During free-writing in class yesterday, I worked on some quick poems as they were writing all sorts of things, from comics to stories to letters to their own poems.
Four/Four
A set of drums
Fast pedal clock click
His hands hitting cymbals
An intricate rhythm stick
In near perfect balance
An intricate rhythm stick
In four-four time
The drummer never quits
Each note becomes another
Drive it home, forward
His hands hitting cymbals
The beat of feet
The guitar is gone
The bass drops out
The singer now sits
The drummer never quits
a variation on a 4×4 poem via Open Write
Voices spill out
beneath the door,
sound as shafts of light —
in escape,
shadows wait for more,
for us to linger
a little longer, our ears
pressed against the wood —
if only we could
drop beneath the eaves,
maybe then we’d believe
Dry mouth soil
savors these rains,
nearly forgotten by brittle Earth —
we were warned, remember,
about the flames,
the first spark ignites the dark
as the monsters came —
subsumed by an act of madness,
the kind only nature brings
Yet here we were, singing
the praise songs again,
the clouds dropping gifts up us
the rain
the rain
the rain
Peace (in verse),
Kevin