Just In Time

Written for:  Poets and Storytellers United
Weekly Scribblings #80 - Sudden Moments  (posted by Rosemary)

"I would love to read what you have to say about sudden events which people somehow sensed coming – and also those which they didn’t. Whether traumatic or joyous, your own or someone else’s, real or fictional – that’s up to you."


We were due to wed 
in June.  my brother-in-law
to-be decided to
throw a bachelor
party bash for his
only brother, who
is quite the opposite
of him.  My husband
is not gregarious,
does not sing
in public, and dislikes
parties, and attention.
As this event was still
in the planning stages
with all the bells
and whistles, a
coworker and good friend
of my husband got wind 
of it.  Fortunately, he 
did the right thing,
and told us.  The
big party was quashed
before the first
drink, and stripper
could show up.


https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
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A Dream Instead

Written for Go Do Go Cafe
Donna Matthews Challenge:  Rondel form

"The Rondel consists of 13 lines in 3 stanzas
Rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains)
Usually 8 syllables per line"


Last night, asleep, a vivid dream
rolled in, spared me routine nightmare.
Lolling 'neath lamplight–you, my dear,
serene, beguiling, eyes blue-green.

Your amber aura beckoned me
like a twinkling prism.  You were near.
Last night, asleep, a vivid dream
rolled in, spared me routine nightmare.

A lunette moon with smile serene
hovered over your sable hair.
We had not aged, we had no cares
together in the midnight air.
Last night, asleep, a vivid dream.

https://godoggocafe.com/2021/07/28/i-know-this-river-by-donna-matthews/
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Bridging

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  The Proverbial
(posted by Merrill)

"For this prompt, choose a proverb or a pair of proverbs. Use them as you wish—as an epigraph or within the poem. Be serious or funny. You can use one of the proverbs above or choose one of your own."

Yes, we’re going to be working with proverbs today.
This got me to thinking about proverbs and how poets incorporate them into their poems. I also noticed how often there seem to be proverbs with equally well-known opposite messages. I’ve listed a few below:

Many hands make light work.
Too many cooks spoil the broth

Birds of a feather flock together.
Opposites attract.

You are never too old to learn.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

A rolling stone gathers no moss.
Stop and smell the roses.

He who hesitates is lost.
Strike while the iron is hot.
Look before you leap.


They say that birds
of a feather, flock
together.  I see 
a problem in that
proverb.  If you stick
only to people like
yourself, how will you learn
other cultures, customs,
and a way to bridge
the gap that separates
one person from another.
We are all part of
humanity.

https://dversepoets.com/

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Steeped in Greed

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe, Donna Matthews challenge:
A Rondeau

"The rondeau has a refrain and rhymes–two elements of many French poems. The traditional rondeau is a poem consisting of 3 stanzas, 13 original lines, and 2 refrains (of the first line of the poem) with 8 to 10 syllables per line and an A/B rhyme scheme."

The skeleton of the traditional rondeau looks like this:

A(R) – A – B – B – A

A – A – B – A(R)

A – A – B – B – A – A(R)


The world lives steeped in greed.
All activities run on speed,
honking horns, road rage drivers
carry guns if need arises.
Better race when that light turns green.

They want to see you bleed
for interfering with their need.
They'll cut you off, those connivers.
The world lives steeped in greed.

You wonder why their egos feed
on the need to be in the lead.
You usually find they have priors
and skid marks on their tires.
Road–ragers are a violent breed;
the world lives steeped in greed.

https://godoggocafe.com/2021/07/21/who-ill-create-today-by-donna-matthews/

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“a wooden puppet”

Written for:  The Twiglets #237 - "a wooden puppet"


On the dance floor
he resembled a wooden puppet.


