Weekend Assignment #212: Celebrate Poetry Month!

If you think you saw a totally different Weekend Assignment topic posted here earlier today (Friday), no, you're not crazy. I found out today that it's National Poetry Month, and regretted not going with an idea I had last night that happens to coincide with this occasion. Since nobody has posted a response yet to the topic I wrote about last night, I'm going to bump that one in favor of this one. Forgive me?

Weekend Assignment #212: It's National Poetry Month in the United States, but poetry itself is a worldwide phenomenon, existing in many styles. Let's celebrate the form. How? By writing a poem, of course! It can be silly or serious, haiku, limerick, rhymed verse, blank verse, free verse, two lines long or fifty, or anything in between. All I ask is that it be a new, original poem, not something you wrote in high school and trot out occasionally.

Extra Credit: Do you have a favorite poet?

I'm rushing this entry onto the Outpost in the hope that nobody is thrown too badly by my switcheroo; consequently I haven't written my poem yet. But here's a placeholder:

My brain arranges
Today's news into regret.
But words lag behind.

I can do better.
Images will become text
Quite soon: watch this space!

(this picture is a rerun from 2005).

Okay, I've put this off long enough:


Dog in the Nighttime

More barks disturb the night: they cry;
I listen, try to tell
If it's a neighbor dog nearby
Or one with which I dwell.

I study pitch and speed, and tap
The style and the tone.
Is this a lonely toy dog's yap,
Or hound dog's worried moan?

Of course I try to gauge the sound
Direction most of all.
Is it in our yard (this round)
Or well beyond the wall?

To the north and to the south,
And straight out to the east,
Barks and howls come from the mouth
Of every canine beast.

That could be Tuffy, I'm afraid.
And that my Pepper's yelp.
Did they hear some cat invade,
And rush outside to help?

I've tried, but I still can't quite tell
The source of every bark.
The canine chorus starts to yell;
I peer out at the dark.

I tap the glass, call out their names,
Hope Pepper doesn't hide.
Tuffy thinks I'm playing games,
'Cause she was safe inside.

"Go get her, Tuff!" and Tuffy goes
A few feet out the door.
Pepper follows Tuffy's nose
And they're inside once more.

The door is shut; it can't be them,
But dogs I can't control.
Mine sit out the shrill mayhem
That wakes each sleeping soul.

KFB, 4/20/08



Oh, and favorite poet? For me it's a toss-up between E E Cummings and Ogden Nash. Or A.A. Milne. Or Theodore Geisel. Hmm. Let's go with Dr. Seuss.

If you don't usually write poetry, here's your chance to stretch those writing muscles. If you do, here's a chance to show off your mad skillz. Write a new poem in your blog or journal, and be sure to include a link back here. Then leave a link to your entry in the comments below. Our online poetry festival will be posted next Thursday night. Have fun!

Karen