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Life on the Deckle Edge

Poetry Friday - The Progressive Poem Parks Here!


Happy Poetry Friday. What Fun! The 2016 Kidlitosphere Progressive Poem, brainchild of our ever-ambitious and generous Irene Latham, parks right here today.

A couple of nights ago, my husband and I were strolling along the beautiful Waterfront Park here in Beaufort. Out in the river, coming into the harbor, was one of the Intracoastal Waterway cruise ships we see docked here a few times each month. Only this one wasn’t yet docked. It was gliding toward us under guidance from its unseen captain and crew.

The big boat slowly powered forward, then swung itself around in the opposite direction in a move that would make a falling cat proud. It gradually drifted sideways and backwards, parallel to the dock. When it got very close, crew members tossed out ropes to another shipmate who had hopped ashore.

It was quite the orchestrated event, and after its trip the big boat was settled for a few days. I was thinking how this communal poem is just a bit like that – a journey directed by different folks along the way, from Laura’s first line to the last one which Donna will provide. And lots of us in between, who don’t wan’t to toss out the ropes before the dock is in sight!

Many thanks to those who have penned lines up to this point, and the next several to come…

2016 Progressive Poem

A squall of hawk wings stirs the sky.
A hummingbird holds and then hies.
If I could fly, I’d choose to be
Sailing through a forest of poet-trees.

A cast of crabs engraves the sand
Delighting a child’s outstretched hand.
If I could breathe under the sea,
I’d dive, I’d dip, I’d dance with glee.

A clump of crocuses crave the sun.
Kites soar while joyful dogs run.
I sing to spring, to budding green,
to all of life – seen and unseen.

Wee whispers drift from cloud to ear
and finally reach one divining seer
who looks up from her perch and beams —
West Wind is dreaming May, it seems.



Golden wings open and gleam
as I greet the prancing team.
Gliding aside with lyrical speed,
I’d ride Pegasus to Ganymede.

To a pied pocket, the zephyr returns
blowing soft words the seer discerns



Now our poem travels to Ramona at Pleasures from the Page!

And if you’ll make your way to Jama's Alphabet Soup, our inspiring-as-always Jama has the Roundup this week. (Be sure to tell her thanks for rounding up all the great Kidlitosphere activities during National Poetry Month, too!)  Read More 
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