Thursday, April 30, 2009
I will never say good-bye
only au revoir
or “So Long”
Good-bye is so final
I don’t like it!
For we are friends
and friends, true friends
We will meet again
and it will be a joyous
For we are friends, true friends
and we can never be separated
Good-bye does not resonate
with what we have.
Our friendship is more
more than friends
something much, much more
So I will never say good-bye\
only au revoir
or “So Long”
or maybe “See you soon.”
Good night Sweet Prince –
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I am supposed to write a poem
and fill in the blank..
But you know I can’t think of a thing
that goes with never.
I could say Never again but there
is always a chance that it will repeat itself.
I could say Never go there but
as soon as I do that is just where I want to go.
My friends tell me Never trust that person
but I always want to see the good and trust
so I get hurt.
That is not fun but I don’t seem to learn.
Some folks say Never say Never
but there are things I will Never do –
Climb a mountain, dance the tango
write a book ( I suppose I could do that)
or win the lottery – (I hear you have to buy a ticket)
So while I have thought about several things I will Never
I guess the main thing is to write a poem.
I think I just did it.
"Quoth the Raven, Nevermore."
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
But wait! Today is Tuesday, so you have one other option. You can write a poem about the sestina (your love, hate, frustration with, etc.).
Whether you decide to write a sestina or write about sestinas, remember to have fun. We're almost done!
B - magic
C - predict
D - house
E - computer
F - fathers
Last week I needed a rescue
It was going to take a lot of magic
and it would be hard to predict
if I could get off the roof of the house
I had my pocket computer
but did not have the numbers of my fathers.
Mother was married twice so I have two fathers
surely they would save me with a rescue
and it wouldn’t take any magic
but I could not predict
if they could find the house
after I dropped my computer
No one could predict
if I could even contact the fathers
and it was an enormous house
from which I needed a rescue
perhaps I could use some magic
to recall my fallen computer
I looked down to spot my computer
I was indeed in a predict(iment)
And I needed something besides magic
to get in touch with my mundane fathers
so at least one of them would come to my rescue
and get me off the roof of this damn house
This enormous big crummy house
where I had climbed to the top with my computer
and now we both needed a rescue
How will it end do you want to predict
will they come do you think, the fathers
or will it take some major magic
I began to conjure some minor magic
I inched slowly down to the side of the house
I looked below and saw them – the fathers
one of them held the computer
But no one could predict
If I would be saved and no longer need a rescue
For the-rescue didn’t need any magic
And you could not predict that a fall from the house
would cause the computer to signal the fathers
Not to crazy about this prompt but I finally did it. Whatever!
I got it written but will not try a sestina again - never!
Monday, April 27, 2009
I cannot tell you for what I long
it’s a secret
Having something to desire
is what keeps me going
but if I told you for what I yearn
you might think me silly
you might laugh
So I will keep it close
in my heart
and maybe someday
it will be mine.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
I guess I misunderstood
I thought you wanted to be friends
But your actions have proven otherwise
So, I guess I was wrong.
Friendship works both ways
It is a give and take
but take is all you do
I guess I am through giving
Saturday, April 25, 2009
For today's prompt I want you to pick an event and make that event the title of your poem.
The little one made it an event
I was coming for a visit.
She spotted me
all of a sudden
running from the flower bed/garden
yelling my name
I was greeted and it was an event!
An event I look forward to repeating
over and over
and the Hi-fives when she got to me
weren’t too bad either!
All too soon the event has passed and
she goes back to watering the flowers.
Not knowing that she is the most beautiful
flower in that garden.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Every year it is the same
Planning starts in the dead of winter
Lists are made
The reservation was made last year as we left
You can feel the excitement as we get closer to the day
We migrate to Minnesota in the summer
There is a lake there where our friends gather
Family is there also.
Mother lives for the one week, then two and finally three
weeks amid the pines and birches
on the shores of Leech Lake
You can see the far away look in her eyes
as she contemplates sleeping on the porch
raising up to look out at the lake
listening to the loons.
I collect a lot of books to take. Paperbacks and
there is a visit to the library to take some more out.
The car is prepared. Sometimes we take a friend along with us
but it is always my mom and my sister and me.
(Once we waited until sunrise so my sister’s girlfriend could see the
scenery – she spent the entire trip reading comic books)
We have the route memorized but I still get a Triptic
I need to get some benefit from my AAA membership.
We drive past farms (with white cows that my mother and sister think are sheep)
and a myriad of lakes (but they are not “our lake” )
Through the twin cities – that is the time Mother always starts to mess with the paper
and read it. Thus making me even more nervous as I navigate the always heavy traffic
The closer we get the more excited. Mother starts to sing “We’re on vacation, in the summer time!” She is happiest on the way up to the lake
and at the lake
Then, all to soon it is over and we have to retrace our trip.
