Hide and Seek

I've been playing hide and seek with the Muse for a little while now. Luckily, I've been in the company of a group of women writers who are divine in their own write/right and supportive of the new kid at the table.

As a poet, it's daunting to be given a writing prompt and 20 minutes on a clock to produce something worthy enough to speak out loud. I've surprised myself. I'm writing more prose than poetry but the poetry is coming out, just like the green shoots of Spring.

So here's a poem which emerged from the following prompt:

"Today, portray violence in your writing."

After sitting with this prompt for a few minutes, an image popped into my head and the words flowed:

Town Square

 

a swinging rope

a holy oak

one-hundred years of shade

 

a swinging rope

a holy oak

faces devoid of shame

 

a swinging rope

a holy oak

a spectator sport

 

for the lame

of heart, of conscience,

of soul

 

save one child

 

alone

 

her innocence flown

past her lips

in a perfect O