It's the Hump of the Week in the blog and actually Wednesday, the hump of the week, and, yes, today's poem-a-day prompt is "hump of the week." I laid all these out in advance for my local poetry workshop and an online forum, but they are surprisingly apt once we get to them. Yesterday's prompt was "well gone dry," and I learned that a number of people's poetry wells had gone dry, but I'm hoping the chance to write a poem about it got them through.
The little buzz one gets from writing all these poems is another thing that keeps me going during National Poetry Month, all that focused energy. But then there's the annoying buzz, the little do-bee from Romper Room telling me I've got to write a poem....
One woman who is doing a terrific job of writing and posting her poems is Risa Denenberg, who is posting her poems here, in her own blog, and also at Gazebo, where she participates in a poetry workshop.
Some of Risa's poems are exploring the hump of a life--that is, middle age and its stumblings and joys, sudden chin hairs, changes. I love her use of precise medical terminology: "Today I found a spider / angioma on my cheek" and, discussing her eyebrows, forehead, and scar, "supraorbital ridge."
As some of us keep writing our poems-a-day, we hope to get through this hump of the month, this hump of the spring, with its return to snow, its sudden hail and thunder, its floating mists.
"You must change your life," said Rilke. So that's what I keep doing. I've been an encyclopedia editor, a poetry editor, an actor and director, a library clerk, and an assistant professor of English. Now I'm a freelancer, work part time in a library, blog "eight days a week," study the random, tend perennials, and listen to birdsong.