This time the scenery is viewed through tears.
Except for me. I am usually ready to get back home.
Gradually we think about the air conditioning we have done without
the comfort of our own beds
and the friends we have left behind.
We “post-mortem” the vacation all the way home
and for weeks afterwards. And yes – the reservations were made
before we left
so we would be able to do it all over again.
It seems like it is always the same
but it isn’t. It is warm and comfortable and cozy
just like an old slipper
We like it that way.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
It’s going to be on my mind for a very long time
The fact that what I said hurt you
It was not to make you feel bad
I would not cause you pain
I just didn’t think
So now when you cross my thoughts
A feeling I don’t enjoy
permeates my being
It’s going to be on my mind for a very long time.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
“What do you do?”
Someone always asks me that.
I tell them “Nothing, I am retired.”
(Actually I am just tired)
Then they want to know what I did.
Well I did lots of things; I traveled, I went on vacation
But I understand that what they want is to know how I made my living.
“Well,” I said, “I was a teacher.,
an elementary teacher.”
Immediately I am hear;
“Oh, wow, you are brave.”
What they don’t know is that I should be thanking them
for sharing their kids with me.
You see I don’t have any of my own.
But over the years I have had hundreds of them
I was a tough teacher, because I wanted my “kids” prepared to do their best
“The Middle School is a snap once you’ve had Simser.” said one boy.
That was a high compliment
(Though he might not have meant it that way.)
That told me I was doing my job, my work.
But it really wasn’t work - It was a joy.
I will always be grateful that I was allowed to be a teacher.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
1. Write a haiku. The haiku is not just a form but a genre of poetry. (Click here to read more about the haiku.) People sometimes go into writing a haiku and end up with a senryu or a faux-ku, but it's all good (and all poetry).
2. Write about the haiku. I know there are some poets (in this very group even) who are anti-form. So, I'm giving them the option to write their anti-haiku manifestos. Of course, if you pay attention to this 2nd prompt, it doesn't need to be anti-haiku; your poem could be questioning or even praising the haiku. Or something.
Warm sun on my face
Gentle rain falling slowly today
Daffodils are blooming
Monday, April 20, 2009
If you plant a seed it grows
But is it a rebirth or something new
Renewal is constant – but it’s not rebirth
Even so it proves its worth
A change but not the same thing new
It is different – that’s true
But a rebirth must change me
to sluff off the old and set me free
So now I sit and contemplate
Rebirth – Renewal, which is my fate
I want to be better, I want to do good
To try for the best is what I should
But if I can’t accomplish that
Karma will return me as a cat.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I seem to need to be punished
or cast to the outer darkness
No Jesus to “save” me from you
my angry “God”
I tried to be better but something
has you upset with me
I guess I deserve it.
I am such a worthless being
that you must yell and scream and swear at me
I am devastated
but there seems to be no way to make amends
I will never be able to love you again
I guess if you were really God
there would be no need to try
Anger begets anger
Whatever I did you have done worse
So now I am angry with you!
Who will save us from each other?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The baton was raised
First a high note
broke through the silence
joined by others
not a cacophony but
a beautiful rendition
of the composer’s
one, two, three, four
arms waving around
instruments relate and interact
one with another
they dance, they play
our spirits soar
from overture to coda
we are enthralled
they sing to us
in the language of music
and we listen with the language of soul
Friday, April 17, 2009
No time today so i had to combine Wordzzle and A Poem A day - Phrog will return next week.
For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem with the following title: "All I want is (blank)," where you fill in the blank with a word or phrase of your choosing. Some example titles, then, could be: "All I want is to eat fried chicken"; "All I want is world peace"; "All I want is for everyone to tell me I'm beautiful"; or "All I want is a handful of quarters."
All I Want is a Multi-purpose Poem
Two days after income tax day and I need some chicken noodle soup
chicken noodle soup
either that or a hug from everyone in the group
For seventeen days I’ve been writing poetry
sitting around underneath the flowering plum tree
flowering plum tree
I think I have bats in the belfry for taking this on
The Salamander Sisters to the art festival have gone
They entered in a contest to jump rope in a group
while singing the song loopity loop
They’re sipping some organic tea
and singing to a wench who looks like me
She and her lover have joined a book club
they each brought a book and some Dutch Treat grub
She wore diamond earrings
and tigers on pins for bling blings
The cow jumped over the moon was the name of the book
They’ve read the prefix – it is about a paragon of virtue who was a crook.Now they are finished with dinner and the book
This week's duties I did not shirk.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
red the color of passion
that barn is red
a red, red rose
touching my heart
chocolate covered cherry
red the color of love
if it is red it has to be good
better red than dead
little red hen
little red riding hood
the red bicycle
red the color of life
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The Street Not Taken
Two streets, which I could travel down
I can’t choose which way to go
On my face there is a frown
I imagine myself a clown
Maybe I’ll just go to a movie show.
