Lost and Found poems
pickpocketing my way through this week by making wee poems out of April poetry prompts on Instagram
This last week I stumbled upon the daily April poetry prompts from various Instagram accounts. There’s a lot of them in April because NaPoWriMo. This week I became a magpie, a pickpocket of words, a Dr Frankenstein of phrases. It got me thinking about lost and found too, a theme that returns to my mind regularly.
Sometimes when we lose something, we can forget in time that we even had it. Sometimes grief is like this, the grief returns to remind us that we held someone close for a while and the joy we shared wasn’t just a dream. Sometimes when we find something that was lost, the fleeting joy repairs all the gathered losses for a moment. Sometimes we feel lost and long to be found. Sometimes we find ourselves not lost at all. Sometimes we find value in the overlooked, the forgotten, the left behind. Sometimes the poetry is in the prompt. Sometimes the answer is in the question.
Each day I made the title from a poetry prompt for that day. Each line is a different poetry prompt from the same day or a composite of two prompts that fit together well...or not ;-)
070425
Seek out the sunshine portal
we only talk about the weather now
try to describe your heart instead
it will come out like a poem
tie my heart around your leg
creases at your hips
bleeding fingertips
a vase of blushing tulips
080425
write a poem that never uses the word I
love is in the air at the stubborn hearts club
yearning is not an exact science
for prisoner hearts behind bars
lulled by birdsong and a lonely lyre
home is an unhealthy obsession
a lone candle burning at both ends
090425
something that is not there
my wild escapes into the woods
sweet, sweet solitude
something that is not there
smile again, it could still get better
100425
choking on cherries
we’re tearing the heart out of love
the seasons are changing and I’m
over choking on cherries
extraordinary things, ripening fruit
110425
an April sky
wild horses; anchored
sun-kissed clouds; phantom heat
unsaid words; sunset is turning red
wrong place; wrong time
120425
can’t hold it in forever
am I too feral for you
and your sun-soaked daffodils?
I’ve pined for you my whole life
your freckles give the illusion of happiness
130425
escaping April
it’s useless to grieve what might have been
yet, if I don’t write this poem, I’ll die
still learning, mid-air, in a dream
trailing like ivy, counting backwards
the story of our dreams is birdsong
