Something To Hold

Written for:  Friday Writings #32:  The Right Song at the Right Time

"For those of you who want a prompt to work with, I suggest taking a line from a song that moves you on some level and using that to inspire your words (please do mention which song was the inspiration in your post)."

*Just give me one thing
That I can hold on to
To believe in this livin'
Is just a hard way to go
To believe in this livin'
Is just a hard way to go

When you feel
that you can't
go down 
this tough road
any longer,
you need 
something tangible
to hold, 
and believe in–
just one
simple thing
to count on.

*(taken from:  Angel From Montgomery~Bonnie Raitt)

Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Variations on Grieving

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Begin a poem with "endless".

Endless attempts
to move past grief.
No brief or timely
manner can be
assigned.  There are
types of grief one can
overcome, most involve
simply trying to get
through.  A deep blue
sorrow stays with you–
a punch in the gut,
a knife piercing 
your heart.  And, here
you are, making endless
attempt to move beyond
pain.  You wonder if it
is possible.  You wonder
if it is worth it.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Summer Begins

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday:  Solstice
(posted by Frank J. Tassone)

Write an original haibun that alludes to the Solstice,
whether Summer or Winter

According to calendar events, today is the first day of Summer.
The meaning of Summer Solstice eludes me, as I find it difficult
to picture the celestial equator.  Nonetheless, I love the sound
of it.  For me, it conjures up secret rites.

We have recently had several stunning days of weather.  Plants
are blooming, herbs are herbing.  Though today is cloudy,
no one promised us sun on the first day of Summer.

             commanding presence
             balances on a fence post
             red-coated cardinal
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

When Wind Blew Through Earth

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #557

Words:  blackbird, flame, meek, wind, earth, cross, creed,
        time, woman, search, seem, me

Time was, wind blew through
earth like a cross woman
inflamed by scorn.  Blackbirds
searched for new homes,
their creed being safety.
Nature's meek creatures
shuddered, scurried– 
seeking shelter.  Seemed
to me, even the skies
had turned cruel.  Was it
an augury of earth's demise?
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Distance of Blackbirds

Written for:  Sunday Muse #215

Unforgettable memories by SV-Blackart on DeviantArt
Once you meant something
to me.  Now I must let
you go, stop the burning
in my heart.  Start a fire
of my own with all those
possessions of yours
I have kept.  No more.
I am traveling a distance
through a formidable fog 
that attempts to swallow 
the moon.  Led by a flock
of blackbirds, I make
my way.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 16 Comments

Magaly’s Inspiration

Written for:  Friday Writings #31:  Genuine Ink

"For today’s prompt, if you wish to use it, I would like you to write poetry or prose inspired by the following lines: “be genuine / in life and ink / rebel against hypocrisy” (feel free to use the actual words, if you like):"

Be Genuine:  in truth
             in love
             in morals
             in friendships

In Ink:      you have power
             you can state your opinions
             you can laugh or cry, or touch someone else
             you can open your heart

Rebel:       against greed
             against prejudice
             against false news from false prophets
             against other's ideas of beauty
             against any "norm"
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 17 Comments

Losing Yourself

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  Fall Seven Times,
Stand Up Eight -- Guest Host:  Anna Montgomery

"Gnomic poetry is the long lived and loved practice of moralizing in verse. This places gnomic poetry squarely in the wisdom literature tradition. In its initial form, early Greek gnomic poetry was expressed with aphorisms or any saying that encapsulates, in a pithy manner, advice on how to (or how not to) live."

"The choice is yours, but the focal point of your poem must have a moral or assert a philosophical position on life."

Do you know
who you are?
Dependency on
spouse, lover,
or friend undermines
independence.  Without
noticing the subtle
changes, you suddenly
find their beliefs
are yours, their 
opinions are yours.
You become lost.
Do not allow all
those  puzzle pieces
that make up you,
to bend, change, or
disappear, so that
you become someone
else's finished product.
Think.  Look around
Do you know
who you are?
Define yourself.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | 18 Comments


Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Begin a poem with 'detached memory'.

