When I say I started writing young, I mean it. See picture above. My first ever story, I now know, is called micro-fiction, was written at age seven. But, my first love is poetry. Maybe it’s the need to get things down on paper all at once. Maybe its the cadence of the lines and stanzas. But, through it all, a little girl sat at a desk, her legs swinging as she wrote.
And now April, National Poetry Month has captured my attention.
Dear readers, forgive me, you were supposed to be getting snippets from Three-Part Harmony this week. Don’t worry though, we’re only off schedule a week. But, since poems have once again captured my heart, here are a couple I’d like to share with you.
For 11 days, poets have logged in to Writer’s Digest Poetics Aside Blog and have a prompt. Here are some favorites.
The Greener Grass of Tarnished Gold
They say the grass is greener, on the other side
So, I jumped the fence and looked around
And found not much more besides a little lake
Of sapphire blue. It reflected back from whence I had come
And not to be outdone, the grass glowed green, burnished under
The evening sun.
My eyes saw gold and once more I felt, a need take hold
And beckon me back.
I straddled the fence with an eye to the lake
This was just too much to take.
As the night grew dark and the moon cast its shadows,
I saw the truth in midnight blue.
Diamond stars. Emerald hues under the softened light.
The night grew colder and I hunched over, the weight of need, want, and
Not haves pushing for attention and desire.
Under its ire, I grew angry, and as the new day dawned, a realization struck.
It wasn’t in nature to wish for more. A perspective shifted and a thought took hold.
The greener grass on the other side was nothing more than tarnished gold.
A Life on Loan
How do we spend our borrowed time?
With friends and family or online?
The breath of life is but a loan,
How we spend it is our own.
Struggles, strife, and crushing weight
Find us cursing at the gate.
“The time,” St. Peter explained, “is not real.
It offers only, a time to heal.”
He smiled then and offered a hand
“Let me ask you this,” he began.
“How do you spend your borrowed time?
With friends and family or online?”
Silence gave me away
He nodded, not surprised I had nothing to say.
“Remember, please,” he began again, “this single tune,
The breath of life is but a loan
How you spend it is your own.”
Thanks to my Dad for his extra special birthday gift this year! Photos from so long ago and in each one a grin from ear to ear. More to follow as we get back to the regular snippets of Three-Part Harmony next week.