What is playing on the movie screan
Is it in the paper the movies to see
Gee, to most of them I’ve already been
I have even see The Color Green
Oh, I can’t go I have only dollars three.
So now I’m back and a street I’ have to choose
That one has stores places to shop galore
What the heck do I have to lose
Perhaps I could go and look for my muse
I just have to go there and open the right door
But the other street is tree lined and green
Peaceful, tranquil, a place of peace
A quiet spot where strife is not seen
A place for resting with plenty of space
I took that street with style and grace
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
First prompt: Write a love poem.
Second prompt: Write an anti-love poem.
We love you
But we hate you
That is the message
Homophobic ministers (?)
secretly meeting with “masseurs”(?)
We love you (yeah right!)
but we hate you
You have a choice (yeah right!)
So choose something else
Chose what we want
not what you are.
We call you damned
and our followers beat and kill you
but that is all right
because - we love you
Monday, April 13, 2009
I am a collector,
Not for me the stamps
or the baseball cards
No, I collect people.
I look around me and I find interesting ones
Ones with big smiles and
beautiful laugh lines
The ones with craggy faces
a road map of life between their ears
Ones who show that they are caring
loving, holding folk.
Others who are self-satisfied
out only for themselves
who put people down don’t
make it into my collection.
I toss them out
but the others,
those I keep and cherish
clean them off and love them
I hold on to them and take them
with me where ever I go.
That is the nice thing about collecting people
The collection never gets too large
you can take it with you where you go
and it is actually
In fact just thinking about my collection of people and friends
brightens up my world and my universe.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
So we decided to see Beauty
The day was dark and drear
Not much fun, I fear
We looked out side and saw the rain
“Oh,” he said, what a pain!”
I was hoping for bright skies and a sun that shines
For warm breezes I do pine.
But look at that so cold and damp
It is no fun my style it does cramp
But Father dear, said my little boy
We are together today – I think that is a joy.
You are right my friend I said to him
You fill me with wonder – up to the brim.
Instead of seeing clouds and dark
let us look for a lark
or a robin
a violet shy
a break in the clouds
a bit of blue sky
A bright little beetle
crawling home –
There see it - under the garden Gnome.
The light we find in each other’s eyes
Mrs. Murphey’s golden apple pies
You see there is a lot out there if we just look
About beauty we could write a book,
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Hanging in my closet
Is a suit.
I hate to wear it. I much prefer the sport coat
or just a shirt.
The suit is for weddings
I wear it to meetings where I have to look nice.
I really prefer to leave it hanging there
on its own wooden hangar
next to an old sweater.
We put our suits on to match others
I never liked conformity. I like to be different
but the suit is there when I have to fit in.
Even though I will probably never fit in.
So it hangs in the closet
uniform of conformity
but then I guess
jeans and a sweatshirt
fit that category also
Maybe I’ll just go naked.
Friday, April 10, 2009
For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about Friday. Do you like Fridays? Despise Fridays? Of course, you can also write about something that happened on a Friday--or write an ode to Fridays. Or, as you know, I'm all for seeing you attack this from an angle I haven't thought of yet.
Not a day to mourn
The day Jesus taught us
How to Love.
"Take care of my Mother"
He said to John
"Father Forgive Them"
"Today you will be with me in Paradise"
He came to show us God's Love
That God IS Love
He did that on a Friday
Because He Loved.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
End of a "family day"
She had cooked all morning for her kids
And their broods.
Family Dinner on Sunday Noon
Hell - it was the best.
She knew how to cook
Now the day is over
everyone has gone to their separate homes
all caught up on everything.
the purple hair -somewhat disheveled
Fringed gray shawl with red stripes
wrapped around her shoulders
ready for bed
Comes to the living room
settles in her wooden rocker
to watch "What's My Line."
family time in front of the tube
It never got any better than that!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
For today's prompt, I want you to pick an animal; make that animal the title of your poem; then, write a poem. You could be very general with your animal title ("Bees" or "Lion") or specific ("Flipper" or "Lassie"). You could even be very silly with something like "Tony, the Tiger," I guess (that tiger on the cereal box).
Ned stood in the door of his Semi-trailer
You would not think that he would be timid
But he had lived a horrible life
Nature’s most majestic animal
He should be living large
Proud with a gentle bearing
But not Ned
Ned is frightened
He sways from side to side
peering out timidly.
He has been a long time in a bad place
That would frighten even the bravest animal
Ned doesn’t like to eat.
He is skin and bones
Slowly, slowly he moves forward
Swaying from side to side.
gaining a little confidence with each step.
