that takes title and line inspiration from “The Soldier” by Rupert Brooke, which you can read here.
In Some Corner of a Foreign Field
If there is one benefit of war, to the snarling wounds of those who are caught,
I can’t see it. I will never forget her hand, edge of the photograph cutting off what
should be grasping a hot latte, or brushing her son’s hair before school. Thriving. To
die is always our fate, but not like this. No one should. When I can’t
think about it anymore — (she was wearing a watch, a wedding band) — can’t have
only these images of life stilled, stopped, in
this most horrifying way, I turn up my music, sweep the floor, make a list
of everything I need on my weekly grocery run, wallow in some life of
me that seems, now, utterly selfish and necessary.