Tag Archives: List Poem

“The First Day of School” for dVerse Poets

What demands a list more than deciding what to put in your book bag for the firt day of school..and what is more necessary than a list in relating the story of that big day?

First Day of School

In our house, a pencil sharpener fastened to a shelf
with a little handle I could turn myself.
All the curls of wood and lead safely caught within,
as I gave the pencil sharpener one more little spin.

Five newly sharpened pencils, clutched tight in my hand,
then bound into a secure bunch with a rubber band.
Dropped into my school bag with eraser, tablet, ruler.
Everything unused and clean.  Nothing could be cooler.

The school warning bell rings out as my saddle shoe––
crisp black and white, unblemished, for it’s stiffly new––
makes its first step out my door to cross across the street
and with other six-year-olds, to find my proper seat.

Lynnie, Henrietta, Sheila, Diane, Sharon.
Clevie,  Meridee and I, Rita, Linda, Karen.
Lyle, Keith, Clinton, Jeff, Georgie, Jimmie, Billie––
come from all directions, running willie-nillie

to get to school before the bell sounds its final peal.
All those years of playing school finally here for real.
We stand in lines inside the room as she calls our names.
No more days of playing random childhood games.

Reading and arithmetic, that little cardboard store
where we learned to count out change, make shopping lists and more.
Spelldowns standing up in front, facing towards the class.
Your hand up when you had to ask for the bathroom pass.

Marching all around the room singing “Charming Billy.”
Can he bake a cherry pie? Those lyrics were so silly.
Then we stomped and pointed–our volume without match
as we sent the boys out yonder  to the paw paw patch.

Are you too young to remember? Or is it that you’re old,
your remembrances supplanted, your memories grown cold?
Do you not recall  the ink wells and chalk erasers?
The recess bell, the sandbox, the swingers and the chasers?

The teeter-totters creaking and the merry-go-round?
Every playground adventure? That cacophonous sound
of shouts and jeers and teasings, the tether ball and slide.
All the joyous sounds before we were called inside

to spend time with Alice and Jerry,  and with “Run, Spot, run,”
reading words over and over before the day was done?
They swirled around in all our brains––phonics, words and numbers
stirred our active childhood minds from their former slumbers.

It was so many years ago that we set out that day
upon a road that later would carry us away
from that square white building with its tower and tolling bell
that for the first eight years of school we would mind so well.

Streaming in from all the sides of our little town––
brilliant students, dunces, class bully and class clown.
It was a collaboration that ultimately made
eighteen little boys and girls ready for second grade!

The dVerse Poets prompt was to construct a list poem.

Check List for a Budding Poet

img_1071

Check List for a Budding Poet

If you want to be prolific,
better that you be specific,
and when you choose to state each fact,
try to make each word exact.
Don’t use time-worn words or wilted.
Avoid pretentious words or stilted.

Never try to force a rhyme.
Do not fail to take the time
to make your lines scan smoothly for,
uneven meter is a bore.
Words written for effect are hollow,
but where heart is, the head will follow.

So write your poetry from the heart.
Put your horse before the cart
and let it pull you up the hill.
Let your words express their will—
you following blindly, just to see
what the next line wants to be.

Let words of different shapes and sizes
furnish pleasure and surprises.
Make your poems resemble zoos
of striped okapis and kangaroos.
Delight yourself and then your reader.
Follow words, then be their leader

by whipping them in line and order,
shaping them within your border.
It never is too late to change
an errant line that’s out of range,
but editing is not what you
initially should seek to do.

Words give hearts tongues to share their pleasure
and their pain in equal measure.
Essayists and authors strive
to make their writings come alive.
They show us where their minds have been,
but poets put the music in.

 

For dVerse Poets “List Poem” Prompt

Bucket Listless: NaPoWriMo 2019, Apr 16

IMG_3741

Bucket Listless

Please don’t ever make me go back to Cancun.
If I never return there, I’ve visited too soon.
Don’t make me go to church again or listen to more rap.
Don’t make me go to bed at eight or take a daily nap.
I don’t want to do those things I don’t want to do.
Don’t make me look at animals trapped up in a zoo.

Brains are meant for keeping up farther in your head.
To have to eat the things I think with fills my mind with dread.
Don’t make me eat anything only adults eat:
liver, caviar, pate, kidneys or pigs’ feet.
All of those are parts of animals I’ve come to fear,
for none of them are meant to put in human mouths, my dear.