Children's mouths gaped open,
as the wooden puppet's nose
began to grow.


little boy sketching
his pencil draws sharp angles
a wooden puppet


        There once was a boy carved of wood.
          His craftsman told him he should
                never tell lies.
             If you do, he sighed,
    your nose will protrude; you'd have to wear a hood.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Stream Dreaming

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille Monday #132
Your poem theme:  Stream  posted by (whimsygizmo)

First, a quote:
In your dream-scheme
of things a stream may
appear.  Listen
for water’s sound
as it flows over stones.  
A streamlet
has a softer tone,
as it is still growing.
Knowing the magical
music of water,
why would you
choose streaming
movies on television?

https://dversepoets.com/

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Who Wins The Game Of Give And Take?

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2, Prompt #344
Neither a Borrower Nor Lender Be

"We are borrowing and lending. In any machination of these terms, write your poem. We’re looking at a borrow poem, or a lend poem."


If I could borrow
your charisma 
for a day, I would
gauge my success
by the faces I had
beguiled.

In return, I would
agree to lend you
a day's worth of
brains, just so
you could know
what they are.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/

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The Magician

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #511

Words:  legendary, sky, ring, rekindle, spontaneous, heats,
sparks, rising, future, magic, dress, far


The legendary magician
was the darling of 
audiences, far from
where his star began
to rise.  Wearing
several rings that
glowed ruby red,
and emerald green,
coupled with his dress
of wizardry, he felt 
the sky was his limit.  
Spontaneous discussions 
erupted among his fellow/gal
magicians as to how
his most dangerous
stunts were accomplished.
The magician rekindled
the spark of magic
for many young adults
who, as children, dreamed
of magic in their
future.  Sadly, when
the magician died,
so did all his precious
secrets.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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Tattered, But Safe

Written for:  Sunday Muse  #170




I am torn and tattered
because I never truly
mattered to little
Susie.  Devil was in
that child.  Even her
parents were wary
of her.  She burned
me, drew symbols
on my face, and left
me here to rot when
the family moved.
I wonder who she is
torturing now.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Tea and Cupcakes

Written for:  Poets and Storytellers  (posted by Rommy)

Merriam-Webster defines a way station as 1: a station set between principal stations on a line of travel (such as a railroad) 2: an intermediate stopping place.

"Use the idea of a way station as inspiration for your poem."
Raining hard,
had to find shelter.
Tiny shop
up the road
served only tea and cupcakes.
Serendipity!

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

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Absentee Muse

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Who's Your Muse?
(posted by Ingrid)

"The Muse is part of the Classical Tradition in poetry, which dates back over 2000 years to the poetry of Homer and Hesiod in Ancient Greece. This poetry was originally composed as part of an oral tradition, around 800 B.C., before being committed to writing centuries later."

“As you can see above, to speak of a single Muse is inaccurate, as there were in fact a total of nine Muses in the Classical pantheon. Here they are listed with their names and functions:

  • – Calliope (epic poetry)
    – Clio (history)
    – Euterpe (flutes and music)
    – Thalia (comedy and pastoral poetry)
    – Melpomene (tragedy)
    – Terpsichore (dance)
    – Erato (love poetry and lyric poetry)
    – Polyhymnia (sacred poetry)
    – Urania (astronomy)
For this challenge, I would like you to choose your muse. You can do this in any one of the following ways:

Write a poem invoking the Muse, and following in the long-established classical tradition.
Choose one of the nine Classical Muses and write a poem with her particular area of influence in mind (for example, choose Caliope and write a comedic poem)
Write a poem inspired by your own personal muse, whether that be an individual, a place, or anything else which fires your creativity. You can refer to your muse either directly or indirectly, but some form of reference to your muse as a source of inspiration should be included."



I have a substitute Muse
Thalia is on vacation.
The temp is not the same,
sense of humor–lame.
So I'm feeling the Museless blues.

https://dversepoets.com/2021/07/20/poetics-whos-your-muse/
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Regarding Cruelty

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

"Write a rhyming poem of 4-12 lines using A/B pattern."


Regarding cruel people,
I cannot fathom what
joy they get from being critical.
Do they think they are prime cut?

