For this week’s prompt, write a risk poem. That is, write a poem in which either the narrator, a character, or whatever takes a risk, or in which risk is involved. For those who like board games, yes, you can finally write that game about Risk that you’ve always wanted to do.
Here’s my attempt at this risk poem prompt:
“Doe”
I found her waiting–
blood-mouthed and confused–
inside the fence. She
let me approach, though
I heard her breathing
increase with each step,
afraid as I was
she might turn on me.
In silence, we held
our own until I
could unclasp the latch.
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After writing (and revising) your poems, find an audience for them by using the updated 2012 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer. This book is filled with hundreds of publishing opportunities for poets, in addition to articles aimed at helping poets get published.
BENIGHTED’S NIGHT SONG
I’ve walked out under Stars, until
I’m quite lost in the Dark. Black sill
behind me; Mountains scowling down
with their forested primeval frown. They wish me ill.
Be silent now, and wait.
How would you master Fate?
I see no Road, no Light to guide
me home. No Meteor to ride
over blind treetops. Where to go?
The Sky has gathered, brooding snow. On every side….
Sit still. Don’t move. Just wait.
Trust Dawn to show the Gate.
FINDING THE WAY
You never get back to where you started
under the blue of thermal threads unraveling,
dumbfounded with the words of angels.
Will you see again that ring of fire,
myth conceived of glacial-till and sparkle?
Under the blue of thermal threads unraveling,
wing-shadows of vultures. Updraft spirals
a landscape tilted and spinning –
myth conceived of glacial-till and sparkle.
You never learned your basic sciences,
and no trail leads back to yesterday.
A landscape, tilted and spinning,
grinds its heavy verbs against silence
as you sit. The skies keep moving,
and no trail leads back to Yesterday.
Don’t follow the gravity-way water goes
dumbfounded. With the words of angels
as you sit, the skies keep moving.
Can you get back to where you started?
“The Gamble”
My heart,
with eager steps
entered his casino,
entranced by his bells and whistles;
broken.
“G”
by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
Little Man,
You’ve got some big shoes to fill. My last rotty really knew how to throw down and rock it, so I expect no less from you. Though you’re half his size with a graying goatee and missing tooth, know that I still picked you out because you share that same silly grin trait; the kind that punches you in arm like an old college buddy then retorts pretentiously, head cocked to the side, “whaaaaaaat?!”
Know that I’ve taken on a big risk here with you, against advice at this late stage of my remaining life. As a stray without a back-story to accompany you, it’s scary having nothing to really hook a leash onto. No medical, no behavioral, no training records; I don’t even know if you like cats. You’re smaller, less confident, and most definitely less intimidating than my previous canine, so understand that while I still fought hard for you, I too have some legitimate concerns of my own. But when I love, it’s honest and long lasting. I would have easily taken a bullet for the other dog. I’m not sure yet if I’d run back inside a burning building for you. At this point all I have are ears that flap forward, and a pair of large pleading eyes, as gold-flecked brown as I remember my last furr-baby.
I realize it’s unfair comparing two entirely different dogs with all your own individual quirks and psyches, traits, and even phobias. But know that smile, that same silly “I know something you don’t know” boyish grin you both share, is what kept me returning to the shelter all month long for you, ’til I finally got the guts to take that giant leap of faith. I don’t know how long I’ve got left, G, but all I ask is just don’t let me down in the end.
© 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
Rope Walk
It stretches out above
the empty space
each swing to right
to left
each rise and fall
echoes each step
eyes trained on rope’s end
each slide, lift, stride
edging us closer
the goal calls
demanding perfection
patience in each
muscle’s fiber
Seeking the outcome
a life well-lived is
much the same
balanced precipitously on
a slack rope above a
circus of performers
clowns and onlookers
Roll the Dice
Few would laugh while many cried.
Some lived on though others died.
“Have your fun.” the doorman said.
Watch yourself, don’t loose your head.
Step into the venomous pit.
Find a knife. Cut a slit.
Slash you deeply. Watch you bleed.
Less to want. More to need.
Dim the bright lights. Hear the sound.
Step right up. Gather ‘round.
Pull the lever. Spin the wheel.
Seems too heavy. Is it real?
Turn away from all the danger.
Not a friend. More a stranger.
Deal the cards. Roll the dice.
Not too pretty. Not too nice.
By Michael Grove
Apex
I put my faith
In glittering wings
to overcome the gravity
in my life,
to travel cross-country,
and leave those whom I know
behind.
At the apex of flight,
I know we won’t go higher,
but fear a fall.
As I cast a wary gaze
on the ground
and passing sights below,
I put my faith
in hands of the pilot
to whisk me to places
I’ve never seen,
with other lives and destinies
left to claim,
on the vacation
I dare to take.
i sent out queries
with some sample chapters too
please don’t break my heart
Risk or Pleasure
Well you know what they say
One mans trash
Is another man’s treasure
One finds escape
While another finds pleasure
Without a Net
High-wire acrobat
keeping my balance
above the crowd,
heel-toe, heel-toe,
long pole stretching
on either side of
my sweaty grip –
careful not to slip
on the wet ink
of fresh words
inching to the platform
on the other side
I exhale to applause
my new poem is a hit
I didn’t notice this until I posted mine. The similarity surprised me. I purposely don’t read anyone’s work until I submit mine.
Yeah, that’s happened to me too. Just read yours too, and I like it.
The Lovings
He looked like the classic good ol’ boy –
blond crew-cut hair, blue eyes,
muscular sunburned neck.
She was graceful, a soft-spoken woman,
half-black, half-Indian. They were in love,
not caring about a Virginia law that would
throw them in jail for the heinous crime
of being married to each other.
He had nothing to lose – he could have
just walked away, saying it wasn’t worth
the trouble, but they vowed to fight
an inhumane, senseless law that threatened
to tear them apart. One judge said
if God had intended for the races to mix,
He wouldn’t have created them
on different continents. This was in 1963.
It took four more years for their fight
to reach the highest court in the land,
where nine white male judges voted
unanimously to strike down the law.
If you see their photographs, home movies
and news interviews, you can feel
the deep affection for which they fought
so hard, for themselves and their children.
How much would you risk for love?
Fortified
I assume a defensive posture
Behind the stone walls
Of this fortress,
My labor of self-preservation.
A nearly fatal injury
Has left me wary and suspicious,
Unsure if I can risk
Exposing the weaknesses
In my armor,
The fragile heart
Masked by bravado
And deceptive confidence.
My elastic memories
Snap me back into the pain
But can’t quite cancel
The glowing embers of hope
That tempt me to tempt fate again.
I hear temptation at the door
Encouraging me to gamble
With my weakened emotions,
While I still don’t know
If the other side of that door
Hides a savior or saboteur.