A BIRTHDAY PROMPT
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I've got a birthday coming up . . . do you, too? Maybe you are looking forward to a milestone birthday for you or someone else, or maybe you've celebrated one in the past that would make a poem now. Was it a lonely day or a lovely one?
Or maybe it's the idea of a birthday that you're thinking of: What is a birthday's significance to you? what "should" a person do on that special day--or on that ordinary day? What shouldn't you do? What would you truly like for a present?
This is a birthday prompt to play with as you will.
A few examples are below.
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By Linda Pastan
How did I get so old,
I wonder,
contemplating
my 67th birthday.
Dyslexia smiles:
I’m 76 in fact.
There are places
where at 60 they start
counting backwards;
in Japan
they start again
from one.
But the numbers
hardly matter.
It’s the physics
of acceleration I mind,
the way time speeds up
as if it hasn’t guessed
the destination—
where look!
I see my mother
and father bearing a cake,
waiting for me
at the starting line.
by Mary Oliver
The snails on the pink sleds of their bodies are moving
among the morning glories.
The spider is asleep among the red thumbs
of the raspberries.
What shall I do, what shall I do?
The rain is slow
The little birds are alive in it.
Even the beetles.
The green leaves lap it up.
What shall I do, what shall I do?
The little birds are alive in it.
Even the beetles.
The green leaves lap it up.
What shall I do, what shall I do?
The wasp sits on the porch in her paper castle.
The blue heron floats out of the clouds.
The fish leaps, all rainbow and mouth, from the dark water.
The blue heron floats out of the clouds.
The fish leaps, all rainbow and mouth, from the dark water.
This morning the water lilies are no less lovely, I think,
than the lilies of Monet.
And I do not want anymore to be useful, to be docile, to lead
children out of the fields into the text
of civility, to teach them that they are (they are not) better
than the lilies of Monet.
And I do not want anymore to be useful, to be docile, to lead
children out of the fields into the text
of civility, to teach them that they are (they are not) better
than the grass.
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This song is Stevie Wonder's plea for a national holiday on MLK, Jr's Birthday. (We've been celebrating it for years.)
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Please link one poem that is your response to this prompt.
After you link your poem, please visit others,
and
Don't forget to include this link in your post.