Detach memories
that bring you
pain, that tear
at your guts
in vain.  Store
them in a remote
part of your brain
so that they are not 
at the forefront
filling up all your
space.  Detach.  Make
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

“steel sky”

Written for:  The Twiglets #283 - steel sky

standing under
a steel sky
if night will fall

The sky purpled
into twilight.
I steeled myself.
Would he show up?

plump raindrops fall
pinging pond of fish and frogs
ominous sky of steel

             An alien fell to earth from the sky.
              He was puzzled, and wondered why.
                 This was not his planet,
                    no one wore granite.
    Strange speech, crazed hair, and screaming at his one huge eye.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Her Spells

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #154
Casting a Poetic Spell  (posted by Sanaa)

"Today, I’d like you to ponder upon the word “Spell.”

"Misspelled, Gospellers, Bespelled, Spellcraft, Spellbinder, Counterspell, Fingerspelling, Dispeller, Spellcheck, Spell-out.

Go ahead, leave no possibility unexplored." 

Oh dear, she sighs,
I fear I am having
one of my spells–
(Code for depression)
Dreary rain-spells
unfailingly send her
dejectedly to bed,
under covers, door
closed, where she
will read a torrid
romance novel until
she spell-shifts
back to herself.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Dreams of Men

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #390
"Take a sad song, and make it better" - Beatles, 1973

"Take something that is a downer (song, poem, book title, movie, etc.), and put a hopeful twist on it."

(inspired by Of Mice And Men ~ John Steinbeck)

George vows to take care
of Lennie as the pair moves
from one migrant job to the next.
Twice as rough to earn a living
with the Depression on,
and Lennie's limited mental
capacity.  George focuses
on earning enough to buy
a farm, while Lennie dreams
of tending rabbits.  Though
Lennie possesses great strength,
he loves touching soft things.

On Curley's ranch, his wife
is a temptress. George
stresses the importance 
of keeping away from her
to Lennie.

Unfortunately, bad habits 
do not change, and Curley 
kicks his wife off the ranch.
By then enough money is
pooled together for a
small farm. George, Lennie,
and the ranch hands leave
to live their dreams.
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In The Library

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #214

Words: Thirst, Share, Stories, Breath, Apart, Feign, Run,
       Stars, chain, First, Roots, Roads

They sat in the library
feigning nonchalance–
these kids who thirsted
for stories that were
not their own.  They shared
common roots, and ran down
the same rough roads.  Author
entered the room to
an audible intake of breath.
First book up was about stars.
Apart from an occasional cough,
the children's chain of reaction
was silence.  Nothing was said
about current violence in
their neighborhood, or school.
When the readings ended, kids
had a new light of hope
in their eyes.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Guided by Moonlight

Written for:  Sunday Muse #214

In early June
when flowers
open their hearts
to me, I am humbled.
How insignificant
I become in light of
their fiery heat.  Sky 
is churning circles
of coal.  I am hoping
to make it home
before the storm
with the moon
as my guide.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 23 Comments


Written for:  Friday Writings #30 - Beloved Books

"Your mission for today, should you choose to accept it, is to be inspired by a favourite book or books – to describe it/them, and/or the effect on you; or to retell the story; or to invent a sequel, a prequel or an alternate ending; or to attempt something in that style; or to let it lead you in some other new direction of your own. Don't forget to tell us the source of your inspiration!"

(with a nod to Lewis Carroll)

She fell asleep
her cat by her side.
Bored with lessons,
and being proper
her mind went for a ride.

Down a rabbit hole,
Alice tumbled
eyes opened to wacky world.
All creatures spoke, 'cept
Dee and Dum mumbled.

Colors bid her 
to pay attention.
Snow white rabbit,
mean red queen.
Belief held in suspension,

as Alice came upon
a tea party in progress;
how odd, the invitees.
Hatter and Hare hosted,
and drunken dormouse was at rest.

A Cheshire cat was there
then not. He perched on branch
wearing wide grin.  He pointed
at a haughty caterpillar 
who smoked and looked askance.

Alice grew too tall, shrunk too short,
and even played croquet.
Learned to dance a mad quadrille.
She quickly aced Wonderland's rules.
Her decision was to stay.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 15 Comments

In The Midst

Written for: Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Use the words, raising, minds, and burning in a poem.

