And then there's Poem-a-Day, just to keep one in mind of all the possible poems there are out there.
Ordinary Grass Grows Where It Must
We all own mowers.
The grass is lowly, struggling always up but
not far, blades bent down by feet and paws
and wheels but standing high enough to cast
a sunrise shadow on its downslope self.
not far, blades bent down by feet and paws
and wheels but standing high enough to cast
a sunrise shadow on its downslope self.
It always comes back,
surges up through sidewalk or churns of mud,
tenacity outsizing its minute green tips.
It feeds a passing cat needing a tonic, or a kid
needing a slice of whistle or chlorophyll juice,
or in some places actual sheep who crop it as
soon as it can stand on its own one foot.
tenacity outsizing its minute green tips.
It feeds a passing cat needing a tonic, or a kid
needing a slice of whistle or chlorophyll juice,
or in some places actual sheep who crop it as
soon as it can stand on its own one foot.
Not to notice is normal,
but grass takes that personally, threatens to
strike, stop growing, but doesn't really mean it.
Do grass a favor and lie down, accept its edge
of itch and its inhabitant insects, the histamine tickle
that has cushioned centuries of outdoor couplings.
strike, stop growing, but doesn't really mean it.
Do grass a favor and lie down, accept its edge
of itch and its inhabitant insects, the histamine tickle
that has cushioned centuries of outdoor couplings.
Submit to the sky,
which is all grass can see save the forest of siblings
surrounding it. The damp skin of the earth is a
platform for viewing the wind at work, and if
it's dry instead, let green go and lie down golden-
grained, brown meeting the granulated ground,
surrounding it. The damp skin of the earth is a
platform for viewing the wind at work, and if
it's dry instead, let green go and lie down golden-
grained, brown meeting the granulated ground,
and grass will weave
a dying nest for you to leave in, but only until
the next rain, the next worming invigoration
that commences its endless sunlit revival.
the next rain, the next worming invigoration
that commences its endless sunlit revival.
instadraft ©HM 2023
**********************************And here's my Poetry Project for National Poetry Month...I'll finally be getting WHISPERshout Magazine up and running. Check it out here! And if you have class or kid or grandkid poems to submit, send them to WHISPERshoutMagazine@gmail.com!
Thanks to Rose at Imagine the Possibilities for hosting us today. Go see everybody else exercising their identities!
