Day 12 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2018

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: "For today’s prompt, write a lament poem. Maybe you lament a relationship or a missed opportunity. Or maybe it’s that doughnut (maybe speaking from personal experience). Whatever it is, today is the day to let it all out — in poem form, of course." Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: "Today, we’d like to challenge you specifically to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. It may be the high sierra, dusty plains, lush rainforest, or a suburbia of tiny, identical houses — but wherever you live, here’s your chance to bring it to life through the charming mix-and-match methodology of haibun." This prompt is tied to "Our craft resource for the day . . . an essay by Aimee Nezhukumatathil on writing haibun — a Japanese form that blends prose-based travel writing with haiku." This is a wonderful essay, by the way: "More than the Birds, Bees, and Trees: A Closer Look at Writing Haibun." Merging both prompts, but not writing about my current landscape. Instead, the landscape where I grew up. Lament for Childhood The famed seven hills of San Francisco are actually myriad: hills and steep slopes everywhere in the seven-mile by seven-mile square of the city. Sidewalks that are stairways. Trees and houses clinging to ground that cant seemingly at 45°, climbing upward to starry skies. Small ethnic neighborhoods sprinkled around — Russian, Italian, Chinatown, the Black community of Fillmore Street, the Hispanic Mission District, Gay Castro — and the Haight Ashbury, the diverse, integrated neighborhood where I grew up before the hippies came. Downtown, in the Financial District, when I was a teenager, they built a new peak: the Transamerica Pyramid, tallest building in the city, vaulting up to the sky like the seven hills, a new eighth wonder to rival the world-famous towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. What a marvel, what a miracle, the city was in my childhood. Don’t call it Frisco. Native-born San Franciscans just say, The City. Living now thousands of miles away in snow country, I miss my hometown. Such deep richness and largeness of culture and utter beauty. San Francisco. steep hills, The City — pyramid skyscraper glows in my child mind’s eye —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. To comment, look for a red line below that starts Posted by, then click once on the word comments in that line. If you don’t find the word “comments” in that line, then look for a blue link below that says Post a comment and click it once. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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