In the midst
of a country burning,
the people are still raising
their flag, feeling pride,
and wonder at the thoughts
going through their enemy's
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

“bleached silence”

Written for:  The Twiglets #282 - bleached silence

From my seat
on bleached white driftwood,
a calm silences my mind.

In the stark silence,
I watched blood drain from 
her face, like bleached linen.

bleached to bone white
middle of the desert
remains of animals

            A bleached platinum blonde movie queen
              of the 1930's reigned supreme.
                  The envy of women
                not knowing her within
        were shocked at headlines, and photo–obscene.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Oligarchs of War

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2, Prompt #389 - Lyrics are Poetic

"Think of a lyric you enjoy, or listen to some music and cull a line to use in your poem or as your inspiration. Credit the source. Music doth have charms. Let it speak to you!

All the Masters of War
so power-obsessed
send young men to conquer,
to kill, and suppress.

Backed by dirty money,
they relax on their yachts.
When the boy soldiers die,
fresh ones take their spots.

The land is destroyed,
there is blood steeped in earth.
No forgiveness, no soul–
you have traded self-worth.

(inspired by Bob Dylan's Masters of War)
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Looking For a Chance

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #555

Words:  yet, distraught, miss, felon, lid, pinprick, string,
        with, trip, chilling, banish, slithery

A formerly chilling,
heavy-lidded felon
from Mississippi was
distraught.  He'd served
his time, yet it seemed
he was being banished
from society with no
visible means.  He could
not afford to trip up,
still on parole.  Sought
work, but was treated
like a contagious,
slithery beast.  At least
prospective bosses did not
string him along.  He felt
their eyes judging his
pinprick tattoos.  What
was he to do?  How to prove
his worth if no one took
a chance.

Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Discarded Bloom

Written for:  Sunday Muse #213

Her beauty was too fragile
for this world.
At first, tightly curled
inward, then
a delicate opening
of her heart.
She would give her all,
to anyone
who cared.  Bared
her soul, but was tossed away
like a stray piece of trash.
World's loss.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments

Morning Changes

Written for:  Friday Writings #29:  Little Rituals
(posted by Rommy)

"Write poetry or prose about small daily rituals or
daily routines that make up our lives."

How jarring–changes
in morning rituals.
Still have my couch
corner to sit on
while I sip coffee,
read some poetry,
and sometimes
write.  No clicking
of nails to go out,
no scooping of food
into dog bowls,
or administering
medications.  No
dog curled up
next to me.  Now,
I sometimes put in
my wireless ear buds
and choose an album
to listen to, amidst
the jarring quiet.  

Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments

Sounds of a Summer Evening

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - MTB with dissonance
(posted by Bjorn)

"Poets usually strive to make a poem easy and pleasant to read, and often those tools are based on vocal harmonies, through the meter, rhyme, assonance, or consonance.

Creating dissonance is harder than we may think as we naturally want to sound pleasant, but today we will try to do the opposite. If it helps try to describe something unpleasant, to write off your anger, sorrow or angst."

A few ways to do this.

- Break up assonance by using all different vowels you could.
- Break up the meter, and make your poem stumble on two left feet.
- Use harsh consonants, putting some firework in your verse.

In soft summer evening
Boom! Crack! Lightning
streaks violet and egg-yolk
yellow.  Sky screeches.
Rain slams windows.
I jump.  Now 
in dimmed evening
lights flicker, threaten.
Darkness deep and thick
blots out world.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 11 Comments


Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Use 'upside down' in a poem.

Inside rings of
pineapple, Mom placed 
maraschino cherries
on the bottom layer 
of her upside down 
cake.  Scent of gooey 
glaze–brown sugar
and melted butter–
made my mouth water.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

“quiet sun”

Written for:  The Twiglets #281 - quiet sun

After the storm subsided
a pale, shy sun peeked through.

At dawn 
when the world is hushed
sun sifts 
through the sky.

crystal waters dance
glistening like diamonds
under midday sun

            On a cruise to sunny Bermuda
             as he was proposing to her,
               a rainstorm came down
               with no warning sound,
         and not one day of sunshine ensued.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments


Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #153:
Out of the Meadow's Browse  (posted by Linda Lyberg)

"I was recently reading Owls and Other Fantasies, by Mary Oliver and came across a lovely poem that inspired me to use the word Browse for our prompt today."