Perhaps they are uncomfortable
with who they are inside
and so they are contemptible
to those whose inner light they cannot abide.

https://godoggocafe.com/


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“the last word”

Written for:  The Twiglets #236 - "the last word"


Once we had
a Bassett hound,
low to the ground
with stubborn,
steadfast paws. 
Whenever he passed
another dog, both
would bark at each
other, but, Walter
always had to have
the last bark.


Would the last human
left on earth
bother with 
a last word?


he heard the word
while playing baseball with friends–
dinner!


            A man hailing from Williamsburg
           always had to have the last word.
             In a card game one night
               he got into a fight
   yelled, 'you cheated'.  He got decked and no more was heard.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/

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The Game

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #510

Words:  lead, shed, refrain, dream, space, frame, screen,
        seem, lean, game, recede, chain


The refrain was, it's only a game.
Do not shed any tears if you lose.
Whichever player seems in the lead,
in the next frame, might have no clue.

Lean into your stance.
Do not recede in a dream
or the space will widen between
players, and you'll have to be re-screened

to see if you are properly trained
to participate, to have a chance
at winning the fabulous prize
of gold watch on a chain.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
 
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Speeds

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #343 - Fast and Slow
"We’ll write either into a poem. But to compound things further, you are to come up with a compound word highlighting either extreme."


When Speedy Alka-Seltzer
met Speedy Gonzales
he was talked into eating
two fiery hot tamales.

He was only a snail
creeping along
who had no intention
of hastening to a crawl.

So lethargic
was Elmer Fudd,
no wonder bugs
left him in the mud.

If you happen to meet two Speedys
or a snail on a slow creep
Caution them 'bout Bugs and Elmer
or the sound of approaching Meep! Meep!

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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Breathing the Sun

Written for:  Sunday Muse #169
Let that hot desert sun
paint my face. Want to forget
the Winter, the City, 
that chill that sets in
your bones, so that you
never feel warm.  

Car rides along, strong
breezes blow through
my hair.  No cares, 
for I am a merely 
a passenger without 
responsibilities–
at least for a while.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/ 
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My Pal

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe
Donna Matthews challenge:  rime couee form


She is old and hobbles about,
roams at night, tries sorting things out.
What's wrong, I want to ask
as I look into soulful eyes.
'though she can't speak, I feel her pride.
Fifteen years swiftly passed.

https://godoggocafe.com/

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twilight haiku

Written for:  Poets and Storytellers United  (posted by Magaly)
Weekly Scribblings #78:  Micro-writings


twilight tweaks her nose
rainbow colors gather
night waits in the wings

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
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“folded paper”

Written for:  The Twiglets #235 - "folded paper"


For me, an art is
the ability to fold
an open map.


Notes of brightly
colored folded
papers strewn
about my bag–Post-It Parade


floats down serene lake
slight ripple in the mast
child's paper boat


         He worked in a paper factory,
     reams of white as far as the eye can see
           One day he went mad
        and with crayons in hand,
     drew tie-dyed drawings in a frenzy.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/

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Last Laugh

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille #131
(posted by Brian Miller)


Jumps off his motorcycle
at the local juke joint,
Daggers.  Golden oldies 
blast from the juke box.  He
remembers all the words 
to each song, and the
teen he was, dubbed
creepy by the “ins”.
Now he owns half
the town.  No more
juking.

https://dversepoets.com/
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Self Degridation

Written for:  lifeafter50forwomen.com
Host:  Dakshali - Picture Prompt Plate #1

Attired in old nightgown,
she gazes pensively out
her window.  Plants are
blooming.  She is not. 
Dissatisfied with her
life and the ennui that
accompanies it.  Most
of all, dissatisfied with
herself for her inability
to tell him she is no 
longer willing to act
the role of mistress,
nor does she wish
to marry him.

https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/
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The Interruption

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings - Prompt #342
"Not An Exit"

