Thursday, June 5, 2008

1st Thursday! Pony Up Your Poems!

Happy June, everyone! I'm saving the new stuff for another day. I've got plans man... In the meantime, from now until Tuesday (or thereabouts) you are invited to post your poems about Fathers. Your poem or a poem by a famous/published/well-known poet. Our only caveat this time around is the subject: dad. Your dad, someone else's dad. Grandpa, great-grandpa. You as a father. (ooohh...great writing prompt for women, write about yourself as if you were a father...)

Stop by next Thursday and post the links to your newly created patchwork poems.

As always, though I am, at heart, a rebel, there are a few "rules" we abide by here at patchwork poetry:

* We use only FULL LINES of other people's poetry in the creation of patchwork poems. Phrases and favorite words don't count (at least not around these parts).

* We DO change a tense or a participle here and there. Add an S, remove an -ED, minor stuff like that. The patchwork purist takes lines JUST AS THEY ARE. That is the challenge! That's why we're here. (Or, at least, that's why I started this thing...)

* We ALWAYS, ALWAYS credit our muses!

Thanks for poeming with me!


Anonymous said...

i think i'm jumping back in ... here's one:

Father's Song
by Gregory Orr

Yesterday, against admonishment,

my daughter balanced on the couch back,

fell and cut her mouth.

Because I saw it happen I knew

she was not hurt, and yet

a child's blood so red

it stops a father's heart.

My daughter cried her tears;

I held some ice

against her lip.

That was the end of it.

Round and round: bow and kiss.

I try to teach her caution;

she tried to teach me risk.

Anonymous said...


My Father's Hat
by Mark Irwin

Sunday mornings I would reach

high into his dark closet while standing

on a chair and tiptoeing reach

higher, touching, sometimes fumbling

the soft crowns and imagine

I was in a forest, wind hymning

through pines, where the musky scent

of rain clinging to damp earth was

his scent I loved, lingering on

bands, leather, and on the inner silk

crowns where I would smell his

hair and almost think I was being

held, or climbing a tree, touching

the yellow fruit, leaves whose scent

was that of a clove in the godsome

air, as now, thinking of his fabulous

sleep, I stand on this canyon floor

and watch light slowly close

on water I'm not sure is there.

Anonymous said...

Whose Mouth Do I Speak With
by Suzanne Rancourt

I can remember my father bringing home spruce gum.
He worked in the woods and filled his pockets
with golden chunks of pitch.
For his children
he provided this special sacrament
and we'd gather at this feet, around his legs,
bumping his lunchbox, and his empty thermos rattled inside.
Our skin would stick to Daddy's gluey clothing
and we'd smell like Mumma's Pine Sol.
We had no money for store bought gum
but that's all right.
The spruce gum
was so close to chewing amber
as though in our mouths we held the eyes of Coyote
and how many other children had fathers
that placed on their innocent, anxious tongue
the blood of tree?

Anonymous said...

last one from me. what did everyone else find?

Those Winter Sundays
by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he'd call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love's austere and lonely offices?

jillypoet said...

These are wonderful! I love the "blue black hands".

jillypoet said...

Here is a great link to a discussion and even more links about father poems: Poets org

jillypoet said...

And here is my offering for our patchwork circle: Dance Russe by William Carlos Williams

jillypoet said...

witchy, do the poems you chose appear here, lines intact?

Anonymous said...

yes, these are intact. i pasted them from and i'm realizing now i should have just done the links. forgot. (if you want to delete them and use links i don't mind)

but yes, these are in tact.

Anonymous said...

and i love that poem you added. i read it often.