Second Death – Day 4 April, 2018

Second Death

 

That Kingfisher on the line

He was beauty to me

Late sunshine catching his feathers.

He said something

And this was a sign language

Only you and I understood.

 

But then a note came, a condolence

At your passing from

The very person who spelled

The jagged knife of my own

Jealousy; your betrayal conveyed

Here in an art note regarding

A Kingfisher. I could never shoot

A kingfisher: so I shot you.

 

Benita H. Kape © 4.4.2018

Not sure I’ve hit the mark here but this was the exercise.

And now for our (optional) daily prompt. Our craft resource today focuses on the use of concrete nouns and specific details, using the idea of “putting a dog in it.” Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like “beauty” or “justice,” but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns. Adjectives are fine too! For example, you could have a poem about sadness that describes that emotion as “a rowboat tethered with fishing line to a willow that leans over a pond. Rainwater collects in the bottom, and mosquito eggs.” Concrete details like those can draw the reader in and let them imagine the real world where your abstract ideal or feeling happens. Happy writing!

 

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What does a cat know? – NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day 28 – a poem telling a story, but telling it backward

What does a cat know?

What does a cat know of betrayals?
With a cat’s curiosity, as the sound dies, she
approaches as the sound plays and replays
in the still air.

In the morning air a sound so pure.
If clay has a sound supreme, a timbre;
a high pitched scream.
Arms aloft, nothing would stop
Too late; confide an agency of grace.
Rasping sounds of breathe to release.
A sound of wings?
A dive will be made.
A river of anger and despair.
The victim of cross-fire, some dark mantra.
Kingfisher lifting with catch caught in the
magic of clay. Chromatic conflicts, resolve, resolve.
The anguish, the regrets, the loss of harmony.
Sisters split apart by one small revelation.

Benita H. Kape © 28.4.2016

A poem telling a story, but telling it backward.