April Poem-A-Day commenced yesterday. Perhaps you aren’t motivated or inspired to participate this year. Let me try to change your mind. I believe poets are the creative journalists of the world. We are the hunters and gatherers of humanity’s experiences just like visual artists. We inhale all the dirt and grime and love and peace then craft, not the data, but everything else. Our legacy is to report the totality of this pandemic, emoting and evoking our personal vision.
Give it a try even if you’re morose–even if you don’t write all the poems. My father died not even a month ago. I’m giving it a go although I confess, it’s tough.
April 1st prompt: Write a new world poem.
by j. lynn sheridan
I read the world—
the clouds still yawn and stretch each dawn,
the crocus bulbs, like indigo blessings, line my garden walk.
I listen to the world—
a rooster balks in the woods,
a dog snaps to attention as a squirrel swishes its tail,
the birds still sing hallelujah,
frittering below my oak trees as if nothing else matters.
In one blink
a single second right before my eyes,
nature’s hope still breathes.
I catch the hundred little miracles
and hug them to my heart
and I remember spring.