Today's NaPoWriMo assignment asks participants to write a poem in response to another participant's poem. In order to do this, as there are many very talented individuals participating in this internet meme, I randomly selected a participant's site by scrolling through the list with my eyes closed. The site I selected was Cloaked Monk's Blog. The poem I'm responding to is http://cloakedmonk.com/2011/04/02/april-2-challenge-postcard/.

It Must Be Beautiful

It must be beautiful to sit
at the base of the mountain
Looking up at possibility 
Reaching for the heavens

It must be peaceful to have
the city at your back
A mere memory of business
When you put up your feet 

It must be humbling to rest
In the shadow of her peaks
Setting aside self for serenity
While rain paints your windowsill

I put my feet up here at home
Lean back staring at your postcard
And dream by the windowsill
Of my own vacations to come   

Today's assignment at the Poetic Asides blog asked participants to write not one but two poems today - as it was two-for-Tuesday. This consisted of writing both a goofy poem and a serious poem. While Robert Lee Brewer listed the goofy poem first, I think I'm going to write the serious poem first, and then leave you on a humorous note. 

His Liver

It's said the liver is capable of regenerating itself
Should there be enough healthy liver cells to do so
And I bow my head in church, saying a prayer
Tears streaming down my cheeks as I pray
That his liver has enough of those cells left
A family of strangers surrounds me praying
for their own concerns and for their own joys
And I try to let gratitude, that he still has now, 
Today, fill my soul. For it is with grace 
And not fear that we move forward and do not
Stagnate. Some may bend in such cases
Instead I put his life in His hands, remembering
See-saws, baseball mitts, and hot dogs
Fighting over toys in the sandbox
The boy who put his cap on the German shepherd
I remember laughter without reservation
And I remember that regardless of the cells in his liver 
There are healthy cells of memory that live on in my mind
And it is here where I hold him as he struggles.

Ok...now that I'm all teared up, it's time to write the goofy poem...I told you you would be glad I put something happy at the end!

Small Steps

One small step can change your life
Especially if you don't see it
And you trip
And you fall into another
And knock them into someone else
Like dominoes
And everyone giggles
While you blush
Feeling anger well up
And perhaps you kick the step
And the giggles turn to chortles
And you continue up
The small steps, tripping
over each one.