Double trouble – Day 26.4.2018

 

The Bay 1

 

My Senses; My Dreams

 

My dreams are the expression

of things I have experienced

nothing is new; often recent.

What remains or is renewed

again and again; is what I have

seen and loved.

 

Like the ocean visited yesterday.

I see waves gentle to my toes. Here

in my dream I smell the ocean;

I smell small fish and large

and the seaweed which has

its own happy spot down

the coast. I go there sometimes

to gather it, take it home for

the garden. I sense its richness

as I touch its slimy goodness.

I taste where my next meal

is coming from. This time

the land, the garden I spoke of.

Tomatoes, so rich from barrels

of seaweed sprinkled;  a rich tea

of seaweed. I imagine I hear

the roses thanking me too. A

brush of a velvet petal to thank me.

Now we are back in the garden

hear the birds sing, hear the birds.

I heard them double, sensing they

too had been tickled by velvet,

rose petals touching my dreams.

 

I hear them as I heard other birds

Dipping and diving over those

seaweed beds. No wonder that

now in my dream I have become

a mermaid for the night. I see

the waves tickle her toes. I am

two things at once, seeing,

smelling, touching, tasting. I hear

both of us, the world of my

day and night.

 

Benita Kape © 26.4.2018

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And now for our prompt (optional as always). Taking our cue from today’s craft resource, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses. Try to be as concrete and exact as possible with the “feel” of what the poem invites the reader to see, smell, touch, taste and hear.

Happy writing!

 

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At 25 Days – 25.4.2018

WARNING LABEL  –  at 25 Days

This woman is the couplet she writes,

Sonnet she sings or acrostics activated

 

Weaver of words coming with a warning

Acrostic poems on her radar, she’ll never be remedied

Rondels arouse her irrationally

Nonets make her nervous and nickered, she has cutting edges

Inverted refrains, her change of heart, the warnings grow huge

Newsworthy warnings, twenty-five days’ worth

Gargantuan the warning;  Gra Reformata a new form she found

 

The real warning:  this woman doesn’t get out of bed until noon.

And on the 25th day, she blames poetry.

 

Benita Kape © 25/4.2018

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And now for our daily prompt (optional, as always). Today, we challenge you to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself! (Mine definitely includes the statement: “Do Not Feed More Than Four Cookies Per Hour.”

Happy writing!

 

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