The Word of the Month Word for October is . . .

Hi everyone,

Today we start the 4th quarter of 2021! For those who live where there are seasons, it’s time to transition from the last of the growing season into the first signs of winter. To mark the occasion, let’s use CHANGE for our October word challenge. I’ll be waiting to see what you will do with it and will add my own effort when I can.

In September you posted some delightful poems using LIGHT as your inspiration. Thank you all for joining the monthly exercise and adding your voices to the chorus. Over the years, a number of emerging poets have posted here and made steady progress in perfecting their skills. My thanks as well to the old pros who have routinely posted such wonderful models. I love the culture that has developed here during these past twelve years. Thank you so much for being part of it.

My Word of the Month poem for October

Hi everyone,

Sorry to be so slow. It’s hard to write on horseback. Here’s my October offering.

Night Lights

Blinker on,

Blinker off.

It’s growing late.

He needs a mate.

Blinker on,

Blinker off.

In the night,

A welcome light.

Blinker on,

Blinker off.

A come-hither flicker.

He’s blinking quicker.

Blinker on,

Blinker off.

He has no clue.

If he only knew.

Blinker on,

Blinker off.

He’ll be a treat

She means to eat.

Blinker on,

Blinker off.

Too soon too late,

He learns his fate.

Blinker on,

Blinker off….

© 2021 David L. Harrison

And the Word of the Month for September is…

Hi everyone,

When you’re a little kid and have a lifetime ahead of you, time crawls by at the rate of a slug with a headwind. When you approach the end of that long curve, it matches the speed of light. Not fair for it to be September, but the only thing we can do is sip our coffee and write poems.

Thanks to all who made weeds a busy subject that not only drew a lot of poems but comments as well. Now it’s time to wipe off the slate and begin anew. For September, let the word be light. Go!

My Word of the Month poem for August

Hi everyone,

I finally finished my contribution for August’s Word of the Month challenge based on the word, weeds. Here it is.

Weeding

This one hasn’t left the shelf in seven years.
Published twenty years ago,
the author knew her stuff for sure,
but kids just didn’t care for her subject.
The writing is charming, reflects a lifetime
learning to do it right. She poured her heart into this book,
the one she was born to write. Makes me want to
take up knitting. Sigh. Good-bye, dear author.

This one? In its day, kids counted on this jewel
to learn about the universe. Brilliant scientist.
Great with kids. I loved it that he never talked down to them.
Got knocked off by newer books. Better pictures.
Hard to fight better pictures, more recent information.
Good-bye, sir. It was a pleasure having you with us.

And you? Aw, not you! Am I really going to weed you this year?
What a delicious plot. What amazing language. What a lesson
for young readers on how use simple words to create
powerful images, stir emotions. A masterpiece of writing,
in its day. In its time, its place. Makes me sad to take such
a glorious story and discard it because it has grown old
and kids no longer love it the way we used to.

Every year some older books must go, give up their spots,
make way for newer models. I get that. It’s my job.
But saying good-bye to books you have loved, just
as your kids once loved, hurts. So many bright, helpful souls.

So many lifetimes. So much learning, practicing, dreaming, working,
I stack solemnly, one on another, in a box to be taken away.
Weeding makes them sound like weeds. Faded blossoms maybe.
Weeds they never were.

© 2021 David L. Harrison

My Word of the Month poem for July

Hi everyone,

Here’s my poem, inspired by July’s word — poem.

A Poem Begins with the Weather

Today I’m inspired to write a poem

about a cat I had as a child, half wild (the cat),

sweet, as a kitten, a tough Tom when he grew up

to prowl the neighborhood picking fights,

which makes me think of an Irish uncle I had named Tom,

who, for all I know, might have been a sweet child,

but grew up to be a profanity of a man who once cussed

in front of my mom, and my Uncle Wayne, a gent with

Old World manners, took Uncle Tom to task

while my mom sort of smiled. But back to my Tom

cat that ran off the week before we moved

to a different house and I never saw him again.

It was a gray, rainy day the last time I saw Corky

(my cat was named Corky), just like today,

and that made me think of Corky and how much I cried

and missed him and kept going back for months

to look for him and call his name and leave water.

I was nine years old. I grew up to cuss some, but

I have good manners, and if my mom reads this,

I bet she’ll smile.

(c) David L. Harrison, 2021