Giraffes browse on luscious
leaves at the tops of
tall trees.  They munch
like humans do
on salads.  Imagine
if all trees were cut
down, or perished
in wild fires.  Giraffes 
would have no sustenance.  
Do not shrug off global
warming or human greed.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments

Roadblocks to Freedom

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #388
The Price of Freedom

"Whatever you perceive as freedom, make it the impetus for your poem. Freedom is not free. It carries quite a cost."

What would inhibit your freedom?

Violence (street and domestic)
Forbidden words
Stifled protests
Banned books

If you are truly free,
you are fortunate. 
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Cool Rain, Hot Tears

Written for: Sunday Muse #212

Cool rain washes
away hot tears.  She
wonders if this rain-
drop downpour will
purify her once more.
How many chances 
are given–one, two
ten?  What amount
of forgiveness is
there in this world
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

Chatter in the Courtroom

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Corvid poetry
(posted by Ingrid)

"To the corvidae family belong a variety of birds including ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, choughs, magpies and of course, the common crow. Though these birds may be a familiar sight all around the world, they are quite remarkable in their unique intelligence: European magpies have been shown to recognise themselves in mirror tests, and rooks and ravens have demonstrated their ability to make tools and solve problems. This intelligence has been noted by poets and writers as long ago as Aesop in the 6th century BC."

For this week’s Poetics, I would like you to choose a member of the corvid family, and (taking inspiration from the examples above if you wish) write a poem (or even a song) about it. Those of you who like an extra challenge may choose to populate your poem with a variety of corvidae. Here are the collective nouns for the main corvid types to get you started:

A treachery of ravens
A parliament of rooks
A clattering of jackdaws
A scold of jays
A chattering of choughs
A mischief of magpies
A murder of crows  

Parliament of rooks
was in session.  'How
do you plead, crows?'
'Not guilty', claimed
the murder.  'Why don't
you question that 
mischief of magpies?'
Magpies whined in
protest, and were
cleared from the court.
A clamor arose from
the clattering jackdaws, 
who were promptly
drowned out by
the scolding jays.
'This treacherous act
was performed by 
the ravens,' chattered
the choughs.  'Okay,
it was me,' said a crow.
'Shoplifting is an act
perfected by my grandfather
who always was a sucker
for shiny things.' 
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 13 Comments

A Child In Summer

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday:  Summer
(posted by Frank J. Tassone)

"Let’s join in the celebration of Summer! Write a haibun that alludes to this hottest of seasons."

When I think of Summer, I am apt to go back many years
to childhood.  School's out, ice cream truck's in.  In play areas–
scattered about the projects–a shower sprinkler
was installed.  Kids loved it.  On brutally hot days, we would run
in and out of the sprinkler, squealing with cold delight.

In a local pool, we swam until lips blued and chattered.  Dad
taught all the kids to swim.  Some days a large crowd from
our building would pack up, and drive out to Vally Stream
for a picnic.  Toast my marshmallows until they are black!

     log spread across lake
     bunch of scaredy cats on shore
     tip-toed walk to cross

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War Cycles

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Todays prompt: Use “never again” in a poem."

Horrific as each war is,
and people stating 'never
again', I take that phrase
with a grain of salt.
We seem doomed to learning
nothing from history.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | Comments Off on War Cycles

“dream bin”

Written for:  The Twiglets #280 - dream bin

I bin all over the world
searching for my dream.

The bin was not large
enough to hold
all my nightmares.

a simple dream–
to know once more the beauty
of my country

                  A woman possessed a dream bin
                 she would not let anyone see in.
                    One day it went missing
                     and though depressing
           she laughed. Only nightmares dwelt within.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Warning From The North

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #554

Words:  thunder, translucent, journey, sacred, power, north,
        hits, beneath, search, spellbinding, order, freeze

Thunder god from Order
of The North, shot
powerful, spellbinding
bolts of midnight
blue on a sacred
journey to warn
Thunder god from
Order of the South
that an atmospheric
change would hit
his domain freezing
people, animals,
and verdancy of nature.
Only the Translucent
Tribe dwelling beneath
the planet could search
for the source,
and prepare the others
for the end.
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Casting Light

Written for:  Sunday Muse #211

sisters of night sky
cast curlicues of color
light up the world

Happy Birthday, Shay!
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Delicate Operation

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #387
Fences Make Great Neighbors

"Finishing a fence project, and that adage came to mind. Write a fence poem or a neighbor verse."

