stories in the backyard

I

From my corner of the couch,
outside is just a twist
and a crick of the neck away.
I turn around
and search the window
for a sampling of the backyard.

II

The screen:
a wire mesh drawn tight
dividing the view into tiny windows.
Pixilation.

III

A spider’s web:
curving across the window
in concentric silk rings
waving gently in the wind’s breath
sagging at the bottom
beneath the bloated weight
of a soon to be meal.

IV

A single remaining section of wrought iron fence:
rusted red and black
ornamental ironwork unbent—
swirling a mirrored
fleur de lis
to mark where the gate once was.

V

A log:
split by sure axe strokes
but each splinter now
weathered brown and grey,
angled as though
it wishes to fall.

VI

A bullfrog:
squat and warted,
hops from behind the wood pile,
stares at the window
for
a
long
pause
disappears into the pond.

VII

A single ornamental river reed:
rises from a tangled mass
of his dead brothers,
towering tall, slender, and green
crowned by seeds
feathering out,
like the plume on a drum major’s helmet.

VIII

A dead vine:
hanging past the window
brown and green and grey.
no leaves—
just curlicues of tendrils
marking where they used to be.

IX

A stray cat:
black,
crouches on the lip
of the ornamental pool
repositions,
crouches lower—
flummoxed by the water
he stands
and stalks away
to wash up.

X

A stone turtle:
moss stains white marble
green where a chisel
etched out the lines
that divide its plates.

XI

A robin:
flashes red,
almost too quick for my eye to catch,
flits from a bush
and confronts the cat
before disappearing again.

XII

Too much lies past the surface.
my brother had just
flushed the toilet when
a tree crashed over the fence to fill the yard;
he blamed himself.
my sister carved the turtle and left it
but cannot escape it;
we give her turtles every year.
the poison ivy vine
catches my father as he works
wearing away the skin on his arms
until they are raw and oozing—
each image overflows with story.
As I turn my back and write,
my shoulders itch
at the memory
living behind my back.

Prompt ▼

Prompt for: Sept 10, 2015 (fyn)
Subject or Theme: : See! Look outside, or go for a walk. Observe what is around you. Not a scene but individual things. A cloud, but not the sky. A bird but not the flock of them.

Twelve stanzas.
First stanza should be where you are—let the reader know where you are walking or looking (down the street, out the window, across a field) Here you can use generalization about where you are. (For example meandering across a wide open field.
The next Ten stanzas. Look small. Notice the little things. For example what is crawling between the blades of grass or on the bark of the tree. Each stanza is a distinct, different observed ‘thing’ (for example: the ladybug, not the ladybug crawling on a leaf. That is two things.--. You could describe a flower including stem and leaf because that IS one entity. Use only observable description.’
The last stanza wraps up the poem, ties your observations together. Do NOT say anything like “This is what I saw out of the window or on my walk.” Here you can comment on what you might have missed or the benefits of observing what’s around you or something you never noticed before.


Word(s) to Include: : flummox, bloated, confront (or any derivatives of these words)
Forbidden Word(s): walk, see, look, observe, notice, crawl (or any derivatives of these words)
Additional Parameters: Be descriptive. Take the reader with you (in a manner of speaking) such that we see what you see.

PAY VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO SAMPLES PROVIDED

Remember, do not use forbidden words ANYWHERE, including title or the brief description.