Yesterday, for my poem a day (#poemadayfeb), I wrote a prose poem based on the theme of ‘first’. The prose poem flowed, and gained a little bit of attention from other poets, online, which was lovely. I didn’t feel like that prose poem was cheating, because quite a bit of thought went into the writing of it, as it does for more ‘form’ related poetry written.
My poem today though, as soon as I saw the prompt, I felt the urge to make it another prose poem, and the words just flowed, and flowed, with only a bare minimum of editing needed, so it really did feel a little bit like cheating – is poetry supposed to be as easy as just thinking a bit and letting the words flow? Really?
If it is allowed to be that easy, is there truly real merit? But of course, the mind that holds all of the ‘stuff’ that flows onto the page/screen, that mind is working hard at scratching up the relevant bits, and piecing them all together in a harmonious way (I hope that’s how it will seem to others, anyway) …
I certainly enjoyed the writing of this prose poem today, but I suspect tomorrow will bring back my more usual poetic format of writing poems in short lines, either rhyming or not … We’ll see what happens when I see tomorrow’s poetry prompt.
So to today’s poem, as I said, another Prose Poem, a shorter one this time, and one that may not have as much impact as yesterday’s prose poem, we shall see. So here it is:
thinking on too many things perhaps? or just the correct number …
I’m almost shivering on this rain & wind struck day, Summer hiding, as I too hide, from the unseasonable cold. Walls holding most of this inclement weather at bay, but the open window on my left, is open to … to what? To let the fresh air in? … as if there probably isn’t already enough air, fresh enough for good health, inside this home, as most comfortable middle-class homes, already have, probably. Especially this home, my home, my rural but not farmhouse home, set amongst farmland, but far enough away from the farms, that I don’t have to worry too much, about bad things blowing in, from any of the agriculturalists’ toxic chemical weaponry, used to assist to bring good food to our nation, keeping unwanted things – fungus, insects, weeds, and so on, at bay … Farming, such a lovely thing, those gentle cows, those placid sheep, from where I watch, anyway – I’m well away from the abattoir, so I can pretend a little bit, and not gag at the idea of meat cooking on the bbq, but enjoy the work of the livestock producers instead … Changing ideas, or back to the original one, really … apparently it will be hot again in the week, an app told me that, when I looked on my mobile source of knowledge, formerly known as a ‘phone’, (which I sometimes actually use to talk to people on, but not often) … anyway looking with my eyes right now, through the opened window on my left, it looks like Summer has signed off for the season, and has let Autumn in, reminding me that climate and seasons, both change …
Carolyn Cordon - Creative 