Over at dVerse Poets Pub I’m urging fellow poets to let go of abstract concepts and describe things as concretely as possible in a poem combining household objects and adjectives describing emotions or feelings.
The Brave Garden Furniture
Grime-filled white plastic piled in rotting corpses
turning hepatic yellow –
no money for wicker with its creaks close to breaking –
squish of inherited flowery cushions with plump squeezed out
alongside faded stripes and polka-dots.
We remove the slugs with squeamish squealing
we pile up the chairs.
Stronger winds will still scatter them across the lawn,
no matter how they hunker down together.
Into the garage they go: that black hole from which few return…
I wish I could hear their gossip.
All winter the long table will groan under layers of snow
without its playmates.
Another summer over.