There are only so many ways to be proud of what I have written, but I am happy to share my poem, Old Ford Galaxy in the Woods, has been published at Free Verse Revolution!
Free Verse Revolution shares poetry centered around its ever-changing monthly theme, as well as poems written by budding and established writers in response to weekly prompts. With an ever-growing plethora of words that touch the soul, I am honored to be a part of the poetic revolution.
I struggled to unearth a story in response to July’s theme, galaxies. The only galaxy I knew of was the worlds in the sky and that seemed a story able to be told in a few words while I wanted to say something new.
On the verge of not writing in response to the prompt, my father pointed out that a galaxy was also a classic Ford car. That gave me something new to think about, since I even remember trailing my fingers along the doors of abandoned Ford Galaxie’s, rusty with age, down in a hidden car lot a walk through the woods from where I live. I used to wonder, walking among the sad cars in that lot, what stories were behind the vehicles left to moss and rust.
Something obscure, like an old car, was what I wanted to write about so I looked up images of this old classic and put my pen down to paper and my poem fell together.
This experience teaches me to look beyond the obvious and unearth the stories that are passed by. We all choose what we write about and, while I could have written an excellent poem on the cosmos, I was not called to that tale.
Follow your creativity.
If you are so called, in the meantime, I invite you to enjoy Old Ford Galaxy in the Woods.
I found it
Listening to the creek sing
With closed eyes.
No sticks around
This ancient shrine
From female oak trees.
I close my eyes
And see ghostly ruts
In the creek bed
Watch the water swirl brown
At each wheel’s passing.
I see a
A white shoe on the grass
An exclamation as an acorn
Nearly wrenches her foot.
There falls a brimming circle of shade
As blue slippers step down
To the bank
Balance on a rock beside the stream
And a hat flies from a slender hand
Wafts with the wind
Touches the water
And is devoured.
The colors are lost now
The laughter stolen by the trees
But the rust
Shines through the moss on this ancient shrine
Speckles itself like the Milky Way
Tells of stardust
That glittered these woods and
The white and blue doves
That flew to Venus.
Please do share your lovely thoughts!
Featured photo by Fabian Wiktor on Unsplash
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