Again for the 2nd day in a row this is the second poem I’ve written for the one prompt. I keep getting poems I was desperate for but for an entirely other project and so one here, one there.
May, the Sky Falls In
the rain
the sludge
the hours
the sky
2008
sometimes
all at once
the sky
is always
overhead
it feels like
it’s falling
the rain
sets in
for days,
weeks
on end
the hours
of
coming
and
going
sitting
at your
bedside
the grass
verge
becomes
sludge
as cars
come
and go
a verse
as long
and
as black
as a
hearse
May,
oh May
how
it rained
how little
I saw
of it
May
slipped
slowly
away
Benita H. Kape © 5.4.2016
Prompt: And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruellest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruellest month, and why.
benitakape 