A three-man operation.
First one is a thief–
empty house situation
or a snatch on the street.

Second man, called a fence,
handles the stolen goods
and hopes there's not a wrench
in his chosen neighborhood.

Pawnbroker is third man,
determines worth of items.
He holds them in his hands.
Shines, displays–someone will buy them.
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Beach Reverie

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  The Constanza
(posted by Bjorn)

"Today we are going to try our hand at a poetic form created by Connie Marcum Wong in 2007.

This is an example of two poems in one with one short poem being expanded in a longer poem. It consists of at least 5 three-line stanzas written in iambic tetrameter (8 syllables and four feet). The first lines of each of the 5 stanzas form an independent poem (hence with at least 5 lines),

In each 3-line-stanza the ending couplets should rhyme and expand on the topic on the first line.

The internal poem given by the first lines should be reinforced by being written in monorhyme (all lines should rhyme with each other)

The rhyme scheme is, therefore: a/b/b a/c/c, and so on.

The poem should end with the internal poem."

I walked on beach of pristine sand.
At ocean's edge I dipped my toes,
shock set in, I nearly froze.

Thoughts were of Dad holding my hand.
As I look at old photographs,
there's Dad in swim shorts with a laugh.

Shared love of sea, a gift so grand.
Each roll of waves excites me still,
a special place where I'm fulfilled.

Brine scent, salty lips, seagulls land.
Contrast of warm grains and cool sea;
collect shells handled fragilely.

A beach is my private dreamland.
When sun descends it leaves shadows
that ripple water in scarlet rows.

I walked on beach of pristine sand,
thoughts of Dad holding my hand.
Shared love of sea–a gift so grand.
Brine scent, salty lips, seagulls land.
A beach is my private dreamland.
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These Times

Written for:  Friday Writings #27:  Watching and Witnessing
(posted by Rosemary)

"Your prompt for this week (if you would like one) is to bear witness to these times we are living in, and how it feels to be living in them. How does it affect you, and/or how do you observe it affecting others?"

Aside from road rage,
violent crime, 
and pandemic, there are 
special people close
to me in my small
family that I have not
seen in three years.

I awake anxious, depressed,
heart racing.  Many people
I speak with are suffering
in the same manner.

Now, war in Ukraine–
saddest thing I have
ever seen.  I feel
and fear that we are
witnessing the end
of the world
as we knew it.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 17 Comments


Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Compound Me!  (posted by Lillian)

"Today, I want you to compound me! BUT, there’s several tricks/requirements to this prompt.

 . I want you to choose at least one compound word from the list below to
     use in your poem. You may choose to use more.

. FOR EACH COMPOUND WORD YOU DO USE, I want you to take apart the compound
  word within your poem. You can do that by a) putting the first half of
  the compound word at the end of a line and the second half of the
  compound word immediately at the beginning of the next line OR b) by
  separating the two halves of the compound word with punctuation. You
  MUST separate the two root words that make up the compound word.
. You may  NOT put additional words between the two root words, and you
  may NOT add a letter to either of the root words.
. In other words, the root words must be used exactly as they appear in
  the compound word!"

Here’s the list you can choose from:


He acted the fool, making her cross.
Walking away was her best move.

Summer afternoon proved hot.
Dog refused to walk.

Like drops of honey,
dew delicately topped roses.

Face in the full moon?
Light playing tricks.

She stood under bright stars
fishing for a compliment.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Separation

The Good Times

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Use run wild in a poem."

They used to run wild
through the meadow
laughing, their lives
carefree, until one day
it all turned to black
ash.  Their city became
a burning inferno. 
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

“sunken sky”

Written for:  The Twiglets #279 - sunken sky

Steely gray clouds
appear to shrink
the sky.

