National Poetry Month (2024): A Variation on Theme (3 of 30)

Thanks for stopping by Merely Day by Day. It's National Poetry Month.

 

For April I will be taking a deep dive into The Practicing Poet: Writing Beyond the Basics, edited by Diane Lockward. This book is full of 30 craft tips so it is the perfect way to shape this month's challenge and dig a little deeper into the craft of poetry. Stop by my Substack page, Merely in Progress, each day to follow this month's writing journey. There you will also find reflections, links, and inspiration across the challenge. 

Of course, this month is really about writing poetry so I will have a new poem posted here each day utilizing a craft tip from the book. I'm sure the ride will be bumpy, but there will be a lot learned along the way. 

Tip #3: Write the Dragon

I'm continually inspired by poets who can let the poem lead; by those who can stack their truths in lines and stanzas. Today I wanted to try the prompt suggested in The Practicing Poet: a theme variation poem. This proved to be a bit more difficult than I thought it would be when I set out to give it a try. I thought I'd use Credo (4th poem on page) by Donna Hilbert. Hilbert shares what she believes with lighthearted playfulness. I love the way she makes us fall in love with her beliefs by using specificity. 

She begins:

I believe in the Tuesdays

and Wednesdays of life,

the tuna sandwich lunches

and TV after dinner. 

With the news of the deaths of those working with World Central Kitchen to bring food to a warzone, it's hard to wrap my head around the ways of the world. I found myself nostalgic for days when the world seemed small and there seemed to be so much to believe in. 

Credo

variation on a theme from Donna Hilbert 

(with apology for making a light theme heavy)

I used to believe in

sunrises, in the possibility of

new days and second

chances. My world was 

small then: televisions with

three channels, phones

hung on walls, every

business run by someone

in the neighborhood. News was

limited to facts, shared only

once a day. My biggest task:

getting ready for school. Deciding

what to pack for lunch. All

disputes solvable. That was 

before I realized every

day there was war. Before

images of dying kept me

up at night. Before I carried

the weight of those crying out

in my heart unprotected. Now 

I look to the heavens wondering

what there is to believe in. 

Cathy Mere, 2024 (a variation of

Donna Hilbert's poem, Credo)