At the risk of squandering any chances of later publication, I have decided to post the poems I am writing each day as part of the Writer's Digest "Poem A Day Challenge" here on my blog. Of course, after you read them, you might conclude there isn't much I'm risking.
If any readers are interested in joining the effort, the blogsite is at http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/ . A daily prompt is provided and participants are left on their honor to write a poem each day during April which is National Poetry Month. Guidelines are provided on the site.
My apologies for not thinking about this yesterday. So, today you will get two poems. With luck, I'll be able to keep up with the daily prompts.
Yesterday's prompt was to write a lonely poem. The second prompt (for today) is to write a poem about water. Enjoy.
April 1: Write a lonely poem.
Lone-ly Is What We Make It
By Bill Kirk
"Lonely" is a lonely word—
Quite unlike any other.
Its closest kin are worlds apart
For "lonely" has no brother.
Other words with "lone" inside
Don't get the same reaction.
For "lonely" hurts but all the rest
Suggest some satisfaction.
Loners are their own best friends
"Who cares who's angry at us?"
For they can be alone, you see—
Quite happy with their status.
Even those more social need
Their respite from the rabble.
To gain relief from crush and press—
Choose quiet over babble.
In the end we'll be alone,
Each left to make our choices:
Let fear abide or be at peace—
Rob "lonely" of its voices.
April 2: Write a water poem.
By Bill Kirk
Our lives are like an endless stream
Flowing from our source—
A well-spring of vitality
As we live and learn and love.
We would do well to practice those three “Ls”,
Wouldn’t you say?
As with water, is there not
A certain inevitability in life?
Do we not live in pursuit of our own level—
Our own happiness abundant?
Sometimes it seems to come in drips and drops;
Other times in a rage.
Or in movements so slow and deep
As to almost be
Will we be channeled on this day
Or unbridled, left to find our own way,
Over rocks and roots large and small—
Forming eddies as we swirl and pause?
Yet so profound is the path of our fluid lives,
Do we dare assume
We are in control of our destiny?
Or is the better course to relinquish
To forces unseen and unfathomable,
Knowing no matter what
We will reach our destination?
That’s what water does.