"Write an exit or not an exit poem"


Stark naked
on a folding
cot, the couple's
lovemaking is
interrupted by
a pink-cheeked 
grandmother.
"Oh my, isn't
this the exit?"
Male of couple,
face flaming 
from being caught,
as well as for
Grandma's mistake
bellows, "Can't you
read the sign 
that says No Exit?"
Pink cheeks firing
up, the grandmother
says, "I am close to blind.
Your excuse is mistaking
the No Exit sign for a 
Bedroom.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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For Ocean Lovers

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #509

Words:  eat, shadow, unraveling, fish, language, feast,
        flame, risk, saved, stone, spray, off


Spray off ocean waves
emits a fishy scent 
as it slides over
small stones on shore.
Feast for the eyes.
Unraveling, as water
turns lacy at the hem,
waves leave shadows
on the sand.  Flames
flicker from afar
where teens build
a camp fire, impatient
to eat their roasted
marshmallows  Dare I
risk a swim?

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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The Price You Pay

Written for:  Sunday Muse #168
photograph by Jasper James
With freedom comes
a price.  Assimilating
into a new land
and culture takes
a toll.  The weight
of the city is on
her shoulders.  She
is learning the language,
in hopes of becoming
a doctor as she was
in her old country.  Freedom
is a heavy burden to bear.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/  

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Thinking of You

Written for:  Prompt by Donna Matthews of Go Dog Go Cafe
Rimas Dissolutas form

"Popular with 12th and 13th-century French poets, rimas dissolutas is a poem that rhymes and doesn’t rhyme. For instance, each stanza contains no end rhymes, but each line in each stanza rhymes with the corresponding line in the next stanza–sometimes employing an envoi at the end. There are no rules for meter, line length, or syllables–except that it should be consistent from stanza to stanza."


How I miss you,
hear the echo of your laugh.
Hard life you lived,
hard way you died.

Your counsel was true,
sage advice for smooth path
while yours was rocky and dimmed
by losses your face belied

Strong and courageous-
I cannot say good-bye.

https://godoggocafe.com/2021/07/07/peace-be-by-donna-matthews/
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renga with Jane

Written for:  Carpe Diem #1847 Renga With Jane Reichhold +++ Dancing Lights (Renga: Juunichoo)

Today I was reading in one of Jane Reichhold's Poetry Collections and immediately thought "It's Time Again For A Renga With Jane". So I took a dive into her wonderful dictionary of haiku and extracted a nice series of haiku from "Summer", "Celestial". I gathered six (6) beautiful haiku about clouds to challenge you all with.

Renga, or chained poem, is a nice way of collaborate poetry. The goal is to add your six(6) two lined strofes to the given haiku written by Jane through association.

Here are the six (6) haiku by Jane Reichhold:

beach tent billows
in the summer blue
white clouds

like white whales in the ocean
snorting into lap of water            (Sara)

desert sounds
out of the sun's way
clouds moving

changing color of dawn
from lemon to murky grey              (Sara)

morning downpour
raised to new heights
afternoon clouds

showers to water blooms
thirsty in arid earth                 (Sara)

dancing lights
clouds sprinkle the sun
across water

diamonds gleaming, winking
floating through a blue sea           (Sara)

clouds
colored by open wall
a driftwood lair

turning to burnt umber
settling in a pattern                (Sara)

curving with the land
a rainbow of clouds
moves out to sea

billowing tents return
painted on cerulean sky                    (Sara)


© Jane Reichhold (1937-2016)

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/
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Starting Again

Written for:  Carpe Diem #1846 Trying to restart again

"For this episode I have chosen the title "Trying To Restart Again" and I really hope it will be that way. Restarting is something we all know or have had experiences with I think.

