It’s the grand finale of weather week for me, folks.
Next week I’m moving onto the scientific processes of the body (digestion and reproduction and the like…)
I still feel like I’m getting my haiku feet under me, a week in. Am I wrong that it was easier in years past?
For those of you writing along with me, how are y’all feeling?
If the answer is breezily confident, I promise I won’t be jealous out loud.
Well, anyway. Here’s my haiku on convergence, an answer (sort of) to yesterday’s divergence.
See you tomorrow!
Convergence
Haiku 7
You come breezing in,
the answer to emptiness.
The storms are worth it.
I’m learning a lot about weather dynamics this week. For example, divergence is a phenomenon that occurs when air is pushed out of an area (by wind), resulting in low atmospheric pressure, aka very little air, aka emptiness, aka a vacuum. And it’s related to tomorrow’s word – convergence – so stay tuned!
Divergence
Haiku 6
Today races by –
nature abhors a vacuum.
What will take its place?
Spring really keeps a person on her toes, huh?
I love that I’ve chosen to write about weather this week and the weather is being so very… creative!!
Today’s word? Oscillation!
Oscillation
Haiku 5
The temperature swings
like a trapeze, snug to brisk.
Dog wakes, sniffs, flies!
As I mentioned earlier, I’m writing my haiku this year about various scientific processes, beginning with some (lesser known) weather terminology. I promised a whole list, though, in case any of you wanted to use the same (or similar) prompts for your own poems. So, drum roll please, here goes:
Hi friends, I’m getting a little bit of a bumpy start this month because I didn’t have all my prompts figured out in advance and then I was away for the weekend. (Don’t feel bad for me — Mother-daughter Taylor Swift fun!)
Anyway, I’ll say more about haiku this week, to remind everyone about some of the subtleties and nuances of the form. But for now, let me say that my monthly poetry group is working with the theme of transformation this year and, within that, I’m looking more closely at certain scientific processes. (If you look back at the last several entries here, you’ll find a cascade poem I wrote in January on melting, an ekphrastic poem on oxidation in February, and an etheree on decomposition in March!)
So, what’s next? Well, I’m starting with haikus on weather-related processes (evaporation yesterday and occlusion today) and hope to stick with them for a week. Then I’m moving onto body-related processes, and we’ll see after that! I hope to have a full list of prompts in a few days and you’re welcome to use them, too. Otherwise, just stay open and observant and you’ll find plenty of fodder on your own!
Occlusion
April 2, 2023
winds and boundaries shift
cold front overtakes your warmth:
our weather report
I am away from my desk and my typewriter this weekend, but I’m kicking off national poetry month and 30 days of haiku anyway. Can’t wait to read all of yours! #lizsharespoems #30daysofhaiku #nationalpoetrymonth
The Poetry Sisters’ prompt this month was to write an etheree, a relatively straightforward ten-line poem, with each line growing by a syllable, so that the first line has just one syllable and the tenth line has ten. That’s it! Fun, right? And hugely accessible for poets of all ages and experience.
(As an aside, I really love this form. I once became so enamored of it that I composed an entire, relentless chapter book out of etherees that, shockingly, did not sell. I did share a single etheree as part of the Thanku anthology that published several years ago, and I talked about that in this video I shared with students during early pandemic lock-down days.)
OK, back to our current prompt. Not just an etheree, but an etheree that somehow touches on transformation, the word we’re using as our overarching theme for the year. And, you might remember that I’m drilling down within that theme in order to explore various scientific processes. (So far I’ve looked at melt and oxidize.)
This month, as snow begins to melt all over the country and the squishy ground opens up to spring, I decided to write about decomposition. Which, I’m slightly horrified to say, made me think about true crime. So welcome to the place where mycelium meets My Favorite Murder, or something like that. The mind is a curious thing…
DECOMPOSE/decompose/verb
Liz Garton Scanlon
March
(melting)
putrefies
and disappears
winter’s evidence,
breaking forensic clues
down into strands of secrets,
covert carriers of what’s next.
Never mind everyone’s reaction,
just consume each story along the way.
Consider this your invitation to join me in reading and writing haiku everyday in April for the 15th year in a row! I am still figuring out what my own personal prompts will be this year, but starting Saturday, come hell or high water, a haiku a day…
(I’ll be sharing on the blog at my website, and on instagram, twitter and facebook with these hashtags: #lizsharespoems #30daysofhaiku #nationalpoetrymonth and welcome you to do any version of the same.)
