1. Loving people’s mouths alternately sink below and reappear above the bubble of trees. The mouths of loving people are not above long enough for them to exhale, inhale, and call out for greetings. When loving people’s mouths are above the surface, they palpitate quickly as their mouths start to sink below the bubble of trees.

2. Loving people cannot wave greetings. Nature instinctively forces them to extend their arms laterally and press down on the tree’s surface. Pressing down on the bubble of trees permits loving people to leverage their wings so they can lift their mouths out of the trees to breathe.

3. From beginning to end of the Instinctive Loving Response people remain upright in trees, with no evidence of a supporting limb. Unless induced into therapy by a trained friend, these loving people can only struggle on the edge of a branch for 20 to 60 years before soaring occurs.

This doesn’t mean that a person  singing  greetings or dancing isn’t believable – they are experiencing suspended disbelief, but unlike true loving, these actors can still assist in their own rescue. They can grab lifelines, throw rings, etc.

* * *
This odd found prose-poem (or maybe just prose) uses the idea of replacing one word or phrase for another as a secret code.  I wanted to take it one step further and superimpose my hands over the text to see what happened (do a bit of graphic editing), but I think I have run out of time for this week’s experiment. But I will be back to it. I had all kinds of strange ideas popping in my head (such as that code talking might just allow me write a love letter to my mother — a hard request to fulfill when it has been asked for.)

Thank you Nathan Landau for fun and provoking ideas!

Find other ideas about what the prompt meant here, at the Big Tent.

Oh! The original content came from “Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning,” an article a Facebook friend linked, and which is probably a good read for those who enjoy water recreation.

Related posts:

1. beautiful May
2. a prose poem (drafty)
3. the tattooed lady

Strike a happy balance.
You’re (sic) ready-for-action attitude
makes you a shining example
in executive circles.

Out of balance circles:
the tire’s about to blow.

Strike a backward balance:
Your wicked specimens
make you a hardscrabble sample
in crystalline circles.

Pose without regard
for those seeing eyes.

Leak a happy cadence:
your veins attitude
piggyback a shining lunacy
in executive wards.

Humming the blues.
No words penetrate pens.

Wick a nascent posture:
Your impossible scaling
gives a fractured example
to April’s turn.

Climb high to dive -
the chance updraft may catch.

* * *

I borrowed a dozen words from Read Write Poem’s Wordle today. (Leaking, cadence, backward, lunacy, wicked, veins, specimens, nascent, impossible, crystalline, piggybanks – which I changed to piggyback – and hardscrabble. Thanks for the words, Nicole.)

I also borrowed Nathan’s skeleton-using-a-horoscope idea (which is the first stanza) and his method of changing words in subsequent stanzas. It felt like those stanzas were “calls” needing a response, so I added the 2-line stanzas.

What sign are you? I’m an unemployed Aries. Who is not sure this NaPoWriMo thing is a good idea. Anymore. (At this point I always wonder: Was it ever?)

One must always keep your humor(s) when participating in NaPoWriMo.

Related posts:

1. Switcheroo
2. NaPoWriMo 4.13 (WD) A line for Aunts
3. skeletons

A Penance to my Yarmulke on a Shabbat Not Celebrated

We’ve careened off path enough to know senses
remove the screen of mystic wax and match, the pulse
at the dusk of another home.

(Ritual has gone and packed up and traveled.)

You savor the first night more for pleasure, and
set the braided bread on the glass table,
our last. Novices never consider cheating the
meal when a fragile wine tumbler, falls.

I reason alone, I let out breath to sigh,
heave the worry, and race flames when you leave,
and smile, self-assured.

* * *

Here’s Elizabeth’s proffered skeleton.

A ____ to my ________ on a _____ ________ _____

We’ve ____ ____ ________ enough ___ __ __
____ the ___ of ____ ____ and ____, the _____
at the ____ of ____ ____.

(________ has _____ and ____ and _____.)

You _____ the __ _____ ___ for __, and
_________ the _____ _____ on the _____ __
our ___. ___ never ________ _____ the
_____ when _ ____ __ ____, _______.

I ____ ____ I _____ _____ ___ to ____
___ the _____, and _____ __ when _ ____,
and ____-_____.

* * *

And a nod to Carolee’s prompt at Read Write Poem about wearing different hats. (My husband brought me a beautiful kippah from Jerusalem. I don’t use it. I sometimes wish I did.)

* * *

I’m still writing poetry every day. Most of the poems suck big time. :^}

Related posts:

1. Something New (for Freedom to Marry)
2. Dem bones
3. Fill in the blanks

The sparkle will drip on the new snow.
It was gathered on clouds, a silent choir,
that only meant to sweep in shallow circles
granting to broken brooms, not shovels:
The error of gardening. But that crisp is here,
a sliver of moons’ last weeping. If truth be
not disclosed, longing will flee to lay broken
on top of crags and, mourning, tastes
of sweet meats will be bitter. Not to know
Other, to stay hidden inside mystery,
and to conceal from ourselves.

* * *

This is the original skeleton poem, from Dana at My Gorgeous Somewhere. She says it’s a speech. My own remaking of it is an attempt to put new flesh on the skeleton, hence the title. I hoped to evoke the need to be able to be true to self, to love. To love and marry whoever you wish. It’s a bit obscure!

It’s harder to do skeleton poems than I ever think it will be. Give it a whirl; I dare you. This one is for the OTHER mother, where a carnival for Freedom to Marry is underway. (If you use the skeleton, leave a link for Dana.)

The _____ will ____ ____ the _____ ______
____ was _______ on _________, a ________ ____.
That ___ _______ __ _____ in ____ _____
______ to _____, _______ ___ ________, the _______
of _________. But that _____ is ____
a _______ of ______ __ ____. If _____ ____
not _________, _____ will ____ to be _______
on ___ ___ __________ and, ______________, ________
of ________ _____ will be ____. ____ ____ ________
_________ to _____ __________ ______ ___________,
and ____ __________ from ___________.

Related posts:

1. skeletons
2. Valentine’s Day: Celebrate Love (for Freedom to Marry)
3. Something Old (for Freedom to Marry)

Think about someone taking all the blanks I left at RWP and what someone might fill them with in to come up with – what?, is exactly the question. Answers posted sometime next week!

* * *

Improbable thoughts

Ramble. I’m walking
the dog:
a delinquent
and untrained mutt. A
spoiled thoroughbred
jumping on
my clean
pants. His paws muddy.
A floppy soppy heart.
He takes
me where I
wouldn’t go. Smells
then jumps at leaves
Dirt clods.
Fallen cones
My tongue wags. No
tail to sweep joy.
Eating rank
delicacies.
A lead snaps. Release.
Fragrant grass punches
a weary mind glints
replacing glowers.
Good boy!

Related posts:

1. A clothing poem with a few other influences
2. revising dreams and odd poems
3. …deb’s Pantoum