2016 Found Object Poem Project: Day 19

It’s Day 19 of our 2016 daily write-in. This year’s theme is FOUND OBJECTS. We have a new writing prompt for every day in February.For those of you who are new to my blog, please read my introductory post about the February daily write-in. You’ll find more information and all of the Week 3 FOUND OBJECTS at this post.As I've mentioned before, often in the middle of this month of daily writing, I get a little silly. Okay, a lot silly. I have a stretch of days when I don’t have much to say, and what I write turns playful, even if I'm not 100% happy with it. It’s good practice for me to share these poems anyway, to put the focus on effort instead of outcome.PLEASE NOTE: This year, a few friendly bloggers have volunteered to host a day or two. I am visiting family this weekend. Tomorrow’s post, which is DAY 20, will be at Jone Rush MacCulloch's blog, Deowriter. Leave your Day 20 responses here, in the comments, or you can leave them at Jone's blog. We will both make sure your poems get posted.FOUND: Deer SkullToday's FOUND OBJECT is in the nature category. It is a literal found object -- found and brought home by my friend, the poet Mike Ratcliffe.As you know, I love hearing about people's writing process -- the journey from prompt to idea to poem. Mary Lee Hahn left us a message about her response to the deer skull:"When I started writing, I had no idea how this poem would go with the skull and antlers. I had the phrase 'There’s ___, but then there’s ____' in my mind and I opened the post and started writing from that. Somehow my brain gave me pride and hubris. We’ve been noticing similes and metaphors in my 5th grade class, so I had fun making a simile-metaphor-vocabulary poem that will hopefully teach my students a new word. When I was finished, I looked back at the skull and wondered what HE knows about pride vs. hubris, sitting there on the sidewalk for all to see…"AdviceThere’s pride —(nothing wrong with pride)a warm sense of self-worthsitting quietly inside youlike a steaming cup of cocoa on a winter morning.But then there’s hubris —a venti double mocha latte with whip and extra sprinklesstanding there beside your computer in the cafewhile you pose with your earbudsopen notebookfancy penempty page.The trick is knowing the difference.©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016***I am so excited to see the return of Herman the Hermit Crab! We were first introduced to Donna Smith's invention on Day 8. Donna says, "I didn’t have a clue what to write, but then I heard Herman talking from inside the skull, as he tried to cross the sidewalk."Herman, the Hermit Part 2Yes, sweet, yes, dear,I know I’m slowBut the first one was lighterAnd smaller to tow!This one won’t fit me,It’s harder to walk;I barely can breathe andIt’s harder to talk!No, it’s all right, dear,Ill try to adjust.I’ll carry it, dear,If you think that I must.But I really don’t see howThis shell’s any better.It won’t keep out wind,And in rain I get wetter.I know I look handsome,But can’t I come outAnd get my old shell back?I don’t mean to pout.But maybe I just needMy small house to carryAnd then, my sweet dear,I’d not have to tarry.I can still do it, butPerhaps I’d not lingerTo get you a ringTo wear on your finger.Oh, sorry, not finger –I meant one of your clawsAs I try to propose hereCan we put this on pause?For I’m out of breathI just have to rest.It’s okay, dear Herman,You’ve just passed my test!We’ll get your old shell back‘Cause it’s cozy, though drabYou can wear it on weekendsAnd I won’t even crab.©2016, Donna JT Smith, all rights reserved***Linda Baie is in with a lovely haiku today. I'm noticing the contrast between the natural skull and the cement sidewalk.the skull remindsas we walk our cement path –whose passage was takenLinda Baie ©All Rights Reserved***Jessica Bigi's poem is meant to curve and waver down the page. I'll try to update the formatting if I can figure it out. I'll also be adding artwork from Jessica soon.ScreamsShrieksSerialsChattersCreaksClanksAntlersKnittingStringingWordsIntoGhostlyStoriesOf oneHorseTownsTumbleWeedsRollingDustyTrialsIntoDesertSkiesby Jessica Bigi***I've been enjoying Matt Forrest Esenwine's short poems during this project. Love the play on words here.“Hunting Season”Been hunting these woodsfor whitetail deer,and wouldn’t you know –the buck stopped here.– © 2016, Matt Forrest Esenwine, all rights reserved***And Carol Varsalona posted today's digital creation to Twitter. Patricia VanAmburg has been on vacation, but wrote in, "I was really drawn to this skull which reminded me of the significance of horned animals in antiquity, and I hoped to write a pantoum.  