I think that I’ll live longer without jumping from above.
For bungee cords or parachutes I have no sort of love.
Even roller coasters present uncalled-for risk.
For me a walk upon the beach is adequately brisk.
Anything that’s bumpy, jerky, swooping, fast or twirly
makes me want to arrive late and go home really early.

Please don’t make me listen to those who rant and rave.
If I meet them in the street, I’ll merely nod and wave.
Let bores much given to monologues find another ear;
because those who never listen, I have no wish to hear.
Tea-partiers, loud mouths, bigots and folks in the elite
are on my list of strangers I do not need to meet.

I hope no radiation or chemotherapy
is ever necessary to make me cancer-free.
No machines to make me breathe and no dialysis.
As little poking, pushing, testing and analysis
as possible is what I wish for on my “do not” list.
Just let me go gently into that final mist.

I’ve grown to hate the overuse of “bucket list” as label
for what folks want to do before their death if they are able.
So please be more original in thinking what to call
that list of things that you most want to do before you fall.
For the thing that I don’t want as “I am” turns into “been”
Is to ever hear the phrase of “bucket list” again!

 

The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem using a list to defamiliarize the mundane. This poem fulfills part of that prescription.

Dianne Hicks Morrow/ Day 3, NaPoWriMo

IMG_8702

My friend Dianne Hicks Morrow is doing the NaPoWriMo challenge this year but doesn’t have a blog, so I asked if I could post her List poem here and she agreed.  Fun.  We were asked to make a list of imaginary “somethings” and then to make a poem of them.

Harlequin Detective Novels—Day 3 NaPoWriMo

Tit for Tat
Smell a Rat
Ballarat
Vallarta
Your Hearta
Must Go On
Swan Song
An Inch, A Mile
A Crooked Smile
A Stricken Heart
A Sickened Tart
She’s Too Smart
For Her Own Good
Life in the ‘Hood
The Purple Snood
The Cost of Rude
No Golden Rule
The Champagne Pool
Make Me Drool
Make Me Droll
Make Me, Doll
Make Me
Then Again Maybe Not

Hard to Teach
Beyond Her Reach
Bongo Beach
The Peach
The Screech
Snorkel Empire
Crossed Whale Lovers
What Angelfish Know
Beware the Stingray

Capsized by Desire
Stoking the Funeral Pyre
Wisdom of the Dolphin
Beyond the Lace Veil
Beneath the Bed
Dust Bunnies on the Easter Rabbit
Single Men Swim Free
Beyond Wrinkles
The Death of Spider Veins
Listless in Seattle

—Dianne Hicks Morrow’s wild mind for 10 minutes this morning
For NaPoWriMo list poem prompt.

NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 3, List Poem

Truth is much stranger than fiction. Today, when the NaPoWriMo prompt was to make a list poem, I drew a blank, so I used the WordPress prompt instead.  But, when I went to Facebook to see if my poem had posted there, I found a very strange thing. There, dated April 3, was posted this “List Poem!”  It turns out that it was posted as the Five Years ago Today feature on Facebook. In short, five years ago today when I was making my first NaPoWriMo posts, the prompt on April 3 was the same prompt they gave us today on April 3 five years later!  Go figure.  I took it as a sign, so I’m publishing this one (which had one “like” five years ago when I was new to blogging and had no followers) again.

“When Life Gives You Lists, Make Poetry” 

The poem in a nutshell:

A poem a day might be more possible
if only I were not so bossable.

Or, The unabridged version:

I had the best intentions when
this morning I picked up my pen;
but then the phone began to ring
and all day long, thing after thing
presented obstacles to rhyme,
ate up attention, devoured my time.
First, the printer who needed pay
of course, lived 15 miles away.
Two hours later, home at last,
I had to cook a light repast
for company who now have left
me feeling not a bit bereft.
My laptop open, my mind about
to function, I was beckoned out.
My mood was less than  joculant
as the gardener asked for flocculant
for pool algae gone amuck.
When? Now? It was just my luck!
He made a list, demanded more
since I was going to the store.
He added chlorine and algaecide
as I considered suicide.
Finally home, I yearned to go
devise some verse, but to my woe,
my propane tank had just run dry.
We made the call. They said they’d try
to make it out within the hour.
My mood grew crabby, dark and dour.
From then on, things just kept on being
averse to my poesy-eeing.
Thing after thing came up to do.
If I know you, maybe some from you!
I‘m just a girl who can’t say no
so this is how ‘twas bound to go
until I figured how to make
adversity a piece of cake.
Make the best out of the worse.

Let interruptions become the verse!