Haiku 8
April 8, 2021

Hair, eyes, lips — all webbed!
Cankerworms drip from the trees —
Can’t wait till they’re moths.

#lizsharespoems #30daysofhaiku
#nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 7
April 7, 2021

The dog caught a scent
and didn’t let go all day
Dogged change of pace

#lizsharespoems
#30daysofhaiku
#nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 6
April 6, 2021

Squirrels line up to watch
I fill the squirrel-proof feeder
The bag’s unguarded

#lizsharespoems
#30daysofhaiku
#nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 5
April 5, 2021

The freeze killed it all —
Muhly… Turk’s Cap… Lantana —
but look, it’s undead!

#lizsharespoems #30daysofhaiku #nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 4
April 4, 2021

Hope springs eternal
There’s nothing like a fresh start
My Easter birthday

#lizsharespoems
#30daysofhaiku
#nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 3
April 3, 2021

Multipurpose rain
Rinsing pollen, quenching thirst
And expressing grief

#lizsharespoems
#30daysofhaiku
#nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 2
April 2, 2021

Deadlocked in conflict
It’s irreconcilable
Rhizomes run wild

#lizsharespoems #30daysofhaiku #nationalpoetrymonth

Haiku 1
April 1, 2021

It’s early and bright
April arrives like an egg
We’re insatiable

#lizsharespoems #nationalpoetrymonth #30daysofhaiku

A couple of years ago, we tried dizains — ten-line poems of ten syllables each line.
Our theme then was square, orderly, 10×10 — at least on the surface. Here’s mine.

Now we’re trying them again and our theme is dizzying — an alliterative take-off on dizain.
From square to dizzying in two short years? (I mean, yes, right?)

But interestingly, both of mine are about change. And birthdays. And being on the cusp of something wild. That’s how spring makes me feel, and dizains, too, I guess.

Twelve: On the Precipice
Liz Garton Scanlon

The engine downshifts, ears pop, shoulder falls
away: my twelfth year is this mountain pass,
pushing up toward tree line through rockslide walls.
It’s dizzying (thin air, inertial mass)
and yet, just right – my childhood surpassed.
Here at the top, the altitude is true
the pressure drops, there’s nothing I must do
but navigate curves and elevation.
No time to pump the brakes, take in the view –
I’m headlong downhill for the duration.

For more dizains, visit:
Tricia
Tanita
Laura
Kelly
Sara
Andi

And if you’d like to try our challenge next month, we’ll be writing in the style of Linda Hogan’s poem “Innocence.” Share your poem on April 30th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. We look forward to reading them!

Now, off to Poetry Friday with you! Enjoy!

Well, this was a gamble.
Our challenge this month was a roll of the dice — metaphor dice!

Our pal Laura rolled for us — we had several options to choose from — and I went with “my body is a bootleg blessing.” It has a nice alliterative ring to it but … what about the poem? In the end, the pandemic-insurrection-freak storm informed me. When I say I don’t understand anything anymore, I mean it! But even in the face of everything, the body is such a concrete and even weirdly logical thing. At least that’s how I’m feeling about it today…

Bootlegger: A Metaphor Dice Poem
By Liz Garton Scanlon

And I do – swallowing, asking to be touched, inhaling
then exhaling again and again, my body a bootlegged blessing
smuggled over centuries, across oceans and deserts, surviving
ignorance and illness, war and ravishing grief to be alive today,
to do the impossible, to make perfect sense of things.

You can read the others here:
Sara
Laura
Tanita
Tricia
Kelly

And Poetry Friday is at Karen Edmisten’s blog. Enjoy, all. Be safe and well…

Want to try next month’s challenge with us? The prompt: dizzying dizains. (Here’s a little primer for you.) We’ve done dizains once before and apparently liked the process enough to give it another whirl! Join us, and share your poem on March 26 in a post and/or on social media – #PoetryPals.