Write 7 small (3-5 lines), disparate poems with a mysterious ending.
If I were a cat
with 9 lives
would I would live eight of them
The trees bend and bow
to each other.
The wind dances with them.
Who plays the violin?
The air hangs heavy as a magician's cape,
full of rabbits and scarves and half-sawn bodies.
Lightning is the severing wand.
What calls forth the magic?
Why does a cat
choose to drink a dirty puddle
when a bowl of clean water
sits just inside the open door?
I would like to wake up
some morning in another world.
Would I crave coffee then
or long to run?
People only see
what we let them see.
In turn we only see
what we allow ourselves
How is it
the wind always knows
which way to blow?
How a poem gets started...
Start with a chair.
Wonder who sat in it
and chipped off, with a fingernail,
a piece of paint shaped like
Did someone sit opposite and drum
his fingers impatiently,
beating a nervous tattoo of sound
on the scarred table?
Why has one chair fallen over?
Listening hard, I heard
underneath the unremitting, pounding rain
the dawn-call of a rooster,
and under that the bark of a small dog.
Beneath that a mourning dove spoke,
and then a daffodil opened.
Too soft to hear,
a worm tunneled beneath a blade of grass,
and a cloud's shadow drifted across the yard.
The music of the spheres is a constant,
ever-changing symphony of movement,
of water on earth on rock on air,
like a cricket's wings
rubbing together in the stilly dark.