Goodness, it's almost April! Do I have time to organize an elaborate and beautifully schemed celebration for National Poetry Month? No, I do not...but what kind of a poet lets April go by without a special nod?
So what can a busy poet do to celebrate with joyful restraint? She can invent a mini poetry game. Be forewarned: its success depends on YOU, so prepare to play!
On Monday, April 1st, I will post a SINGLE WORD here at my juicy little universe. This will be the first word in an cumulative and collaborative 30-word poem. Your job will be to briefly consider this first word and respond in the comments with YOUR JUICY SUGGESTION FOR THE SECOND WORD in the poem.
On Tuesday afternoon I will review all your excellent suggestions and choose a second word, which I will then post with Word One for your review/delectation/inspiration. Don't think too hard! Just respond with your suggestion for WORD THREE. On Wednesday, April 3rd, I'll select one of your suggested words and post Words One, Two and Three...
...and so on and so on (lather rinse repeat) until we have a tidy little joyfully restrained poem! Please plan to VISIT EARLY AND OFTEN to see how things are going and to leave your word ideas in the comments. (And if there comes a day with no suggestions, I have a back-up plan. Similarly, I'm ready if no one does me the favor of suggesting the occasional dry but useful grammaticalink word.)
Alongside 30words30days, I hope to be posting more children's work throughout April and I'll be participating, on April 14, in Irene's 2013 Progressive Poem. I'm looking forward to all the NPM delights that others have in store...see more at A Year of Reading with Mary Lee!
With Monday out of the way, here's a thought for those who have Easter bunnies on the mind...I was led to this chilly poem by someone's labor of love, a hundred-page collection of hare and rabbit poems, and I enjoyed especially the rabbits' view of us in our caves lit by sun and stars.
Song of the Rabbits Outside the Tavern | Elizabeth Coatsworth
We who play under the pines,
We who dance in the snow
That shines blue in the light of the moon
Sometimes we halt as we go,
Stand with our ears erect,
Our noses testing the air,
To gaze at the golden world
Behind the window there.
Suns they have in a cave
And stars each on a tall white stem,
And the thought of a fox or night owl
Seems never to trouble them.
They laugh and eat and are warm,
Their food seems ready at hand,
While hungry out in the cold
We little rabbits stand.
But they never dance as we dance,
They have not the speed or the grace.
We scorn both the cat and the dog
Who lie by the fireplace.
We scorn them licking their paws,
Their eyes on an upraised spoon,
We who dance hungry and wild
Under the winter's moon.
We who dance in the snow
That shines blue in the light of the moon
Sometimes we halt as we go,
Stand with our ears erect,
Our noses testing the air,
To gaze at the golden world
Behind the window there.
Suns they have in a cave
And stars each on a tall white stem,
And the thought of a fox or night owl
Seems never to trouble them.
They laugh and eat and are warm,
Their food seems ready at hand,
While hungry out in the cold
We little rabbits stand.
But they never dance as we dance,
They have not the speed or the grace.
We scorn both the cat and the dog
Who lie by the fireplace.
We scorn them licking their paws,
Their eyes on an upraised spoon,
We who dance hungry and wild
Under the winter's moon.
