The Creativity Well

Small Towns Have Spring Time Growth Spurts

April 05, 2023 — Poem a Day: a noun in location poem

Bart from Owltown

Born to unsuspecting parents late in the 19th century in Union County Georgia, Bartholomew found himself in a peculiar situation.

The Barn Owls settled the area — Hoot Owl Town. Geniuses they were. Heart-faced hunters keep vermin populations down low. Swift and silent wings carve obsidian-cloaked night — swoop and slash until claws clutched their unsuspecting prey.

Farmers Brown & Ochre & Liver were overjoyed each spring as a new stable of Barn Owls was built. Woe to the Ma Owls tho’ birthing maybe eleven babies at a time when eight was more than enough.

Population explosion! Hoot Owl Town grew and grew soon to be Hoot Owl Hollow. This continued ’til the mayor got the bright idea to merge the two: Owltown. Mighty original thinkers them ghostly predators.

Well, the problem came in the spring of 1867. Olivia Owl had herself ten beautiful baby owl eggs. They started to crack open in April that year around the 5th. She went out to get some food to chew and spit into her babies’ mouths when she discovered a surprise in her nest.

Where there had been ten now were eleven. Oscar Owl wanted to remove the usurper, but Olivia wanted no part in killing her babies.

Bartholomew was officially a resident of Owltown. There was only one small problem.

Bart was a little brown bat.

The Challenge

April 1, 2023, started the 16th annual April Poem-A-Day Challenge on Writer’s Digest and ran until May 1, 2023. Each day during April, Robert Lee Brewer posted a poetic form, explanation, and his attempt on the Writer’s Digest website.

My Process

Woke up to the annoying internal alarm clock left over from my teaching days, I roll hopped out of bed, wheeled to my so-called workstation, and I logged on to the Net. I went to the site, turned the page into a PDF, downloaded, saved, and logged out. Took a moment to open the prompt and read. Then re-read.

Each poem has a different gestation period.

After some growth and stretching, the labor pains came — giving birth to a brand-new creation: a first draft. A work freshly born. Not edited. No perfect word choice. Raw from the creativity well.

I invite and encourage you to engage with the words.

What strikes a chord in your soul? What might make a great spin-off poem topic?

Until next time, Bonnie L. Boucek