It’s Day 20 of Author Amok's 2015 poem-a-day
project. We are spending February writing in response to sounds.
For a full description of the project and how
to participate, please read this
post. I hope you'll join us. I'll continue posting poems from Day 19
as they come in. Thanks to everyone who has sent in poems so far.
Thanks for playing along today, everyone. I
know this prompt had a little bit of an ick factor for many of us. Our instructions were to go to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's online Macauley Library and ...
Our Day 20 prompt is:
pick your reptile sound.
 |
| He's a noisy fellow: Tokay Gecko |
I had to laugh when Margaret Simon sent this
note with her poem: “Reptiles are not my favorite, so I just chose the first
one.”
Stretched tight
rubber band
sling shots
guttural alarm
Gecko gets gumption
Let’s get Patricia
VanAmburg’s poem in here, because you’ll see the connection to the photograph
Margaret shared. This poem is a lovely little ode to our gecko.
Tokay Gecko
By Patricia
VanAmburg
Raspberries
to you O
red spotted
dragon—
the yoga
breath
of wind breaker pose—
gobbler of
small birds—
connoisseur
of crickets
I love the comical
little couplet at the end of Mike Ratcliffe’s gecko poem. Mike captures part of
what makes geckos such fascinating little creatures.
Gekko gecko on my wall-- croak-croak,
your name an echo of
your call.
Fifteen minutes, I
watch you crawl.
I must learn why you
never fall.
Hmm… Another gecko
poem. No rattlers? No giant monitor poems in the crowd? Here is Linda Baie’s gecko
poem.
Dreaming Distress (Tokay Gecko)
Kittens mew
Puppies whimper
Bears moan
Ponies nicker
And geckos,
geckos? Yes,
a sad tone,
squeaking screams,
but
softly,
in their dreams.
Linda Baie © All
Rights Reserved
Typical of me. I
had to, albeit unknowingly, be different. I wondered what the quiet juvenile
cobra in the video clips must think of all those noisy scientists.
The Cobra Yawns
By Laura Shovan
I yawn. The humans
are too busy
talking
to hear the quiet
crick
as my jaw stretches
wide.
I slide. Their chit
chat
hides the silky
brush
of scales on wood.
Muscles stretch.
Stripes glide. I
flick
my tongue at the
air.
Do they care?
They yammer on.
No wonder humans think
my coils are wound
without a sound.
Donna Smith ofMainely Write has a poem for team snake. She chose a snake that is common to
her home state of Maine. What a shapely poem.
Common Garter Snake -- Thamnophis sirtalis
by Donna Smith
by Donna Smith
S s
ss i i
s s i i l l
i i e t y
n
I crawl to be
over rocks
and under tree
and then I stop
and all you heard
was the
crinkly word
of a leaf
I crossed or a
crossing bee.
you won’t
hear
me.
One more for Team Snake! Thanks to Robyn Hood Black for sending in this rattler poem -- what a great metaphor.
Call My Bluff
by Robyn Hood Black
by Robyn Hood Black
ssingle
playing card
in the spokes of
my purple bicycle’s back wheel
speeding up/slowing down
back forth back
must be a
diamond
Wow -- the snake poems are making a late rally. Here is one from Charles Waters.
SNAKES ARE …
Animated,
Multi-designed garden hoses
Of serpentine movement;
Forked tongue flicker,
Fang baring, venom sharing muncher,
Buzzing like a radiator on the fritz,
A lawnmower sputtering to
An empty gas tank
Or a bike chain scratching
Concrete after falling off
Its frame.
(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.
And a true close encounters of the snake-kind story from Buffy Silverman:
"Yours truly was the nature center teacher with a bunch of fifth graders throwing hula hoops that landed around a rattlesnake."
Massasauga Morning
by Buffy Silverman
Away from the forest trail
they tromp through damp fields,
mud oozing under each sneakered foot.
They circle around as
the teacher explains their task:
toss the hula hoop,
identify and count every plant in the hoop,
record what they find,
then toss again.
