Foolproofed - 4. Week 3

Foolproofed-Week 3

Day 15

I was like the needle in a compass carried through the forest by

an orienteer with a thumping heart,

you,

I pointed us firmly north,

nothing deterred me on our way in the right direction,

uneven ground, rivers, rocks and fallen trees, obstacles appearing out of nowhere,

nothing.

Then a pole shift happened.

Now you lead us.

Going South, somehow feels like going downhill.

(Let’s start our poems today with a Tranströmer epigraph, [and finish with a Tolkienish quote].😉)

Day 16

Rain water collects on the tarpaulin covering the pool. Decaying leaves hide the bottom of the pool’s pool.

The only thing that disturbs the surface is a bird taking a bath.

I am caught in a drop flying away from its soggy feathers.

The only thing I can think of when my sphere breaks, is that I came from the impossible:

a squared circle.

(Tranströmer form imitation exercise)

Day 17

On the way to work—

Monday’s me got distracted by a butterfly,

followed until it reached a field of flowers,

stood still and admired the view.

Tuesday’s me saw water gleaming silvery in the distance,

followed a road until it ended at a riverbank covered by reeds,

inhaled and sneezed.

Wednesday’s me fell asleep on the train,

dreamed of masks hanging on a clothesline until the car rattled over a switch,

startled awake and missed the right station.

Thursday’s me skipped the stairs,

took the elevator instead and stepped off on the wrong floor,

happily landing on the rooftop.

Friday’s me forgot to lock the bike,

came back to a yawning emptiness,

spent the rest of the day at the police station,

and drank too much coffee.

(Detour Prompt)

Day 18

And then their dog Rocket leaps higher than the moon,

crashes and makes a crater.

He digs a large hole later

to bury a coon,

under a whole alligator.

This grammar lesson is over soon.

The homonym nonsense too.

(Grammar)

Day 19

The season fades from green-yellow into red-blue in June,

when currants become plump and firm, ready to be picked,

strawberries almost burst from stored sunlight,

and ripe raspberries sway in the gentle breeze,

then bramble waits to be conquered beside the other well-fortified bushes, the gooseberries,

and finally,

the blueberries wait eagerly to be mixed with pancake batter or dropped into muffin tins.

Berry delight.

(Berry poem)

Day 20

She is a graceful dancer,

a silent entity of eternity,

moving indefinitely through eons,

from past through present to the future.

The faster she pirouettes the slower she drifts through the fourth dimension.

(About Time)

Day 21

The cursor blinks, waiting for digits to be entered.

Where to go? When to go?

Berlin during the Weimar Republic?

The Attic democracy?

Do I want to applaud when chests of tea land in the Boston harbor?

Meet a real samurai, perhaps...

See the Uluru 550 million years ago?

Oh! Dinosaurs!

Or even better, standing at the banks of the primordial soup watching proteins assemble.

What about the future five thousand years ahead?

Or—I stay in the present, where I belong.

No hassle with the much-invoked time paradox this way.

(Time machine)

Thank you for reading my poems. Any reaction is very welcome.