So Easy – So Scary

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Deadline

[For today's prompt, write a deadline poem. You can interpret what a deadline poem is however you wish. Maybe it's a poem that laments the idea of deadlines. Maybe it's a poem about someone intentionally missing them or who never has problems with them (I wish I were that person). Regardless of how you take it, remember that you have until tomorrow before another prompt will be posted. Consider that your poetic deadline.]




In an urban trauma center
a gunshot victim
becomes just a portion
of the 2 am bedlam—

the changing of the guard;
EMTs hand off the victim
to the hospital staff—

in a hurried continuum
down a corridor
throw swinging doors
now under bright lights
the crimson soaked shirt
is cut away—

bags to IV tubes refreshed,
monitor hooked up,
orders shouted like barking
from competing street vendors

from here it looks like chaos
but the movement is routine
as a well practiced fire drill.
This is the fifth or sixth gunshot
this week— I lose count
and it’s only Thursday.

“We’re losing him” shouts a voice…
“Stand back,” comes another.
“Clear!” things become
slow motion here. Another,
“clear!”

The red line on the monitor flattens out—
They've reached another deadline;
“Time of death 2:32 a.m.”

The Poetry Deal by Diane di Prima

I found this wonderful piece of writint at SF Gate.  Below I'll leave you with an explanation by the poet laureate of San Francisco Diane di Prima - I could identify with so much of it.  After you read it - follow the link and read "The Poetry Deal"


Diane di Prima is San Francisco's poet laureate. About "The poetry deal:" I committed myself to a life of poetry at the age of 14, as a sophomore in high school. I'd been writing some poetry since I was 7, but to me "commitment" meant that I'd write something every day, and would learn all I could about the craft of the poem. As the years passed, I kept doggedly at it, writing, studying obsessively, and always avoiding classes and workshops. By the time I was 24, I was putting out a book a year. Forty years after that commitment, it occurred to me that - selfless and unquestioning as the creative life is - there actually is something like a contract between me and my art.

click below

The Poetry Deal by Diane di Prima

On Death

[Maybe it's a little too close to tax day, but today's prompt is to write a death poem. You can write about a specific death or consider death as an idea. In the tradition of Emily Dickinson (and other poets), you could even address Death as an entity. Or you can surprise us with a different spin on the subject.]



From birth we commence
with dying. —with no understanding
of this fact or knowledge of what death is.


Our life is wrought with death daily,
we experience it in little things—


first, cheap toys that that break down
and leave us…


the randomness of an ant crushed
under our feet…


the spider your mother took out
with the sole of her shoe…


the naked baby bird
fallen from a nest— it's beak open
it's neck broken.


It becomes more personal
with the death of a pet. A dog
or cat, or turtle… something to which
we've grown attached
up and dies…


and we learn
the deeper meaning of sadness—
more profound than the plastic decoder ring
that was broken and thrown out;
and I think


each time we see death
the world dies a little bit more
for what has passed on


and as children we are often spared
the trip to the funeral home because we are
so young; but at what point…
at what point do any of us
achieve understanding? At what point
do we suddenly have a comfort level?
I think never…


for death stalks us
day in
day out—


it will wait for us.

Unconscious Mutterings Week 376

You say... I think:

• 1.Habit :: Nun
• 2.Relaunch :: Program
• 3.Mondays :: Manic
• 4.Bootstrap :: Pullup
• 5.Funk ::  Mayor
• 6.Appreciate :: Love
• 7.Yay! :: Overjoyed
• 8.Life ::  Sentence
• 9.Sheets ::  Paper
• 10.Date night ::  Friday Night

get your own list here

Jeweled Island

[For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Island," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. You could do a well-known island, such as "Treasure Island," "Ellis Island," or "Total Drama Island." Or you could make up the name of an island. Or you could even have a long drawn out title, such as "You'll never get me on an island" or "If I were on a deserted island."]



Jeweled Island



The beaches, vast in topaz crumbs
sparkle against the morning sunlight
and the deep blue waters ripple in
with a white foam tide.

Coconut trees are heavy with
fire opal fruit and near by
yellow tourmaline bananas
dangle above us.

In the distance, beyond
the lush jaded grasses
mountains of blood stone
and onyx rise high into the sky—

some snowcapped in diamond.

LOVE

[Two for Tuesday time!  Here are today's two prompts:
1. Write a love poem.  2. Write an anti-love poem.]


Love—

feels like a silky blanket
or binky that pacifies—

it's the best fitting jeans we've ever had—

the shoes you almost forget
are on your feet.



Love is—

the exhilaration of free fall—

invigorating as standing beneath
a cascade—

cool as a tall glass of iced tea
on a summer day—

warm as a hot coco & marshmallows
on a winter night—

it can rage like a forest fire engulfing—

it can race the heart at a 1000 RPM—

but even then, it is the peace that breaks out
like a rash inside you.