Twenty-five. Do you know how awesome you are? Twenty-five days, and you keep coming back to take on these prompts. Your dedication is phenomenal.
Your prompt today is:
This is what I build:
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
In the Gravel Pit, Westside
I hack down two feet into the clotted limestone,
build caverns within the soil where roots can spread,
plunge downward, anchoring so strongly they can
winter over. Use plants that have moved from place
to place, heredity known, like some family tree, city
to town to countryside, then roadside, like the cactus
bed and yucca, the kniphofia’s red cones. This gravel
bed is a reclamation from when the country busses
filled the lot, buckets and buckets of chat and rock
hauled to the driveway, and bowl shapes created
to fill with soil and dryland plantings, ubiquitous
daylilies on the deadshelf at the supermarket for
a dollar. Houses are built but homes are a process
and so too these plants adapt, morph over time:
the everlastings and sedums, the phlox and iris,
the roadside verbena, the late fall goldenrods.
More a shack in the woods than a mansion when
viewed by the unknowing, but each returning
plant is a small victory, a salvaged timber.
Rectangular building blocks,
yellow, red, blue, green,
squares and pillars, some rounded out
just enough to provide windows
or archways for the houses, the garages
that I built with my son
for all his Hot Wheels, his vroom-vrooms.
Then came the thousands of Legos
that let one build any/everything,
endless hours of building, building.
I never minded sitting on the floor with kids/grandkids
building what may or may not work out as planned.
It was the sitting, the trying,
sharing ideas, comprising with two or three or five-year-olds,
trading blocks or letting them tear down
my structure to create their own.
I knew it was not the buildings that were important
but the builders learning to build.
Pingback: #NationalPoetryMonth’16 Round-up (Day 25) | Bonespark~