It’s the eighteenth day of our 30/30!
Have you found yourself revising any of your responses yet, from earlier in the month? Just curious. Everyone’s process is different.
Your prompt today is:
Describe yourself as a fireplace: what you’d be made of,
what you’d look like, the fuel you’d burn,
who would gather at your hearth.
Guidelines, if you want them:
- Posting your response is not required
- Feel free to post your response  🙂
- This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
- While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
- Tips & encouragement are here
QuillsEdge Press 
Rough pavestones topped one on another
set in with purpose, with care,
creating a place for fire,
fire to warm, fire for water, for food.
Tucked into chinks are small stones,
protectors – rose quartz, jasper, malachite –
random findings meant for this very place.
Rising only five feet,
this small shrine stands on land outdoors
where family, friends gather in retreat,
not daily, but with enough frequency
that the ashes hold memory of recent life,
wood gathered from the land,
sticks to place on stones
to heal our bones, our hearts
with campfire marshmallows, skewered wieners, kabobs,
and kettle ready to whistle out its song,
a song echoed into the night sky by uncertain voices
sending gratitude to sister stars
as embers glow and dim around this hearth.
LikeLike
In answer to the question posed with prompt 18, I have not really looked back with revision in mind as I am trying to use the daily prompts as an impetus to stretch. I have committed myself to write a poem a day for these 30 days – good, bad, or otherwise – just to write, no judging yet:) Why post???? to keep myself honest to the task, to prove to me that writing doesn’t have to be perfect, to enjoy the spontaneity, to jog along with others who are pushing themselves a bit or just love moving along the path. Thank you for this opportunity.
LikeLike
Nothing Warmer Than Wood Heat
Utilitarian, unobtrusive,
Simple, solid cast iron
No frills or fine embossing
No enamel shine
I stand on sturdy legs
Vigilant. Reliant. Defiant.
Give me space! Give me air!
I must breathe to burn.
I hide my baffles
The window view on my flame
Obscured by years
But fuel me with a fine touch
You’ll feel my heat
LikeLike
what a breath of passion!
LikeLike
At the Greathouse
Fieldstone still holds the sun, its
many colors the rich of soil and
plant, its slicing layers as precise
as its positioning here, mortared
into its welcoming womb, its high
chimney winding upward to the
cathedral’s beam. Bring on the
slow hot hedge, its orange wood
hewn from the fencerows where
a thousand, nay a million seeds
from hedge balls have fed the vole
and shrew, prized apart by deer
and possum, one or two going deep
to begin the cycle anew. Barring
the bois d’arc, bring on the shag
bark hickory with its curling flakes
of barkskin, and add some oak so
that the warmth will bank through
the night. Put one or two sticks of
cedar in the woodbox just for scent
but not to burn, it flares too hot and
full of resin for this place. Don’t wipe
the smoky residue from my mantle
stone, but let it build like a gentle
patina ages old. Lay down your troubles,
burn the broken trysts. I tell no secrets.
LikeLike
Pingback: #NationalPoetryMonth’16 Round-up (Day 18) | Bonespark~