In the opening verse of Ode on Solitude, the 18th century English poet Alexander Pope professed:
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Considered one of his earliest poems, most likely written at the tender age of 12. Alexander felt contentedness is found on your own spot of grass, surrounded by familiar air.
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Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a Haiku from Natalie we enjoyed:
Cemetery spring
Spilling bouquets hide your name
Wind-blown and weeping
POETRY PROMPT: Do you live in a fast-paced city, a small town, or is the expanse of a rural landscape your home? Write a poem about the area in which you live. The atmosphere. Your native air.
Photo by Lali Masriera. 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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Dave Malone (@dzmalone) says
I love Natalie’s haiku. Superb!
Bethany R. says
Gorgeous haiku, Natalie Salminen.
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Well-done.
So much power in three lines.
Lovely, Natalie.
Glad you are here.
Joy Lenton says
I love Natalie’s haiku. Such a power-packed piece of inspirational poetry!
And I’ve been inspired by the prompt above to offer my own take on the theme ‘Native air’. I live in Norfolk, UK and we have access to bustling city, busy industry and tranquil sea.
‘My native air’
In a city not so far
from the sea is a place
where I live and breathe
Its native air once rich
with vanilla essence, chocolate
assailing nostrils in the park
Or laced with the leathery
tang of footwear industry
Today its fragrance
is office-nondescript and clean
Though often marred
by stink of cars as petrol fumes
emit their choking stream
But if you travel
just a little farther
you will scent sea air
A heady briny brew
hangs in the atmosphere
Yet no matter where I
may rest and reside
It’s in sweet fields of grace
where my soul abides
©JoyLenton2015
@pamcountonwords says
I moved to Eastbourne, UK more than 20 years ago but I have never lost the sense of awe that living by the sea gave me on the very first day.
The sea from the Channel maps and laps, crashes and mashes
And pounds the shore.
Gusty salt airs usher elderly pairs, teasing and pleasing, eroding their cares.
They are young once more.
On crunching drifts of grey stone flints that rubble and roll
under waves’ advances,
Sit teens set free, looking out to sea, sharing all they plan to be,
Exchanging vows and earnest glances.
The heavy scent of open blooms on Spanish brooms tells of Summer moons,
And silvered paths beneath evergreen trees.
As Shakespeare’s words are played, and hearts are swayed, with serenade
In the secret garden lulled by the sea.
Michael Garcia says
Small Town, USA
Tight knit people here aren’t quick to let you in
despite the nature calling you back again and again;
a stubborn people that’s clearly set in there ways
against a place so poetic you’d want to live your days.
Church cemeteries abound across the landscape,
born and raised here it’s a life they can’t escape,
its nostalgic surroundings appeal to my senses
but I just can’t stay in a town with false pretenses.
Copyright by NewLife2008
Jen says
I love this idea of “native air.” It’s not really a poem, but I wrote this… http://jenroseyokel.tumblr.com/post/115670454940/my-native-air