How pleasant 
it would be
to have 
a sunken living room
ceilinged by
a sky light.

cheeks sunken
a jaundiced pallor on skin
imprisoned indoors

              A western man from Sunken Sky
          traveled east, cowboy hat riding high.
                with business to tend to
                stopped for a quick brew.
    Fell for cowboy-crazed Sue, and could not say goodbye.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments


Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille Night!
"Sleepy Times"  (posted by sarahsouthwest)

"Well, tonight we’re quadrilling, and, yes – sleep is the word. You can use any variant you like – sleep, asleep, sleeping, sleepy… – just so long as your poem is 44 words long and contains that elusive sleep word."

Name’s Sleepy,
one of seven.  I can fall
into a deep sleep
anywhere, unless
Sneezy is on a roll.  Doc
wants to prescribe meds;
I said, no drugs.  Look
what happened to Happy
and Dopey.  Can’t rope
me in.  At least I’m not
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments


Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #386 - New Horizons

"We’re looking off into the near distance, searching our horizon for the next big thing. Every adventure is out there for our taking as long as we’re making a concerted effort to reach for it. Of course, writing a horizon poem will work for you here as well. Or take a new look at an old thing and make it new (relatively) again! We stand on the cusp of that brave new world. Where will it take you?"

in spring and summer
earth blooms in flowered hues
horizons brighten
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Against His Wishes

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #553

Words:  against, star, flower, shot, beneath, beat, open,
        prowl, growl, shelf, slip, crow

Beneath an open shelf,
a growl emerged.  Hope
that raccoon and his
buddies are not on 
the prowl, slipping 
into the house
against my wishes,
he thought.  On this
warm night of stars,
he could smell a flowery
scent of jasmine, as
he stepped outside
looking for signs
of entry.  Zoom!
A raccoon shot out
of an egress terrifying
a nearby crow, who beat
his wings and took off
with a clamorous caw.
Maybe, I should move
to the woods, and deed
the house over to them.
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Birds On Watch

Written for:  Sunday Muse #210

Mist by Ton Heijnen, via 500px
We line up
at the dock
in darkness
of night when
fog horns sound.
Helper birds for
lighthouse, we guide
ships in, unbothered
by their glaring
lights.  Do they
notice us?  Same
crew each night, but
they probably think
we all look alike.
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A Fine Repast

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Bon Appétit Food Poetry 
(Guest Host:  Misky)

"Let’s play with our food. Our favourite food. Or treat. Breakfast? Lunch? If this was your last meal – what would you want on your plate. Is there a plate? Maybe it’s finger food. So instead of counting syllables on your fingers, let’s lick our fingers, and write some food poetry. Bon Appétit!"

To begin I will likely order
a glass of splendid chianti,
oh no, I have no need to taste.
Follow with an antipasto tray–
marinated artichokes for me.

Politely, I listen to Specials.
If I hear Chilean Sea Bass
or soft shell crabs in butter–pan fried,
I will carefully weigh my options.
Either choice would be hard to pass.

Nothing lives up to Eggplant Parm.
Instead of pasta, bring me salad.
Decide against that third piece of bread.
Inevitably, it leaves no room,
for main course; I'd insult my palate.

Only if dinner is leisurely
will I even consider dessert.
An espresso goes without saying,
of perhaps Limoncello to sip.
Should they have Tartuffo, I've hit pay dirt!
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“layers of clouds”

Written for:  The Twiglets #278 - layers of clouds

thickening clouds 
fill the sky
in layers of warning

How would I feel
to wrap myself in
a pillow-cloud coat.

blue sky drifters
catch her eye in late afternoon
layers of clouds

          There was a young man from St. Cloud
          who was known for talking too loud.
                 He met a new girl
          thought he'd give her a whirl
    She whispered, 'Mister, you're blowing my eardrums out.'
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A Countdown To Easing Grief

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #385
The Final Countdown

"Write of the anticipated something in your life in a countdown to that momentous occasion. That’s the theme, but you can word it however you wish to convey your thoughts. I’m counting on you all to do me proud (you’ve never let me down!) I don’t anticipate you’ll start now."

flood of tears
which will never end.
You feel your life has been
hollowed out, as a piece of wood, whittled down in size.
You count the days that have passed since your loss.  How many
will it take to ease that sharp pain?
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The Experiment

