Here is the strange and fascinating fact I used to help write a poem: Leonardo da Vinci was a vegetarian and animal rights activist, he would buy caged birds and set them free.
Tweet, I hear from the marketplace
I follow the sad sweet music to a stall
I look upon the sad face
It tweets the saddest tune
Locked in a cage the bird sits
I take my purse; produce a coin
I take the cage in my hand
I walk from the marketplace
Down we go to far away
An open field I finally stop
I open caged door
Fly free bird, fly free, take to the wind
I’ve done my duty to free the caged bird
Bird takes to wind; flaps it’s wings thank you
Then it is gone; another caged bird free
I sit, staring out window.
Watching who is passing by.
Nothing escapes my watchful eye.
I finally see something of fancy;
Placing two front paws on window sill.
I poke my snout so close to window;
I leave my breath mark.
Out a bark comes, then another;
Then a whine I begin to vent;
Venting my frustration that is inside me.
Wishing to be outside instead.
A push off window,
Off I go, running around house.
Back to window To see if it is there.
Yes it is and here I go;
Repeat of my venting
As I run around some more.
I am a crazy window watcher,
Who loves to see what is going on.
I chose this Plath poem: February 1, 1963: “Words”
Echos travels across the howling desert
On winds they travel far and wide
Hungry to reach the other end
To send a message of which I don’t know
Their words are an empty blur
Only if you listen carefully
Can you dissect what they might say
My four sides where two are unequal in length.
I am trapezoid boxing all with my unequal shape.
Trap people into thinking I made be the rectangle;
No, I am not even the four-equal sided square; but
I have my tricks to trap all who are in classes of math.
My 4 angles are acute as ever they will be so very small.
Two long lines on either side contain the very same length
Last two side not so much; one small and other longest still
I am called a quadrilateral because my four lines are like so
You find me hiding, waiting to spring my trap out of geometry
I lurk between the pages of calculus for trapping is what I do best
Found in architecture all round the world you will find me there.
Look at windows or building built wider at base and tapering to top
Will find me with many other great building wonders around there
I am in toys from beginner to advanced; I have trapped all in my travels
Look closely on animals, draw a line, pop up I will come springing a trap
For, I am trapezoid, two unequal length lines and trapping is what I do best
April 29th Prompt: Write a poem about a geometric shape in the form of the shape itself. Circles, squares, and rectangles are all fair game, but consider too a rhomboid, parallelogram, isosceles triangle, obtuse triangle, trapezoid, or octagon.
Hope to see you soon as we finish a week on our adventure. We walked
through dense trees snapping photos as we went. Nature surrounded us
at every corner. Through lens they stared at us. Waterfalls refreshed
the gloom of forest. Natures beauty at its finest. Quietly watch wild
animals at their play. Saw dynamic clouds with sunset as the day closed
to an end. Will show photos of our exciting adventure. See you very soon!
You say I don’t write my poems in the conventional way
Of poets that have gone before me.
That my first work of twelve poems, Leaves of Grass, was in a jumble.
That there was nothing poetic about them
Except each line began with a capital letter.
You saw that there was no rhyming or meter.
My lines varied with wildly uneven length.
I wanted to free my lines from strict verses that had become archaic.
I experimented with the art of writing from the normal way that I saw around me.
I used my line breaks based on the way it would be printed.
You still say it is not poetry at all.
My poems having no pattern in their sights.
But, did you take the time to read them?
Did you ponder what was there at all?
Do you see the energy and individualism that I write my poems?
I wrote about the working classes.
The major events that shaped our time.
I talked about things you dared to talk about in public.
You critics of my time won’t understand the way I write my works of poems.
I hope our future will read and understand what I wrote.
April 28th Prompt: Write a poem in the form of a letter from a famous poet, explaining something everyone has gotten wrong about a poem or some aspect of his or her work.
I turned sixteen in humid summer months
Wished for a car for my birthday
Hoping for one to make me feel independent;
To let me go where I wanted to go
Not be tied down by parent or friend
I didn’t care if were old or new
Just my own car for me to use
No, car for me waited on birthday day;
No, note to say we would find one;
No, spoken words about getting a car
Sad disappointment that I would have to wait
Who would know when I would get a car for myself
April 27th Prompt: Write about something you wanted when you were 16 years old that you never got. Or, write about something you wanted and got at that age but didn’t expect.