But life has been a blur—so here is a haiku of sorts—because I cannot pass this particular object without response…"I was lucky enough to hear Patricia give a wonderful talk on mythology and art recently. I see those same themes reflected in this haiku.HornedBy Patricia VanAmburgBone without flesh butConsort to his goddess stillGrazing on her walk***With more shootings in the news, Charles Waters' poem hit home for me today.HUNTING ARITHMETICBy Charles WatersTwo shots of rock salt,one corpse stripped of her spirit,one family gorging on her flesh.Another innocent life … gone.***I'm so pleased to introduce you all to poet and YA author Heather Meloche today. Heather is one of my fellow 2016 debut authors, part of the Sweet 16 group. Her novel is entitled RIPPLE.Heather wrote, "I am a poet before I am a novelist, and my debut novel was written in verse before it was edited into prose. After editing prose for long hours every day, I feel like sentences and words all feel the same. I forget how full and satisfied poetry makes me feel."We are all bone, dear.When I left you standing on the crookedporch steps, the weed and drink diffusingyour clarity, you waved goodbye to the neighbor, not me.But I saw you, shucked and shivering, the simple whiteof calcium phosphate and running nerves, the hollowsbuilt by oxygen and form. I had breathed youin a thousand times, draped your structure throughmine for months that grew to years, until we madea horrifying skeletal thing, a mish-mashof splinters and fragments of ourselves.We would have fossilized there, creaked andcracked into later adulthood, then blamedthe other for our fractures. My packed bagstore against my ligaments that day I left, the lightnessof the air between us ripped at tendons, popped throughthe joints your fingers had caressed in the dark. And in the hollowof my new apartment, I had to search and scrounge for the minorcells that became true bone, and crawl through a maze ofconnective tissue that brought me to today. When I heardfrom a friend you still stand, straight and angled, marrowedby your own doing. I sensed in me a cell of yours stillremaining, fibrous and tough along a deep membrane. But I askedfor no details. Let the rush of osteoblasts and blood takeyou from me again. Because we are all bone, dear. Breaking down.Renewing. Solidifying. Before we fallto the parched rigidity of age.by Heather Smith Meloche***I'm going to add my poem early tomorrow (UPDATE: Ha ha! That's funny. Still haven't written my poem yet). I had a full day of teaching, yoga, and a poetry event with Eamon Grennan this evening!My students and I were looking at a photograph of Georgia O'Keeffe. I have a feeling the skull in my poem will be Georgia's famous deer skull.Finally... my Georgia O'Keefe-inspired poem.Deer Skull with FlowersBy Laura ShovanAfter Georgia O’KeeffeHe brought it home,left it in our yard,so I filled its eye socketswith white hibiscus,the red center of each flowerlike a pupil. I did not knowhow else to tell him, I have seenspent flowers curl themselvesinto their own shroudsand drop like sailorswrapped in canvas, pushedinto their ocean graves.He brought it home,so I placed between its antlersthree blue morning glories,The rhythm of their openingand closing reflected blueon white bone, like a bruisespreading and healingacross its cracked skull.***IMPORTANT NOTE FOR EVERYONE: Hey, poets. It's Day 19. I know we all feel like we're running out of steam. First, skip a day or two if that's what you need. Second, *push through.* By the time we get to Sunday, Day 21, you'll feel like we're all cascading down a mountain of words together through the last week of prompts.If I missed your poem for today, please let me know. I will add it ASAP.Reminder: Tomorrow, we’ll be spending Day 20  at Rush MacCulloch's blog, Deowriter. Interested in what we’ve written so far? Here are links to this week’s poems:Sunday, February 14FOUND OBJECT: Hot PotatoPoems by: Violet Nesdoly, Jessica Bigi, Laura Shovan, Carol Varsalona, Heidi Mordhorst, Diane Mayr, Linda Baie, Jone Rush MacCulloch, Mary Lee Hahn, Donna Smith, Charles Waters.Note: You will find links to all of  the Week 1 and Week 2 poems at this post.Monday, February 15 at My Juicy Little UniverseFOUND OBJECT: Coffee MugPoems by: Jessica Bigi, Matt Forrest Esenwine, Catherine Flynn, Laura Shovan, Mary Lee Hahn, Heidi Mordhorst, Diane Mayr, Buffy Silverman, Carol Varsalona, Linda Baie, Donna Smith, Julieanne Harmatz, Jone Rush  MacCulloch, Charles Waters.Tuesday, February 16FOUND OBJECT: SculpturePoems by: Victoria Costa, Jessica Bigi, Laura Shovan, Carol Varsalona, Mary Lee Hahn, Donna Smith, Catherine Flynn, Diane Mayr, Linda Baie, Robyn Hood Black, Buffy Silverman, Jone Rush MacCulloch.Wednesday, February 17 at Mainely WriteFOUND OBJECT: Hot  Pink SandalPoems by: Diane Mayr, Jessica Bigi, Carol Varsalona, Linda Baie, Catherine Flynn, Mary Lee Hahn, Buffy Silverman, Donna Smith, Jone Rush MacCulloch, Laura Shovan, Heidi Mordhorst, Margaret Simon.Thursday, February 18FOUND OBJECT: "Typewriter Eraser, Scale X" SculpturePoems by: Jessica Bigi, Diane Mayr, Donna Smith, Carol Varsalona, Mary Lee Hahn, Linda Baie, Catherine Flynn, Margaret Simon, Laura Shovan, Matt Forrest Esenwine.