Respect

When thinking about “respect,” I was so focused on an attitude of deference, admiration, or esteem; regard, that I was surprised to read its definition as:

A particular, detail, or point (usually preceded by in): to differ in some respect. To me, this definition connects respect to quality.

Relation or reference: inquiries with respect to a route. Of course I use the phrase “with respect to,” but I guess I forgot about it with my thoughts going to “respect your elders” and “respect the power of nature” relating respect more to awe and deference.

I’ve been wanting to play with my spirals on the lake, but living in a place that is rainy and overcast, I’ve had to be patient. As such, I respect any moment of sunlight. Thus, these images
captured when the sun broke through this morning, represent respect in that respect.

The Prompts

NaPoWriMo

Today’s prompt is a combination of things: “Write a poem in which you first recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with, then a job you used to have but no longer do, and then a piece of art that you saw once and that has stuck with you over time. Finally, close the poem with an unanswerable question.”

Poem A Day

Today’s prompt is to write a sound poem.

dVerse Poets Pub

Today Björn challenges us to write our poem as a riddle. I didn’t think I would try it, but my poem turned out to fit the prompt, in some respects 😊

The Poem

Following a Sound through a Dark Wood

A kind word or harsh
A belly of jelly laughter
quick to grab the wooden
paddle hanging at
the front of the class
the cry, the smack
the very first year
of lessons in respect
A command or request
clicks and clacks
of keyboards
all the keyboards
lined up with barely
elbow room to spare
as we stare not hearing
the scratching pencils
the grinding teeth
the turning stomachs
but assign them numbers
we don’t hear the moans
of despair, or cheers
of passing success
The clap of a slap
The coo of canoodle
faceless strangers
click and clack all day
we spray judgement
from a distance
like the splat and splash
drip of Pollock’s
paint, we are but numbers
but not number one,
not even number five,
not even whole numbers
like number 17A
those subtle stripes
like fingers plucking
at destiny’s strings
What does respect sound like?