I confess that I had no idea what to do here, but I decided to concentrate my visual attention on the word “VISPO,” through the process described in the April 3, 2016 Impromptu challenge and this is what I got.

eyes drawn by increasing roundness
as letters progress along the page
to a fecund, pregnant end

propelled ahead to await
the unseen wor(l)d to come
 
 
 

Yesterday, my mother’s portrait (you know
the one with the polyester paisley shirt, its red
clashing with the cheap silk tiger lilies over
her right shoulder?) fell off its hook and onto
the floor with a bang. The photo, encased in thin
metal, face down on the carpet, the glass cracked
and unsalvageable. I never liked that frame.

Sunlight penetrates leftover rain clouds.
Doors slam upstairs as cool spring breezes
blow through open windows “airing out the house”
as mother always said we should. The smile in that
photo, shy and full of apology, always concerned
lest offense be taken. Now I want to surround that smile
with something that suits it. Perhaps she did too.
 
 
This poem was written for the NaPoWriMo challenge for 04/02/16 in which we were asked to write a family portrait.
 
 

As a valued poet, you can rest assured
that the rhythm and echo of your silence is
of utmost importance to us.

We recently became aware that you may
have shared your blood and silence with
another partner, such as your shadow, a
falcon, or perhaps a trace of rain.

Please note that sharing of your light
may lead to unauthorized doubt and
the potential for darkness.
 
 
This found poem was written in response to Impromptu #2, a challenge from Collier Nogues to select a piece of junk mail or other bureaucratic form, remove the nouns and replace them with words from another source, perhaps a favorite poem. I combined a letter from our bank with words taken from the poem “Orpheus and Eurydice” by Czeslaw Milosz.
 
 
 

 

Peregrine falcon, you must know
there is a limit to everything

From the feather-rustle touch of
spring rain to the pebbled confines
of your hollowed-out scrape,
the round softness of your mate,
the raucous cries of baby chicks,
the unceasing dictates of predatory days.

And yet —
What do you know of limits,
defier of wind and of gravity,
plunging toward earth in pursuit
of everlasting life?
 
This poem was written for the April 1, 2016 FPR Impromptu prompt. The poetry generator provided me with the following instructions (paraphrased): Select a sentence or phrase from Stone and Webster journal  v. 22 (1915), pp. 2-3, rewrite the sentence to refer to “falcons” and use it as the first lines of a poem entitled “Textures.” Voilà.

The image above is in the public domain.

 

[photo by my_southborough at https://www.flickr.com/photos/mysouthborough/3457987316]

 

abandoned farmhouse

fringed in gold

front yard daffodils

 

Thank you to NaPoWriMo, 2016 for starting the month with a lune, a poetic form following a pattern of 5-3-5, either syllables or words. Lovely to ease back into writing poetry again.