Begin with a Start Poem
Start
You’ll wonder if it’s time
over a lunch of
tomato soup
and grilled cheese.
You’ll wrap your cardigan
tighter.
You’ll think of cinnamon and apples.
It’ll happen when the cicadas change
their summer tune
to a low lullaby—
a constant hum—
a song that fades
and lasts
at the same time.
You’ll know late at night
when your flip-flop
breaks—
because you were squeezing your toes tighter
from the shift in the weather
and the tension in the conversation.
What is ending? What is on its way?
The leaves, heavy with change,
trembling with anticipation
to bloom into color before death,
will converse with the wind
and you will hear them:
“It’s time,” they’ll hush,
“Start.”
Try It: A Start Poem
When do you know it’s time to start? Write a poem about it.
Photo by Giuliano Belli Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.
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I have been a fan of Callie Feyen’s writing for quite some time but I finished this book in almost one sitting. If you have ever been in 8th grade, fallen in love, had a best friend, or loved reading, you will love this book. As the mother of an 8th grader, my other genuine hope is that my son will one day have a teacher as gifted as Callie.
—Celena Roldan
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L.L. Barkat says
!
I love this simple post, Callie.
Great prompt. Can’t wait to share. 🙂
Callie Feyen says
Thank you. 🙂
Andrew P Guzaldo says
“Archipelago Refuge”
My Heart Inflections
“Abate agonizing when the grieving troposphere reaping,
As it navigates a shift as the pulverizing leaflets,
As this tender moment of nature steals upon me my deep, emotions as we drift from the Archipelago,
As the steep tall rocks swerve towards the edge of the, precipices we navigate towards our archipelago refuge,
As my heart inflection my heart beats vivaciously through my entire body,
Conscious only of you I belong to you there is really,
A way of expressing that is not impregnable enough,
All that my soul pines to express at this instant,
Is included in the one word avidity,
A total contradiction of life if I were with those,
I loved I would only wish to be in obscure distance,
Now as I am far away all I do is wish for one more day surrounded by those I love that home could be,
Odyssey bound for the homeland on the briny deep afar that father and husband’s longing, as it seems that,
Gaviiform seabird bellows with tumultuous placidity,
Sleep the blossoms of a future flower,
You have, by your tenderness and worth twisted yourself more artfully round my heart,
Then I supposed possible on this my refuge,
Archipelago Refuge”
By Andrew Guzaldo July 17, 2022 © #211
Susie Teramura says
I love this poem!! So many lovely thoughts and images. Thank you!!
Andrew P Guzaldo says
“NEVER PRETEND”
Poetry teaches one to read delusion,
A delusion that is put into words,
And becomes a reality of beneficence,
Although many of these things do not,
Come to pass,
However it is a poet’s best way to life,
In the art of Expression maybe not,
For himself but for the beneficence,
Of others in the best way possible,
To live life through academician,
Brightness of the days gives one side,
When there is darkness another spectrum,
Of a unusual poignancy,
A poet/writers life is always looking,
For that appropriate or peculiarly meaning,
Day dreaming of a delusion,
Or a nightmare with a pertinent validity,
And when everything is so onerous,
You want to reach a point of imperious value,
Of mind body and soul of a loss,
To dream and think so lofty with no end,
An uninterrupted moment of solitude and words,
Of course moments of cessation rest,
In all this words teach me to care for loved ones,
Or that of a dear friend,
Until we as lovers may meet once again,
Consistently truthful and NEVER PRETEND”
By Andrew Guzaldo 2/2018 Posted H.P P.S
Pauline E Beck says
Starting at the End
When the rumbling sky
Turns from sprinkling
To spewing torrents
And turns you away
From late August work
Of repairing the lane
And readying the lawn
For Autumn’s advance
Winter’s sure precursor
You turn inside and inward
Finding time now to notice
Signs of life’s slipping
From green growth of youth
Into the gentle fading of age
Trees turning to rust
Gardens giving up their last
Gifts on the altar of time
Inside you find that seed
That starts to grow a poem
A grain of winter wheat
Waiting to germinate and
Bear fruit a hundred-fold
You hold it close and close
Out all the world’s calling
You to get busy and do
Late August’s inside work
You stop and start to write
Your poem–your last gift
On the altar of time
van prince says
*Love In Season*
I touched my fingertips
to warm lips
blowing a kiss
into rainy weather
tenderly loving you forever-
I talked to you
through life’s distances of lightening striking
saying, ” I love you right or wrong
echoing through the thunderstorm”-
I thought about you
through the snow
where the beauty of love always show-
I thought about you
through the sleet
remembering our love-making between silk sheets-
I thought about you
through the hail
where love never did fail-
I thought about you
through all of Winter’s cold season
for every passionate reason
to love one another
forever bringing us closer together-
_-Van Prince
Pauline E Beck says
As winter waits with frosty breath
on the other side of the advance of autumn,
your poem has reminded me of love’s power
to drive out the cold outside and within.