The fifth graders jostle one another,
uncertain of how to begin,
their chatter a low hum of confusion.
Finally a girl steps forward, grabs the hoop and tosses;
the others sprint to where it lands
clipboards banging against eager legs.
They edge forward then
freeze
as leaves crinkle
grasses bend
under the slithering body
that stops
raises a rattle
its ratcheting sound
raising hairs on the backs of every neck.
The teacher hurries them away
to a safe distance
where they listen in awe
and watch the Massasauga.
Here are all of the sound prompts for the third week of February. I will post our final seven sound prompts on Saturday, 2/21.
Sunday, February 15
Video of Santa Fe's Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi by my Albuquerque friend, Jennifer Lewis.
Monday, February 16
Quaking aspen. Read more about this sound here.
Quaking aspen. Read more about this sound here.
Laughing child
The sounds of space
Museum stairwell
Friday, February 20
Follow the link to choose your reptile.
You'll need to turn the volume high to hear this one.
If you'd like some poem-starters to wake up your muse, you'll find them at the bottom of this post. Drop in any time with a poem. I’ll continue to post your work throughout the month, no matter which sound you are writing in response to.
Would you like to read what we’ve written so far? Here are links to the week 2 poems. You can find links to the week 1 poems on all of these posts:
Sound of Waves Poems by Patricia VanAmburg, Diane Mayr, Linda Baie, Laura Shovan, Margaret Simon, and Charles Waters.
Bubbling Cauldron Poems by Diane Mayr, Charles Waters, Laura Shovan, and Buffy Silverman.
Fireworks Poems by Charles Waters, Diane Mayr, and Laura Shovan.
Classic Typewriter Sound Poems by Patricia VanAmburg, Diane Mayr, Charles Waters, Mike Ratcliffe, and Laura Shovan.
Mockingbird Poems by Linda Baie, Mike Ratcliffe, Laura Shovan, Charles Waters, and Margaret Simon.
Cape Eagle Owl Call Poems by Linda Baie, Patricia VanAmburg, Charles Waters, and Diane Mayr.
Male Woodcock Mating Call Poems by Diane Mayr, Patricia VanAmburg, Mike Ratcliffe, Laura Shovan, Linda Baie, and Charles Waters.
8 comments:
I had to write about the gecko noise Laura--it was so (f)artful. Sorry. BTW, I admire your rhyme of sound/wound--can hear the slither.
Good ol' anonymous
I like the 'wound' and 'sound' too. When I listened to my 'tokay gecko' there was no picture, & the sound was rather screechy. Could there be more than one sound? I actually wondered what it would be like to be a recorder of reptile sounds. Sometimes I discover occupations that have never occurred to me, & how does one find them? Interesting poems all. I like the arrangement, Donna. I think I need to learn some more about reptiles!
Okay, I'm finally in. Confession - Wrote this during the time it took to play the recording, so it might need some polish? But I'm going to leave it here anyway or I fear I won't get back today! (Formatting not working here; if text is centered, the lines should give the desired effect!)
Call My Bluff
ssingle
playing card
in the spokes of
my purple bicycle’s back wheel
speeding up/slowing down
back forth back
must be a
diamond
Linda: my gecko sound was like sticking your tongue out and blowing.
And my sound was rather screechy, sounded fearful. Hm-m, now I know why they research the sounds, and perhaps observe the body movements at the same time? Thanks, Patricia.
I'm going to try to find your screechy sound Linda. P.
Thanks for posting my poem, Laura! I wish I could get indenting to work; if the lines are all centered it makes a diamond. :0)
Hi, Laura -
Can I leave one here for the Saturday (21st) sound?
Crescendo
melody
on a whiff of jasmine tea, and
birdsong
(You talk of flight.)
bow in balance on the string
I listen. Sip.
(You balance words.)
Look – someone has left open
the wire door
of the cage.
©Robyn Hood Black. All rights reserved.
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