Today's Inspiration & Writing Prompt

August 30, 2016


 Muriel Nelson


Strange beings we are.

Baby facemakers

               playing the lifetime sport

               of peek-a-boo.


Verify, verify, we say

believing our peeks

               between cheaters' fingers.  Look!

               Everything's true


(in wedges).  How magical, then,

are fingers and eyelids.

               When they close, powers go free.

               Wonderful, too,


are weaknesses.  Like mine

for strengths out of view --

                forces of tree candles, male cones,

                maidenhair ferns,


bulbs, seas, yeast.

Our fondness for bubbling

                in bread, egg whites, cream --

                the air we love


to eat.  Dearer still

is the air we can breathe

                but not notice while singing requiems

                and when, under our breaths,


pain arrives like sunset

in cathedrals, unhurried,

                taking over, dismissing all worries

                like children -- Yes,


you may go now, yes.  Then black

as windows' lead,

                pain looms.  You try to slow

                your breaths while it finds


that place behind the eyelids

and grows in the dark.

                You endure.  Then you see a stem --

                a live path -- to a quiet iris.


WRITING PROMPT:  Read this poem aloud.  Then, using it as a trigger, write a response, or whatever else comes to you.


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