Lovely and talented Irene Latham has the Poetry Friday round up this third Friday of Poetry Month. Thanks to Irene for hosting, and it's double duty for her today because she also is adding the next line to her Progressive Poem. See the line-up to the right of this page, and go to her blog, Live Your Poem, to see the newest line and find all other's poetry contributions. If you want to discover even more links to Poetry Month events, click on the page above!
A giveaway to note! Visit the Teaching Authors website for a terrific giveaway. I'll post again in the coming days!
A poem begins with a lump in the throat. ~Robert Frost
However, this is not supposed to be a weather report, but a sharing of poetry. On Monday, in the snow, I went to the library to pick up a few books I had requested, and they had a wonderful display of at least twenty-five large envelopes, each holding a poem to read and share on Poem In Your Pocket Day, which was Thursday. I had similar plans for this day, but had to go out of town suddenly, and didn't get to do this for school, so I'm going to share several poems with you, for your own pockets, if you wish.
Rain in Missouri can go on for days. And this time, it did and was still raining as we left the airport yesterday morning. In Colorado, if you would have one of those kind of days, you would celebrate. In Missouri, you might not necessarily listen to the person in this first poem, but in Colorado, it could be quite enticing.
This poem is Rain, by Raymond Carver. It begins:
Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.
The rest is here:
A few weeks ago, David L. Harrison announced the word of the month for April writers to use as a prompt word; the word is "fragrance". Those who wish to write a poem with the "prompt" word leave it in the comments and everyone responds to each poem. Here at home we had just had a rainy night, and since we have needed moisture in our semi-arid habitat and are lucky to get a rainy "hour", I went outside to "take in" this little rain. It was too cold to stay too long, but enough time to "breathe in" a poem.
Here is my original poem,
I stepped out to the side porch,
put recycles in the bin.
The train blew its warning
from tracks far west.
The crow blustered;
the chickadee called.
Leftover garden leaves scattered.
I never thought I would use
the word petrichor –anywhere.
Do you know it? The nose does,
and twitches with the fragrance of rain,
the first smell.
Petrichor, in a drought
(c) Linda Baie, April 2013