Some prompt poetry today:
.
I remember
yellow days,
sun bright on daffodil hills,
air stained with smokey forest pyres,
golden nights.
I remember
empty room,
first promise you failed,
fear.
I remember
twinkling eyes
hope
belief in forever.
I remember
.
.
.
Prompts from my 123 prompts for Writers & Poets book, a yellow day, a moment that scarred you, someone you value.
A fantastic resource for poets and book artists to make beautiful chapbooks.
I have a writer-artist friend on Pender Island who posted this book that she got for Christmas. I was so impressed that I bought a copy of my own! With great thanks to Andrea Spalding, I’m delighted to share this book with you.
Hedi Kyle & Ulla Warchol have compiled a variety of techniques in Art of the Fold. This is a GORGEOUS book! It will teach you how to make amazing folded art books that you can use with beautiful papers to create stunning, one of a kind, art books for your poetry and other special words. Here’s a video of me showing some of the little practice books I made, while learning the techniques, with a peak at the book itself.
The beauty of this book is how Kyle and Warchol give you the bones of the books, but the scope of how you can apply the examples to make your own project is unlimited. I am SO excited to buy special paper and make some lovely art books to give to special people in my world. What a great resource for learning techniques of book folding. I am so excited to use these with my English students!
You can buy Art of the Fold on Amazon, and you really should!
(I’m an Amazon Affiliate, so buying from the link gives me a penny or two for the recommendation).
(My dog decided to wrestle his bed all over the living room while I was recording the video , excuse his enthusiastic growls and brief appearances in the background! lol He finally abandoned it against a chair. Silly boy.)
If I were being honest,
(truth hurts, my love)
I’d say that while the quotidien care
powers an appreciative couplehood,
sometimes cares require more than chores.
Sometimes, it needs a hug (you first)
or cooking a meal (with vegetables) and setting candles on the table.
Sometimes it means holding hands instead of striding ahead,
and no sighs of impatience or vibrations of irritation.
(Yes. We feel those, when you’re pretending, and it spoils the effort).
Sometimes your diligence with household chores is enough to know you care,
but sometimes
we need more.
It’s not the chocolates,
flowers,
romantic dinners,
sexy lingerie.
It’s just the words
and actions.
Fixing the brakes,
warming the car,
clearing off snow
before I head to work.
That’s romance.
That’s love.
“My battery is low
and it’s getting dark.” Weep
for my silent voice.
Opportunity,
roved beyond expectation.
.
.
Today, the Mars Rover Opportunity has been declared dead. It was meant to function for 90 days, and instead, worked for 15 years and sent amazing data about Mars’s hydrography. It was recently caught in a dust storm that covered its solar panels. In some future time, will someone clean the dust off this strange relic, and Opportunity will call to NASA again? Until then, Sleep well, Opportunity. More info here.
Silent winter night
Snow falling peacefully ’til
the plough comes scraping.
I’ve forgotten your name,
but one glance at the back of a pear-shaped girl
in a tight striped top and jeans,
brought you sailing through the years.
Short, feathered hair.
Acne scars.
Knock-kneed shuffle.
Booming laugh.
Where did I know you?
Whoever you are,
I hope you’re happy today.
I hope your life has been all you dreamed.
Great dreams.
Big hopes.
Massive endeavours.
Long journeys.
All large things
take little steps.
Bit by bit
bite by bite
step by step.
War and Peace
started with one word
on the page.
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony
began with one note.
Huge
begins
small.
Just
begin.
Pens poised,
Paper rustling.
Begin.
Destiny scratched
into this exam.
Future doors open or close.
You can ruin your life!
.
Don’t stress.
Life is not a straight road.
If an exam slams a door,
wiggle through windows,
force up foundations,
drop down the chimney.
Destiny is carved in determination,
not scratched in this exam.
Murmuring voices
racing around me, vacuum engine growl,
white noise.
Words without meaning.
Sound without sense.
There you are.
Your mouth moves,
but I can not hear you
anymore.
Shawn L. Bird 