Two examples of restarting your life. That's the idea behind this theme for today's episode."

a new day rises
birds praising their Creator -
the cry of a baby

© Chèvrefeuille (our host)

Here is my attempt:

thumb through photo album
memories sad, yet sweet
new blank album awaits

family changes
deciding how to live
my role becomes different

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/
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Living Blindly

Written for:  Poets and Storytellers United
Weekly Scribblings #77  (posted by Rosemary)
"Boiling Over"

"‘Human arrogance is boiling over’ said Rob Kistner in a comment to a recent Writers’ Pantry, after writing a moving poem about the need for poets to speak out about environmental damage; this poem, which I invite you to read now if you missed it before.

I replied to his comment that it was such a good line, it deserved to be used in a future poem. So, right now, let’s all use it as inspiration – not necessarily the words themselves so much as the idea. (If you do use the actual words, please add a footnote to say you're quoting Rob.) With that inspiration, let’s use our poetic voices now to speak for our earth and its inhabitants."


Who decided our motto
would be Take, Take, Take?
Fake bravado.  There is 
nothing to take, when nothing
is owned.

Who decided that we are superior to:
  Mother Earth and her flowering children
  Animals that have been here from the beginning
  Insects that work diligently to live

There are many species
in this world.  We are
not the best example.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
   
  
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As Seasons Fade

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

"Write a poem using, evanescence, trill, and longevity."


Trilling, tweeting birds in trees
increase longevity, extending 
seasons of spring and summer
'til forever seemed to be
a possibility.  Autumn's chill
waited, elated as the inevitable
evanescence of summer 
sadly came to be.

https://godoggocafe.com/

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“god’s white hair”

Written for:  The Twiglets #234 - "god's white hair"


Pure white ocean waves–
snowy hair of a god


I do not have
the white hair of a god,
said the hare.  Better
get new glasses.


crowd of clouds sails by
she look up from her blanket
sees god's white hair


        He was the underground god of the sea,
           his long white hair no mystery.
             bleached by sea salt, but
               one day he was talked
     into a swimming pool filled with chlorine.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Neighborhood Memories

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings - Prompt #341
"Home Is Where The Poem Is"

"Take the place you were born, where you grew up, or somewhere you lived, and use it is the base of your poem."


This poem is . . .
living on the streets
of Brooklyn.  Spin a
top, string a yoyo.
Roller skates of heavy
steel.  Clamps to adjust
with a key. Skate away!

This poem is . . .
a grownup on the blocks
of Brooklyn, where I
lived in several
apartments–old
buildings with high
ceilings, and large
rooms.

When people ask me
where I'm from, Brooklyn
is my answer.  It has held 
my heart in its grip
all these years.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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Escaping Horror

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #508

Words:  border, finery, surprise, ferocious, child, card,
        form, fine, effervescent, sky, rising, poor


Poor child from across
the border, surprises
everyone in her past
life by rising up
to touch the sky.
A fine, effervescent
form she is, dressed
in her finery, always
remembering to send
letters and holiday
cards to those left
behind in that ferocious
country from which 
she escaped.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

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Tales Told

Written for:  Sunday Muse #167
Half a shipwreck,
no deck, no sailors,
just a rusty chain
hanging down among
the stones where
it washed ashore.
Clouds impose their
steely swirls onto
this hulk.  In Summer,
we climbed up the sides,
gathered inside, and told
ghost stories of captains,
sailors, pirates,
and fool's gold.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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Blank Space

Written for:  Poets and Storytellers United
Weekly Scribblings #76 - Write a Blank  (posted by Rommy)

"For this week’s prompt, I’d like us to play with one of the following phrases:


          - Drawing a blank
          - Blank slate
          - Blank space
           -'Blank'et statement



You can change the tense (ex. “draw a blank”) or change it to plural (ex. “blank spaces”) but some form of the phrase must appear in the post."


A blank space
may be filled with art
or writings.
Pristine now,
care must be taken to choose
flawless fit for page. 

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

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Battles Within

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Quatern  (posted by Donna Matthews)

This poem has 16 lines broken up into 4 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas).
Each line is comprised of eight syllables.
The first line is the refrain. In the second stanza, the refrain appears in the second line; in the third stanza, the third line; in the fourth stanza, the fourth (and final) line.


