This week's proto-poems

 These ones need more work than the others, but I like some lines from them. The first one is based on a story my papa told about his brief time in Japanese-controlled Cambodia at the end of the war. For the final line, I originally had 'of those who [...]' but quickly decided that it didn't matter who specifically, because all of us are dangerous, under the right circumstances.

First prompt: something dangerous passed down

The sword is sharp,

even after years of being hidden in the attic.

Hidden with words too,

We mustn't speak of this sharp-edged symbol of war,

but in whispers.

There was a tale he saw a man's head cut off, 

was it this sword?

Did it know how to cut flesh,

break bone,

and never flinch?

Or was it, after all, just some metal shaped into a blade,

and danger lurks elsewhere,

in the minds and hands and deeds

of us.

Second prompt: a time when you were dangerous

I've never been dangerous in my life,

probably because I've never been in danger;

been surrounded by softness,

a warm home to come back to,

that was never in any danger of being taken away.

Or if there was danger,

I was steered away,

sheltered from,

so that I never saw the world

as a hard and sharp space,

but something to be embraced

in a warm and gentle hug.

But with the rug pulled from underneath 

so many feet,

it doesn't matter now that I'm not in any danger;

I will be dangerous for others.

Two more proto-poems

 Another useful early morning session with Marjorie Lotfi's Substack writing group.

First prompt: describe yourself using things that you love (Ways to Love Myself)

the sound of a flock of birds taking off from the sand;

a flick of pages from a book 

Second prompt: losing yourself 

And I lost myself, somewhere in the ebb and flow of the world.

Two proto-poems

So I joined a writing group on Substack, run by the lovely Marjorie Lotfi. I'd attended a writing retreat she offered, last autumn. It's a half hour zoom call, with poetry readings and quick prompts for inspiration. I found the similar (longer) workshops that we'd done on the retreat helpful so I thought I'd make the effort to keep my poetry writing going.

I think of these like sketches. It's helpful to have a body of work that I can dip into and play with, rather than starting from scratch. 

First prompt: a place that mattered (to you)

Spitting apple pips into the void.

Something takes root.

Second prompt: talking because someone is listening 

Thoughts spilling out of me

all tumbled together

like when we broke the dam

that we had built at the beach