Soon he is inside his new “place”
People help and love him
They want him to recover from what others have done to him.
I found him on the Internets
I pray for him
I want him to live a long life
gaining each day
Blessing the earth with his presence
Today, I want you to write an outsider poem. You can be the outsider; someone else can be the outsider; or it can even be an animal or inanimate object that's the outsider. As usual, get creative with the prompt and don't be afraid to stretch the limits.
"Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
… "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Explorers looking for a new place to be
A home for you and for me.
A promise of a place to belong –
Somewhere to sing a brand new song.
Pilgrims looking for a land to worship free
To be with their God on bended knee
Outsiders all - found this place on the globe
As this new land they did search and probe
They explored and conquered the land
Pioneers in brave tiny bands
It was here that they pledged their lives
Humble men and their hardy wives
Others now look at these golden places
And come with hope upon their faces
No longer outsiders looking in
The Irish, the French, German and Finn
The Asian, African, Russian Turk
All have found a new place to work.
Americans all standing side by side
A part of this country. No longer outside.
For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about either a specific routine or routines in general. Maybe something related to taking out the trash each week or washing the dishes every night--or something more bizarre (yet still a routine).
Every day it's the same
I think the dogs are to blame
They start to whine
At the door they pine
That is their claim to fame
My oatmeal they must share
To be selfish I would not dare
They stare and whine
At my feet they pine
Then they lick the plates bare.
They lay around all day on the floor
And only get up to go out the door
Their needs are met just fine
They have no need to whine,
I doubt they could ask for more.
My life by them it is controlled - I can't sleep late
Up at 7:15 - it is my fate
For some freedom and rest some time that is mine
I would enjoy before I am in a box of pine
But I must their needs serve - just great.
Each night it is in and out
The treats they want - no doubt
I do what they ask and walk the line
And really I like it just fine
Serving the dogs is what it is all about.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
For today's prompt, I want you to write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc. Have fun with it.
I don’t know where it came from
I saw something and then wrote a poem.
It just bubbled out of the miasma that is my head
just like lava from a volcano
I don’t know why but it eventually solidified
and a poem was born.
Today's prompt: Take the phrase "The problem with (blank)" and replace the "(blank)" with a word or phrase. Make this the title of your poem and then write a poem to fit with or juxtapose against that title. For instance, you could have poems with the titles of "The problem with government," "The problem with advanced mathematics," or "The problem with bipolar penguins." You know the drill: have fun, be creative. (You're all already doing such an amazing job that Tammy and I are trying to figure out logistical ways of getting the poems down to 5-a-day for the guest judges. Keep it up!)y.
The problem with poetry is that nobody reads it
I do but then I am weird.
If I write a poem a few of my friends read it but most people tell me
"I don’t like poetry."
Well they should --
Poetry is love,
stories of life
Poetry tells it like it is
Opens up the universe
inspires the soul
calms the nerves
causes laughter and tears
Poetry does all of that
and it makes me whole.
Bright clean cover up
It fell during the night.
Covering the dirt
hiding the mud
But don't worry
In a few days it will melt
Then we will have mud again
Prompt #2: I want you to write a dirty poem. Take all that stuff I wrote in the first prompt and twist it upside down. The opposite of clean is dirty; so, do what ya gotta do to produce a dirty poem. (Gosh, I hope this challenge doesn't get too messy as a result.)
Kids eat it
pigs roll in it
(or so the story goes)
The carpet shows it
Well, I abhor it.
Can't we have the nice, clean snow back?
Monday, April 6, 2009
For today's poem, I want you to write a poem about something missing. It can be about an actual physical object or something you just can't put your finger on (like "love" or "the spirit of Christmas" or something).
Where are they?
I've looked high
I've even looked low.
They must be around here someplace
Probably right in front of my face!
They have to be here!
On the shelf
Under the rug
Where can they be?
Are they hiding from me?
Perhaps I need help
I'll call my physic
She'll know where to look
I know I will find them - I need them, I do.
This is making me sad and blue.
I am growly and mean
Not in the drawer -
Nowhere to be seen
There is just one more place to search
Since they are not under the canary's perch
Ah - there they are
Now I'm ready to go!
For more on A Poem A Day go to Poetic Asides.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about a landmark. It can be a famous landmark (like Mount Rushmore or the Sphinx) or a little more subdued (like the town water tower or an interesting sign).
Trip to Egypt
Rode a camel and went inside
Dark and dim.
It should be damp but this is Egypt
(Nothing is damp here except the Nile)
Narrow corridor angling up
They call it the Grand Gallery but there are no pictures on the walls.
Now - inside the King's Chamber
An empty sarcophagus.
It seems there should be a sign:
Napoleon Slept Here!