I returned to my old notebooks today to find my writing. So many are half filled. Bits and pieces of writing, and writing lessons – ones I have taught or were taught to me as part of writing classes I have taken.
- A poem of senses – What do I hear? see? feel? and smell?
- Smell – I smell the soil beneath my feet, soft, squishing leaves, and molding moss clinging to the rotting trunk as the cool fog drifts past
- See – I see the bright green of young pine trees jumping out at us as we move. The red leaves slowing turing to fall brown as other colors fade in the cool morning air.
- Hear – I hear Garcia slip past me as the leaves crunch, and the soil squishes. The sounds fade for a moment as she barks. Silence before the songs of the forest return.
- A poem hides – where do poems hide?
- A poem hides in the fibers of wool gloves where my fingers warm.
- A poem hidden inside the heat and sweat of hands working the shovel of snow
- A poem hides in the leather of my sons oversized shoes. Shoes that carry him as he weaves through his day.
- Showing not telling –
Jar by Jar
Bubbling, splattering, steaming
mush in the pot
leaving a brown spice aroma
hot steam lifts up
four youthful adults make light work
peeling, cooking, blending
their voices sharing time current and past
these four have been at this kitchen
a tradition since they were born
turning, basting, stirring
as soon as they could stand
jar by jar they work
filling thoughts of family escapades
quite readings and laughing
each jar hold a little lemon juice
that sour moment of
sadness, anger or fear
that we hold between friends
that preserves the sauce
those thirty jars now set to cool
sealing their friendship
waiting for the final ping of the lid
telling us we will all return
near year for homemade
Can you create a poem using your senses or a poem hidden some place or one that just shows not tells?