Battling depression each day.
Try not to fall off the mountain,
though at times my balance teeters.
No one to fight except myself.

Dawn appears with familiar fears.
Battling depression each day,
with hope for a break-through today.
A white meditation ball

that illuminates my body,
chasing charcoal shadows so dark.
Battling depression each day.
Music, writing, family and friends

helps to dilute the gray.  When
out, I wish to spread my stiff wings
like a bird–no destination.
When curtains part, I long to stop
battling depression each day.

https://godoggocafe.com/2021/06/30/a-majestic-machine-by-donna-matthews/
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Put It Aside

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

"Write a poem using, "bury hatchets under buried bodies"


bury your hatchets
time to forgive and forget
too late when buried

https://godoggocafe.com/
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“like fingerprints”

Written for:  The Twiglets #233 - like fingerprints


child draws
in colorful fingerprints


He proclaimed
his innocence
until his fingerprints
were lifted from
the murder weapon.


like crescent moons
miniature in size
new baby's prints


           Impeccably dressed, breath of mint
              first date, he wanted to win
                the affections of Sue
              Touched her sleeve of blue,
     she withdrew.  Saw black fingerprints from newsprint

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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The Will of Weather

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings #340 - Make Your Choice

"Today, the prompt is up to you. This is sort of a wild card day. I will offer three categories from which you choose where your poem takes you. The choices are rather ordinary. The extraordinary thing here will be the poem you write, for you are all extraordinary poets! So, her goes…

Write a colorful poem – Pick a color, any color and write a poem using that color as your inspiration.

Write a weather poem – Everyone talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it. So do something about it and use it in a poem. Wind, rain, snow, wherever you go take the weather with you!

Write a royal poem – You know the hierarchy – King, Queen, Prince, …Choose a ranking and make yourself the (your choice) of something. You are the King Of Rhyme, the Queen of Sumptuous foods, the Prince of Pondering… you get the idea. Write a “Royal” poem, but don’t let it be a pain!"


Pale blue sky struggles
to deepen, and coax
sun to appear.  Charcoal
clouds move overhead.  Few
drops of rain.  We are in
a car, nearly home, and several
blocks ahead of us, everything
is enveloped in fog.  Odd.  
We ride into foggy area only
to discover there is no
fog, simply sheets of pounding
water covering the windshield.  
For one chilling moment, nothing 
is visible.  Humidity follows.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/

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Fading Rainbows

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #507

Words:  beam, virtual, spectrum, time, bundle, box, tweak
        breathe, bruise, bit, torn, lost


A
broad-
spectrum
rainbow's beams
are virtually
bundled colors, seen after rain.
They cannot be tweaked or placed in a box of crayons.
Breathe in cool air, 'til
bit by bit, colors fade like healing bruises.  Leave me torn and lost

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/ 
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Animal Classifieds

Written for:  Sunday Muse #166

Wolf seeking new home
Must have adequate forestry
Dens required
Running water
No fixer-uppers

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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Middle Of The Night

In middle of night,
I wake in a fright.
Nightmare.

Its come back again,
and I wonder when
to dare
close my eyes to light,
and banish that sight
elsewhere.
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Grasping A Moment

I cannot grasp my moment.
They all go by so quickly
Look at an old photograph;
start with laugh, end with weeping.
That moment passed
by, new one popped up.

Hold on to a moment, for
then it it is gone, and will you
remember?
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Divisions of Time

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics  (posted by Lisa)
One True Sentence

"Pick one of Hemingway's quotes to be inspired by,
and write a poem."


Time has been divided
into days, hours, 
minutes.  Time is only
an idea.  Now is your
moment.  Observe all
that surrounds you,
before now becomes
then.

