Sunday, April 29, 2018

From a Sunday Morning Write With a Friend

Every Sunday morning a writing friend and I connect via telephone. She suggests a prompt, or I do, and we spend an hour composing poetry and prose. This is what came of this rainy morning's collaboration.

Chorus Line

rain, slipping down
from a colorless sky,

lines its drops
along a branch—

one, three, six,

a chorus line
waiting to perform;

two hydrogen,
one oxygen,

bringing their own light,
their own music,

they wobble, quiver,

the reflections of
everything around them

changing as they fall;
now gray sky,

now crenellated trunk,
now green blades

pushing up from
the thirsty earth.

One Sentence Poem

Compose a poem using these words: molecule, zig-zag, shoestring, calico, quiet, tree

Do molecules follow a zig-zag path
or do they stretch themselves out
like the trunk of a tree,
like a shoestring, a quiet line,
like the thread in a calico quilt
holding everything together?