Thanks for sharing this.
van prince says
“To Love and understand Love, Love must be uppermost on your Mind,
innermost in your Heart, and deepermost in your Soul.”
_-Van Prince
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Pauline,
This is so beautiful:)
“Gifts on the altar of time” and “You hold it close and close” are the two lines I’ll take with me. Yes, I’m stilling breathing, friend and no, I haven’t forgotten you. Have just been averse to my screen and keyboard for a while. Think you’ll relate to that you pencil-pusher, you;) Ha, ha!
Katie
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Pauline,
Not sure why this didn’t land under your “Starting at the End” poem, since I clicked on the reply in the box – ?
Katie
Van Prince says
“Poertry
Has Its Own Country.”
_-Van Prince
Van Prince says
*A Look At Love*
When a man kisses a woman
her eyes close
looking intio his heart searcking into his soul
to know whether that love is there for her
that-which she feels for him
_-Van Prince
van prince says
“Poetivity is the creativity of innovative new ideas
making poetry idea
in all genres of writing from 1-to-10 comprising ABCD-to WXYZ in productive ordeals
from 100%-to-360-degrees on local, national *&* international stanzas
supporting poems of every variety!” _-Van Prince
van prince says
I’m not a self-sent poet
I’m a God sent poet
the way I feel as a poet
I heve faith I’m a God sent poet-
I do my Quotes *&* Poems impromptu
I write my manuscripts for books
by writing, rewriting, proof-reading *&* editing
*&* thanking God for such talent *&* skills to do so-
I look up to no human
nor do I look down on any individual
I respect all people
I do not brag or booast
I congrats *&* honor all writers
of every genre-
I am not perfect
I strive for perfection
in producing literary poetic content
in away to present
my writings I represent-
I wish every writer the best
in achieving writing success
by bringing positive content to the world
*&* getting paid $top$ finance$
progressing into an author
of character, intellect, *&* integrity-
By: Van Prince
By Andrew Guzaldo 2/2018 © says
“Antidote to Optimism”
“Our task is to show that however,
Wonderful things may appear,
In today’s World and lifestyle,
They may not be all that great,
Even the darkest night will end,
And the sun will rise regardless,
Our optimism changes to pessimism,
Roses that may grow on a stone,
Not in the earth as optimism has shown,
Love can exist or it can turn parasitism,
It’s wrong to believe that all will be optimistic,
That parasitism will continue to exist,
Oceans feel the love the upsurge bares,
The stones of the rock will bear a flower,
Rain will fall and so kisses the flower,
Will endure there growth of optimism,
Solitude will bring a cumbersome heart,
Depression will remain in a semblance,
New destiny will precede the pessimism,
As loves fate arrives pessimism succumbs,
To an optimistic aspect until ones last breath”
By Andrew Guzaldo 2/2018 ©
van prince says
*What Is Poetry*?
Poetry is about prose weaved into poems
poems not ruled by color nor by race
poetry minus prejudice or discrimination
belonging to no Nation
nor included in any equation
of inequality
Poetry will always show
poems of any form, shape, *&* fashion are pure as the driven snow
By: _-Van Prince
Andrew P Guzaldo says
“Poetry and its Undertones”
“Many poems are of unfeigned sadness,
Poems of heartbreak or a lost love,
A joyful poem may need an assemblage of words,
With various copious avenues in composing poetry,
It is emotions channeled onto a piece of paper,
It is an expression of the heart the mind and the soul,
The art of writing or reading poetry begins when,
As one Masters connotatively in particular poems,
Poems are of different moments subjects heartfelt,
Example when I write a poem as you will find in mine,
In my poems I look for an adherent word to express,
In writings I look deep within my inner feelings,
The title of an adhered poem should grasp attention,
As to identify sense of what the poem is about,
As little as quite a few poems will give insight
As your words and feelings grapple traces,
Of my poetic undertones”
By Andrew Guzaldo May 07, 2021 © #203
Andrew P Guzaldo says
“Whispers of the Zephyr”
“Recognition that you are here,
Final adjustment mending next to me,
A breath of your warmth upon my skin,
Exchanges of the single ember within still burns,
As I hear whispers in the wind,
Rustling through the formulations,
I’ve sketched in encroaching the littoral,
To the special one to claim these pages came,
Interpretation existing of years passed,
The circumspect to go diligent stride,
To a worn and tattered old ideal,
Hero from the ancient bindings of a book,
Haunting whispers in the Zephyr,
Rustling through the formulations,
Breaching the palisades of time,
This the whispers in my mind”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 04/30/2022
van prince says
“Poems are verb superb rare
and I set within my poetic soul
watching to witness the darkest hour just before dawn
I cry out to see from through my vivid imagination
the spectrum of the Rainbow after the storm
reflecting the blazing colors of Autumn
highting the ultimate beauty of the Solar System
definding the music and magic of the Universe”
By: Van Prince