"There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that? There is only now, and if now is only two days, then two days is your life and everything in it will be in proportion."
–For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940)

https://dversepoets.com/2021/06/22/dverse-poetics-one-true-sentence/
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The Days of Lemonade

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

"Write a poem using "lemonade days".


Children set up a stand
selling lemonade in days of Summer.
Friends lent them a helping hand,
dependent of course on weather.

A dime a cup was all they charged
for pure homemade lemonade.
Fifteen cents bought you a large.
From nearby tree, a bird serenade.

Today the sun bears down 
only a soft breeze sashays
to take away your frown,
for these are the lemonade days.

https://godoggocafe.com/
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“shadows vanish”

Written for:  The Twiglets #232 - "shadows vanish"


When his shadow vanished
so did I.


After the plum-scarlett 
sky vanished, night
occluded the beach.
Not even shadows
could be seen.


shadows imprinted
confused frog on lily pad
sees two reflections


              Wendy was worried and pacing
         Peter's shadow had fallen while chasing
            Tinkerbell, so jealous
           of Wendy, such rudeness.
     Wendy sewed Peter's shadow back, Tinkerbell raging.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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First Beach Visit

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday 6-21-21: Solstice I
(posted by Frank J. Tassone)

"Whether you are visiting the beach for the first day of summer, or building the first snowman of Winter, breathe in the Solstice air. Celebrate the day with an original haibun that alludes to the Solstice, whether Summer or Winter."


Wriggling my toes in the foam of the ocean
brought a sudden chill.  First beach visit
of Summer, and the water felt blue-lip icy.

Before water reached my waist, I splashed into
the ocean.  When I walked out to dry off,
I turned back, standing still as the sun overhead.

      opened buttercup
      fills with summer sunbeams
      overflowing joy

https://dversepoets.com/
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Sweetness

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings - Prompt #339, Makes Sense

"Today, we are addressing the idea of sense. There are the five senses and the organs that put them to work. There is dollars and “cents.” There are different scents in our daily lives, We can also address a sense of humor, a sense of decency, common sense, a sense for business, a sense of closeness and loss … or any other sense you know or make up. All these can be put into play in your poem. Put your poetic skills to work and let us sense your muse!"


sent through summer breeze 
the scent of perfumed jasmine
symbol of sweetness

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/


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Non-keeper

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #506

Words:  symbol, sign, history, end, onslaught, people, slide, pour,
        drought, still, week, nights


Don't pour me no more,
slide out that door. You
are history.  Mystery to
me how I didn't recognize
the signs of 'bad dude'
all through those nights,
now at an end.  After
the onslaught of flowers
and gifts, you began
to drift, a symbol
of a non-keeper.  After
a week you'd return
stinking like an old
still.  People warned
me, but I was in a
deep drought, and thought
you would provide a way out.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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“summertime”

Written for:  Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #1845 Troiku Challenge: Summertime

"I have chosen the theme Summertime for this Troiku Challenge, because here in The Netherlands we have a very warm, say hot, time with temperatures rising above 30 degrees Celsius, so yes it is Summertime here."



at the seashore
wind of summer through my hair
the shortest night

© Chèvrefeuille (our host)



at the seashore
wind of summer through my hair
the shortest night

at the seashore
dip my toes into ocean
water rushes in

wind of summer through my hair
scent of salt and brine
tickles my nose

the shortest night
moonlight touches waves
sight imprinted in mind

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/

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Chill In My Bones

Written for: Sunday Muse #165 (posted by Fireblossom)

Education.  That's what 
I need if I ever
hope to leave this
job, the boss that
comes with it, and
this godforsaken country.
Two choices of weather
here, rain or fog.  I
wait in my assigned
spot for Mr. I Am
The Smartest.  Permanent
case of the chilly-willies
snaking through my 
clothing, and settling
in my bones.  I try to
send most of my money
to Ma.  The need is
great, so for now
I must keep this job.
Live in a rathole,
and probably eat
less than the rats. 
It is all about education.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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