Well, Easter brunch was as fun as it could be. I tried pastrami for the first time, ate a ton of acorn squash, and mastered French toast sticks. Here is where I give a shout-out to Mrs. Lee from RNJH—French toast is one of two recipes I learned in your class and still cook regularly! (The other is lemon-butter asparagus.)
I am currently sitting in a branch of the Austin Public Library, finishing up this blog post. Really, I should be finalizing a presentation for a conference at which I’m presenting this coming Saturday. That will come later, I guess. Before 8:00 PM (when the library closes.) I cycled here. The wind was horrendous. Anyone else hating this wind lately?
Prompt (Day) 17: Write a Mad Poem
I saw an Instagram reel earlier today that mentioned how when we experience minor annoyances, that’s our brain’s way of telling us we need better boundaries.
I had articulated a similar thought to Taleri a while ago. She asked why I became annoyed so easily at so much. It’s how I learn what situations I should avoid if I want to preserve my mental health. (Fortunately, nearly all of my annoyances are minor, like avoiding Domain NORTHSIDE whenever possible.)
Today’s theme is from the perspective of a cyclist: Drivers who don’t use turn signals. I’ll add two options today: haibun (like haiku, same syllable count) and shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5 syllable line format.) I enjoy shadorma, but don’t get a chance to use it often.
Turn Signals, Variation 1
Two vehicles meet
Both pause, a courtesy
One will not signal
Turn Signals, Variation 2
Vehicles
meet at a crossroads
both paused
courtesy
neither will signal intent
yet one proceeds left.
Prompt (Day) 18: Write a “We [Blank]” -titled Poem
This is one of those poems ideas you come up with at 6:00 AM, then allow to percolate for the rest of the day. I felt inspired by an Instagram caption I posted to my private Instagram account during July 2021.
The form finally came to me as I was on my lunch street skate. Rhyming couplets in iambic pentameter, a style I don’t often gravitate toward writing. (Yet, I love reading iambic pentameter.)
Here is my love letter to Padre Island National Seashore.
We are Beach People, After All Lots of people write beach poems these days We view the same sky, we know the same waves I failed for sixteen years to comprehend why my uncle left his ashes to the sand From this point, there is nowhere else to flee Ashbery's beach, "No Further," grand place to be When I discovered that national shore A sense of calm I'd never felt before Is it the same for everyone, I wonder? We scooped up sand to secure our shelter The midday sun warms our shoulders and legs Gulf coast winds threaten to blow our tarp away Swells crash against me entering the water I can't imagine a feeling better Sands caress every inch of my toes I think to myself, "Surely, I am home."
kellyekosanda 