Friday, April 2, 2021

Day #2: A Shadow Poem


Good morning! I'm so glad you're here, thinking about poetry. I hope you'll write today!

Consider shadows. 

What are they literally? What does it mean to shadow someone or something? Where do shadows add texture to life? Are you a shadow? Is someone or something a shadow of you? 

Here is the famous opening stanza of Robert Louis Stevenson's poem "My Shadow." If you want to read the entire poem, click on the link.







I wrote my shadow poem about poetry: 


I am shadows of

my poems.

And they are shadows of me.

We cast each other in silhouette granting privacy while giving form.

My poem is  the shape of me.

I am the bulk that  blocks the sun and sets the poem free of excuses.

No one doubts  the shadow’s  reason to exist.

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Try a shadow poem today! Use Stevenson's poem, or mine, as a "jumping-off point" to write your own, or close your eyes and think of shadows. What comes to mind? What do you have to say?


Happy writing!
AB

9 comments:

  1. Shadows are everywhere. Everyone is a shadow. Because we all have someone we want to be like. We become their shadows. And they become ours. Everything can be a shadow going places without a mask on, not worrying about school and sports, not being worried about a virus. All of these things are shadows of the past. Shadows what have been, and we could be. Shadows can be as simple as a smile, a shadow of our emotions. Even shadows can be shadows. They reflect us people, and our unique movements, they reflect the posture of growing up, and the pain of being tired. But how can shadow represent so much without a face?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Dante, I like the idea of a simple smile as a shadow of emotion. "The posture of growing up" was another satisfying turn of phrased.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Shadows can be anything, can take any form possible. The shadow of a person, the shadow of an animal, the possibilites infinente. We make shadows with our hands, in the light of day or flashlight. A shadow follows you wherever you go, no matter where you go. But when the sun comes out right or is shown a bright light the shadow dies and is no longer seen.

    ReplyDelete
  4. He always follows me wherever I go. Sometimes he disappears and other times he comes back quietly. He's done everything I've done, heard everything I've said, and he's seen all the things that I've seen. A true friend he is if you ask me, by my side, behind me, or even in front of me no matter what happens.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Laying in bed with
    the covers curled all around me
    scared of the shadow clinging to the wall

    Not knowing what to do
    Run or stay do I go to my
    Mother and father or do I dare stay

    Looks like a monster but really not
    Hanging in unison
    All three hats.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Silhouettes of you and me,
    Hovering beside you.
    A mirrored image
    Down on the ground.
    Oh,
    What a wonderful thing.

    ReplyDelete
  7. My shadow follows me wherever I go.

    To the bathroom, to my bedroom, to school, so on and so forth.

    Sometimes, the light bends, and it looks like it has disappeared.

    It has gone away forever.

    But it’s just playing tricks on me.

    It’s not really gone, just hidden itself in the light

    When I least expect it, it comes back,

    Reminding myself that there is no getting rid of something forever

    There is no such thing as forever.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Shadows lurking around every corner
    Following you as long as light allows

    Stalking and always behind you
    Observing your every movement
    Mimicking you in each way they can

    However they are not harmful
    Nor are they helpful

    They are just there in the dark
    Stalking, Observing, Mimicking
    Shadows

    ReplyDelete
  9. My body moves mechanically,
    There was no spoken rule.
    Yet still I wash frantically,
    Like a worker's mule.

    The bags under my eyes are dark,
    But today they're slightly less so,
    So it's the rare day I make a mark,
    And scale the kitchen top to low.

    And when they get home,
    I am secretly hoping for praise,
    To preen under attention,
    Even for a day.

    Yet all I'm told is that,
    I could have done it better.
    And then the shadow expands,
    Eating at me like an eternal debtor.

    ReplyDelete

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