"She refused to be bored, chiefly because she wasn't boring." Zelda Fitzgerald

Friday, October 29, 2010

Poetry Friday

New weekly feature here on my blog, "Poetry Friday." I was inspired when a blogger I read linked to this inspiring blog where the owner has challenged herself to write a poem a day (200 something, straight in a row so far!) and I also happened to be sitting down making a list of all the things I'd like to dust off in my life and one them happened to be that I wanted to spend more energy on my poetry.

Sometimes things just come together like that. So, I have joined in on Poetry Friday. I hope that I will write on-the-spot original poetry most weeks, but sometimes I may share poems I love by other authors or poems I've written at other times in my life and a little of the context.

Coincidentally, Melissa, the blogger who first led me to the daily challenge has begun her own Friday poetry highlight. See this week's edition to get a taste. Great minds think alike.

Today I am sharing a poem I wrote two years ago about this time of year when I set a little writer's prompt up for our mutual stimulation and suggested we each write an autumnal poem that has something to do with marking the season without connection to nature.

I had forgotten that I wrote it and then when I started baking again this fall in our new kitchen I discovered that our old oven is a little prone to be smoky and now when I start to cook Ru says worriedly, "Do you think it will make smoke?" And then winces in the direction of the "smoke proptector." Heh heh.

A Rite of Fall

In autumn my remembered
 Oven develops
 An appetite for
 Clouds of smoke,
 Belching them towards the
 Dozing smoke detector,
 To awaken him from
 Cobwebbed summer slumber.

Happy weekend everyone!

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