Free Poetry ain't necessary free

Happy National Poetry Month, Poets I Love!

I wrote Free Poetry on Demand online the first 14 days of April.  I asked for prompts (a word, a phrase, a picture) from Facebook friends and got 'em in spades. I wrote 40 poems in 14 days.  

Some unexpected prompts:  regicide, blue lights in the mirror, the inevitability of reform (!?!), poop.  Yep, poop.  Poop turned out to be one of my favorite poems, a rather formal little rhymed piece about the #2 Topic of almost every distance runner I know.

I had planned to open up another round of free poetry for the second half of April, but I was ready to think my own thoughts again after 14 days.  I got some interesting stuff out of the free poems.  My own thoughts have barged back in with all kinds of plans already made for me.

The prompt for this one is the title.

Just in time

Just before the door closed.
Just before the crop failed.
Just before the fire went out
and wouldn’t start again.

The bell rang.
The rain came.
The kindling caught
the last dry wood.
Bacon sizzled
in the pan.

Perfect title.  All about timing.  Repetition holds it together.  Life goes on.  Looks like the end of the world (sort of), then the rain comes. . . .   I tried to relate the bell to the 1st stanza and couldn't.  Might want to help me with that.  Unless the door was at school (like the end of May?)  I like the poem and can't find much to make it better.  Good job.

I like the repetition, Karen... Almost like the lyrics of a song.  And I assume the bell is the doorbell.  Right?  I can smell the kindling burning... and the rain.  Nice play on senses...  The title and the ending make me almost want to catch my breath.  Thanks for sharing.  Dewell

Hula-Hula-Hooper! ( That is an inside joke that we will keep between us! We know our limatations, don't we?) They should have been at SC--I'll leave it at that.
 I wrestled with this short offering.I know this is a good poem, because you wrote it.  I feel a conflict between stanza one and stanza two. "The fire went out and wouldn't start again," and "the kindling caught the last dry wood."  Maybe I'm trying to read too much into it, or are you are trying to set up the 'bacon in the pan" picture for the soft end rhyme? I liked the rang, came, and caught, wood words that may not have had perfect rhyme, but in reading aloud has a kinship. You did touch the senses which is great in such a short poem. Pictures galore.

Karen

I am having trouble this month.  Sorry.

I am outside in this poem.  This must be line two's doing.  That line seems so large . . . too large for cooking bacon in a pan over an open fire.  (or inside over an open flame, wood stove, fireplace?)

It seems like stanza two could benefit from becoming a quatrain, loosely modeling the form of stanza one.  It is the stanza of hope, but rain and dry kindling seem difficult to bring together.

I'll just confess now.  This poem is about dating again after widowhood.  Something not on my agenda in any way, shape, form, or fashion.  Nonetheless, it appears my bacon is still capable of sizzling.

And yes, doorbell. 

This poem is growing on me.

I went LIVE with Free Poetry on Demand at Adair Faire in downtown Hot Springs yesterday afternoon.  I wrote no Shakespeare, only 5-minute pleasers, but I gave it my honest attention.  I had some conversations I am unlikely to forget any time soon.  A poet's heart beats in every breast, and I was honored to witness it.