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #552

Words:  physics, bar, dirt, fools, sometimes, clod, never, 
        alchemy, drunk, snack, gold, silver

His experiments with physics
for creating a super-antibiotic
which would raise the bar
in treatments, left the alchemist
little spare time.  He never
closed his lab before 10:00 pm.
So intent was he, that sometimes
he'd forget to eat, leaving
himself at the mercy of snack
vending machines.  Pristine
place, the lab was always kept
free from even miniscule clods
of dirt.  One night, drunk
on the surety that his formula
was perfected, he mixed
various beakers of liquid
with melted strands of silver
and gold.  Unable to wait
a day longer, he sipped
a tiny amount.  Alas, 
it wasn't to be.  The alchemist
had mistakenly used 
fool's gold.
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This Poem Is A Nest

Written for:  Sunday Muse #209

"Go with the image that moves your muse."

Artistic image by Sarah Treanor
This poem is a nest.
Not for a robin, sparrow,
or chickadee.  This nest
is for me.  Here is
safety, warmth, silence.

This poem is a nest
where no one can see
me.  My tears dry
in swirls of branches.

This poem is a nest,
crafted for one.  Here
is where I go when
my mind cannot shut
itself off, and my eyes
cannot unsee.
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Holder of Dreams

Written for:  Friday Writings #25 - Let's Rewrite
(posted by Magaly)

"I would like you to take a poem or story you wrote many years ago (preferably, one that wasn’t exactly awesome), and rewrite it. Please post both the original and the edited versions."


Alone, glowing
on top shelf,
a crystal blue
dream holder.
Stars of ice
drift, some 
stopping on
fir tree branches
like silver garland
topping.  Fine layer
of white sand
grounds bottom
where green sea
peaks through.  All
dreams are looked
upon fondly by
a smiling moon.


In My Dream Jar
Posted on October 28, 2015 by purplepeninportland
Written for: Margo Roby’s Poem Tryouts, “If You Could Imagine Day”

Say we live in a time where you can order your own pillar of setting. What would you choose to have depicted in your pillar?

Or, if you want to feel cosier about it, how about a jar you can place on a shelf.

Center stage–sand and ocean
in constant motion. Moon’s face
winking among abstract
configuration of shimmering
stars, above. On lower
level, sunflowers bowing
in bloom. To round out
my dream jar, a border
of lilac feathers floating.

Posted in Purple's Home | 20 Comments


Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:  Crowning Crapsey
(posted by Laura Bloomsbury)

Today, the 5th surely invokes the five-line stanza style of poetry or cinquain.  The American cinquain developed  by Adelaide Crapsey of 22 syllables in 5 rhymeless lines as in 


“How frail
Above the bulk
Of crashing water hangs,
Autumnal, evanescent, wan,
The moon.”

Crapsey’s cinquain has since been elaborated on by others in several ways and given today’s double whammy of the 5th of the fifth month, our challenge today will be:

Either the cinq-cinquain,

. a series of 5 [entire] Crapsey Cinquains, 25 lines total
. syllabic count: 2-4-6-8-2 in each stanza
. written with or without breaks between stanzas


The cinquain chain/crown cinquain.

. a series of 5 [entire] Crapsey Cinquains, 25 lines total
. syllabic count: 2-4-6-8-2 in each stanza
. written with a break between each stanza
. last line of the previous cinquain repeated as first line of the next
Note: The final line of the last cinquain does not have to equal the first line of the first cinquain, but it is an option.

Oh, wow!
you cut your hair.
I never thought you would,
especially not that severe.
Too short.

Do you
like the result?
Gives you an appearance
of a librarian, you know–

on chain.
Not a bad thing.
They can be attractive.
I do not wish to insult you.

look for you, but I'm sure
we will get used to it in time,
right, hon?

At least
if you decide
this haircut doesn't suit
your face or lifestyle, you can just
grow it. 
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“turning page”

Written for:  The Twiglets #284 - turning page

Last page left to turn
saddens me–
end of book

Autumn leaves turning
are the pages of a tree.

child's delight
rapidly turning pages
to her favorite part

             Remember when everyone had pagers,
           then Blackberrys came and upstaged them.
               When cell phones came out
                they had so much clout.
         Now they're stuck to the ears of teenagers.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments