Air, Breath, Wind Playlist & Prompt

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From In the Air Tonight to Just Breathe, this month’s playlist is a whirlwind assortment of classic songs and new-found favorites. Let the wind blow in your hair, crank up the volume, and whisk yourself away with some new jams. It’s time to ride like the wind.

Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a poem from Richard we enjoyed:

The shine was lopsome and hepsolee,
when dared strolled fair Rasannia
within the bost of Wimpersee,
where sythen wrot the freckful Snee.

Rasannia, Rasannia the sible ron—Hyyah!
Both fittle lok and briggen lok ner a’gwonoc, no ne.
The Snee is rample, rample so be quix a lok a la
and ner gwanoc the ron belon or ner a lok be ra.

Rasannia the Snee and thee we crix both ron and ray.
Monther and our Purrah teaper well the di and do,
tep ne, tep ne in ron or ray gwonoc to Wimpersee, asoo
there fittle lok and briggen lok may ner retoyatoo.

—by Richard Maxson

POETRY PROMPT: Write a poem about the movement of wind. Allow your words to flow as if it were caught up in the swirls and motion of the current.

Photo by Pai Shih. Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Heather Eure.

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Sometimes we feature your poems in Every Day Poems, with your permission of course. Thanks for writing with us!

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Heather Eure
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Comments

  1. richard maxson says

    Moonlight Sonata

    Countess Giulietta, for you the gentle
    ruminations came in simple chords,
    that rose and rose again in questions.

    You and he in midnight air, wordlessly,
    secretly, arm in arm, he in stride
    and you reticent, corset and train.

    Did Rellstab name it from a vision
    in Lucerne? Or was Quasi Una Fantasia
    for you, the love and dream.

    What garden, walked in moonlight?
    What visions came so hauntingly, silently,
    beautifully, like the quiet wings of night birds

    that nested in the strings, the grain of wood
    that felt his ear against its subtle breathing,
    when they sang of black fleeing into black.

    His lamentation turned to prayer, lifting
    to the night sky, descending to despair,
    again demanding the air deliver its motion.

    Giulietta, he did return to your measured step,
    in its darkest paces, resolved that Schiller’s Joy,
    astounding heaven, remained bound within him,

    bound in silence, but for the unbearable sound of faces.

    Reply

  2. Glynn says

    A shape defined

    A shape defined
    by the contours
    of what resists it,
    what it resists.

    Unseen, it smooths
    and roughens
    in simultaneous swirls,
    depending upon its mood.

    Wraps itself before
    dissipating, disappearing,
    its shape defined
    by absence, loss
    before arrival.

    Reply

  3. gassingon says

    The air didn’t care about the wind
    or its breath
    not very fair
    I hear you say
    in your slightly haughty way
    to be so uncaring
    not unkind
    or cruel
    for not sharing,
    just playing by the rules
    after all
    the wind will blow
    your way again
    and mine
    so we at least, in time
    may have another chance
    to make the wind and air
    and breath
    in time,
    be yours and mine.

    Reply

  4. Chad Wilson says

    I decided to take a stab at this prompt in a style of poetry that I have had a hard time coming to grips with: the villanelle.

    The Wind
    by Chad Wilson
    (a Villanelle style poem)

    as the wind travels across the plain
    across vast distance
    unimpeded by time’s constrain

    charging forth like a train
    speeding forward in an instance
    as the wind travels across the plain

    an unrelenting campaign
    an unstoppable dance
    unimpeded by time’s constrain

    only mountains can refrain
    thrusting like a lance
    as the wind travels across the plain

    it brings in the rain
    feeding nature’s plants
    unimpeded by time’s constrain

    though it may at times wane
    forever the wind chants
    as the wind travels across the plain
    unimpeded by time’s constrain

    Copyright © 2015 Chad Wilson

    Reply

  5. Maureen Doallas says

    In the city this spring

    rain falls like gold
    icing the sidewalk
    cracks fill with leaves

    of jasmine tea drained
    through a sieve of clouds
    swept suddenly away

    wind brings its chaos
    of souvenirs: scents
    of citrus and hyacinth

    — sky jacket and china
    pink — the show-
    stopping ballerina

    tulip and star-shaped
    lilac spicy sweet, plum
    honeying the clustered

    buds as the fountain
    of glistening tuberose
    dares the four-petaled

    mock orange to slip out
    beneath sun, find shade
    before the stars break

    our concentration
    we linger on a breath
    taste how air’s gone

    thick this Hawaiian night

    Reply

  8. Robbie Pruitt says

    Wind, Come In

    Swirling whispers of wind
    Breathe like bellows
    Pushing against the skin
    Changing direction
    And coming back once again
    Whispering, “Can I come in?”

    © March 4, 2015, Robbie Pruitt

    Reply

  9. Donna Saliba says

    The first poem I wrote was for my English class in 9th grade:

    Leaf

    Leaf,
    Golden as a wheat field;
    Fluttering through crisp air of autumn.
    Nowhere to travel,
    Just anywhere.
    The sun shown beyond the dancing leaves;
    Beautiful ballerinas in a fall ballet.
    Maneuvering all obstacles
    That may endanger a mere little leaf.
    A dim saddened pond
    Without a disturbance in sight
    Becoming cheerful as it finds a friend.
    The crumbly leaf awaits an invitation,
    Together a happy team.
    A cool breeze
    Creates a slight ripple
    Which scurries
    Quickly to the edge of the water.
    After an extravagant reunion,
    The leaf slides off the smooth water
    To dry on welcoming earth.
    The cool wind of darkness
    Relieves the leaf’s only friend-
    Loneliness.
    Mother Nature sends high winds
    Which awaken wildlife and plants
    From their needed beauty sleep.
    They now are all together,
    Protecting, loving, supporting each other,
    Because all are united under one sky.

    Donna A. Dissauer
    Copyright 2003
    As Published in A Young Woman’s Thoughts

    Reply

  10. Donna Z Falcone says

    Beautiful ballerina’s! I love that image… and the extravagent reunion is so unique a perspective! So cool….

    Really fun to read this, Donna… your first! Thank you for sharing it with us here. How special to still have your very first poem! 🙂

    Reply

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