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The other day, after becoming TOTALLY enamored with word clouds, I issued a challenge to Jane over at Making it write to see if she could take a word cloud from one of my poems and write a poem from it. I was curious as to if the content of her poem would be anywhere close to mine. She took me up on it, and I am THRILLED with the result! Have a look… This is my poem (reposted from 1/24/15).
`

Mornings

Swallowed by blanket and quilt,
I stir in our March-chilled basement bedroom
and see you in the wakening light
fresh from your shower,
poised at the open closet
debating which shirt goes
with which pants.

The smell of steamy bathroom collides
with perking coffee and
wafts its way downstairs
coaxing me from my lair,
while the sound of the news
on the portable kitchen TV
punctuates the need
to get on with the day.

I rebel, laying a moment longer,
just watching you
and marveling at how little it takes
to make my morning perfect.

`

Here’s the Word Cloud.
Morning

 

`
And here’s Jane’s lovely answer to my challenge!

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Rebel

They remember
marveling at their child of light
stirring beneath quilt and blanket,
perking up to see them,
wakening each day
with a perfect smile.

Without a sound,
the chill,
like a stir in the air,
begins.

A  shower gel smell,
steamy fresh,
wafts from the bathroom,
trails through his bedroom into the kitchen,
collides and is swallowed
with the coffee.

He rifles through the closet,
argues about which shirt,
which pants.
There is no coaxing him.
He takes to debating when
the T.V. anchorman
tells his news.

Loudly
he punctuates every need,
before he goes
downstairs
to the basement,

a fresh little rebel
waiting in his lair, poised
to march forward

and away.

fist-424500_960_720

 

 

 

 

 

 
`

Can you picture the man at the closet as a tiny baby and a rebellious teenager? I LOVE THIS!!! Well done, Jane!!!

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