During National Poetry Month I am attempting to write a poem a day. Some I will post, some I won’t. I am drawing inspiration from a number of online sources. Today’s poem is a result of a prompt given at #verselove on ethicalela.com. Kim Johnson, Ed.D. provide today’s inspiration when she told us to “imagine being in a small coffee shop among friends” who are catching up and to share something about ourselves.

Weekend Coffee Share Poem

If we were having coffee…
My drink would be black tea
or maybe a chai latte.

If we were having coffee…
We would catch up
on the aches & pains
of our aging bodies
which would morph into
a discussion about which
Medicare plan we were choosing
Since this year we will turn
That magical number 65.

If we were having coffee…
We would talk about our grandchildren
and expound on all the wonderful things
the loves of our lives are doing
and how full if life they
make us feel.

If we were having coffee…
We’d discuss the latest
books we were reading,
and I would tell you
to add Mad Honey
to your list.

If we were having coffee…
I would make sure
we got out our calendars
and made another “coffee” date
sooner rather than later.

The wind whistles
its ominous warning
through the not quite closed
storm window –
a precursor
to the impending
thunderstorms and high winds
Nature’s way of telling us
to stay in
hunker down
be vigilant

I am working on my poetry muscles this month by joining #verselove at ethicalela.com. Today’s model was a Cherita, a poem that tells a story or tale. The form consists of three stanzas- one line in the first, two in the second, and three in the third. I had been thinking about a topic all morning when after lunch it just hit me – figuratively and literally!

Latte – A Little or A Lot?

I was bemoaning the fact that I had nothing to write about.

Fortunately or unfortunately a little story found me. I was looking forward to a chai latte after lunch on this bleak and rainy day.

I loaded up my Keurig and anticipated the warm beverage. So much so that I fumbled the cup and spilled most of it on the counter and onto the floor. Should I be satisfied with the three mouthfuls I saved or brew another cup?

Across the sky,
it writes its name
in the darkness.
HOPE

In the stars
I see sparks
of my dreams.
HOPE

In the stars
I see smiles
Of my lost loved ones
HOPE

In the stars
I see bright eyes
Of future generations
HOPE

In the stars
I see flashes
Of peace
HOPE

Today we had a middle school club period; I moderate the Poetry Workshop. Our focus today was on color poems. First the students did a quick write about their favorite color, and then I shared Hailstones and Halibut Bones by Mary O’Neill. If you don’t know this book, you must check it out. It is a beautifully written and illustrated collection of color poems. Below is my quick draft that I wrote while the kids were writing their color poems.

PURPLE

Purple is royal and regal and proud.
It can be muted, or it can be loud.

In the kitchen purple can be small or big
Eggplants and onions; cabbage and fig

Purple is hyacinths, verbena, and aster.
It’s also in sunsets over the pasture.

If you’re Prince, you see purple in the rain.
If you’re clumsy, you see it after the pain.

Purple has many names; here are some:
amethyst, lavender, magenta, and plum.

What’s your favorite color? Why?

#nationalpoetrymonth #verselove #PAD

Today’s poem is a triolet. “A triolet has 13th century French roots linked to the rondeau or “round” poem. It is an eight line poem.

A (first line)
B (second line)
a (rhymes with first line)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with first line)
b (rhymes with second line)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line) (Writer’s Digest)

Here is my draft of a triolet.

Mountain Climbing

The stairs are always cruel to me
my Mt. Everest for sure
one at a time, knee by knee
The stairs are always cruel to me
I hate that others have to see
that climbing stairs has become a chore
The stairs are always cruel to me
my Mt. Everest for sure.

#poemaday #verselove #nationalpoetrymonth

Today’s poem is a Cinquain. “Inspired by tanka, the cinquain is comprised of 2 syllables in the first line, 4 in the second line, 6 in the third, 8 in the fourth, and 2 in the fifth. Plus, poets have the freedom to add or subtract one syllable from each line.” (Writer’s Digest)

This is my draft of a cinquian.

Tuesday
feels like Monday
first day back after break
the countdown to the end of school
begins.