NaPoWriMo ~ catching up (7)


It’s interesting how a prompt becomes its own poem. If we’re lucky. 😏 This NaPoWriMo prompt had lengthy instructions, which I followed carefully. Here they are:

Finally, our prompt for the day (optional as always) comes to us from Elizabeth Boquet of Oaks to Acorns. In keeping with the fact that it’s the seventh day of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo, Elizabeth and I challenge you to write a poem about luck and fortuitousness. For inspiration, take a look at Charles Simic’s “The Betrothal” and Stephen Dunn’s “The Arm”. Need something more? Perhaps these instructions from Elizabeth will get you going!

Create the following lists:

1. List 1 – 3 random objects. (Smaller tends to be better.)
2. List 1 – 3 random but specific locations. (Think in the cookie jar, or under my seat…)
3. List 1 – 2 objects you’ve lost and a few notes on their back-story.
4. List 1- 2 objects you’ve found and few notes on their back-story.

Now, choose an object from List 1, a location from List 2, and connect them in a poem with ideas from Lists 3 & 4 and Voilà! A fortuitous poem! As an example of a finished “fortuitous” poem, here is Elizabeth’s own “State of Grace”.

So I did all that. And began a poem about amaryllis seeds… From one of my 3 words, ‘seed.’ And then a memory of a box I’d discovered in our recent cross-country move surfaced, and an entirely different poem had to be written. Fortuitous indeed. Here it is:

Lost & found

Hidden under the eaves
In boxes unopened for decades
Mantled in dust
I found their childhoods
My son who has his own son
My son who follows his father
In nomadic migrations
They are not the same son

They never were
One the observer
Born with a thinshell
Open to the world’s dark spaces
The other held within his own
Almost sufficient self
Hidden from view
Linked only by birth
And the luck of our good
Fortune: love and fish and trees

In old photos the years are dust
Two boys hold plastic swords
Pose for a long-lost camera
Stand by a house once loved
Caught in the web that time and age
Weave around their captive faces
This box I almost discarded
Filled with old and golden light

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