Nov7__Saturday
For today’s prompt, I want you to pick a plant (any plant), make that the title of your poem, and write a poem. Pretty simple. (Or is it?) Most people, including myself, immediately think of plants as organic creatures, but, of course, “plants” can also be places of employment or spies or…as you can see, there’s always room for breaking outside the lines.
Well, I did answer the prompt . But I don’t like the poem any more than the plant, so why did I write it. Hell if I know, but I like this one better, on an oddly similar theme, and it does have a plant inside.
today november’s warm with leaves and ladybugs
a tickle on my neck I brush and crush
a red and spotted lady beetle
soon they will be clustering and cloistering
dropping from the ceiling into soup
and wandering among the potted plants
like tourists from tokyo or mars
but now the scent like fig leaves
on my fingers reminds me to be
careful as my feet disturb the earth
There so many little ladybug-like things going on here that I love… “clustering and cloistering”, “tokyo or mars”, “disturb the earth”, etc. It’s longer than a haiku or something similar, but the same kind of snapshot illustration effect is happening. Prompt or no, it’s a cool verbal moment.
(And you’re lucky that your November is warm… last night it got down to 31 Fahrenheit at my parents’ house, where I am for the weekend. Most displeasing.)
Thanks. I rather liked it. Not so much the smell…
This year, Fall came late here, and is lasting. Those outrageous blue crystal days didn’t show until after my birthday, and the leaves were only just down to crunch for trick-or-treaters (it’s the noise that makes it fun, I think. I hated Florida)