The day 26 prompt at Poetic Asides was “take a word or two invented by William Shakespeare, make it the title of your poem, and write your poem.” For reference, Robert Lee Brewer offered this link that displays words supposedly coined by Shakespeare. “Lackluster” spoke to me the most:
She touched a shimmering bowl
of reflective orange, a stylized cottage scene
painted in the bottom. She considered the word
“luster” and realized how lackluster
she had always been. Even as a baby,
had she glowed from within? Her mother
had probably thought so, but her mother
had been let down by the plain girl
with the dour demeanor. So her life
had been lackluster as well; that is,
it had never shone
or even twinkled, but she’d been content.
Yes, happiness generated luster. In comparison
contentment seemed dull. Now
she wondered if she didn’t need a touch
of luster in her days. She bought the bowl,
although she didn’t anticipate drastic changes.
But when your life lacks luster, when you’ve never
seen your eyes luminescent in the mirror,
it seems a simple step toward increased radiance,
that bowl on the piano in the spring sunshine.