Day 28, NaPoWriMo

Golden Gate Bridge(iron worker atop the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco)

Golden, magic bridge:

your artisans so wondrous

filling up the sky

Golden Gate bridge two

A bridge is a powerful metaphor. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.

Lady Lincoln

Mary Lincoln

“Lady Lincoln”

I keep my fashion as Lady Godey;

my family, aristocratic, lean

and with my many suitors, life is gay

but Lincoln’s borrowed horse not what they dream.

My people pray he is a fading fad;

no life or love with Abraham they deem.

And all historians who cast me ‘mad’;

their hatefulness a jealous motive seem.

The one great truth through all our misery:

a melancholia treads through our past

and not with lies of Herndon’s history.

With love was Mr. Lincoln and I cast.

I cry from out my grave so all may hear:

we are a pair, devout; to each, hold dear!