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 , , , , | 1 Comment


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.
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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.
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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
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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.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | 11 Comments

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.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 18 Comments

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. 
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 11 Comments

Two Stages of Grief

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Small Change or Big Bucks
(posted by msjadeli)

"Good Tuesday, d’Versians! It’s Lisa, with Poetics. I know Spring is a time for new life, the end of a long winter, and hope is walking beside us along the path. Why then, does my mind turn to death and loss? Along with the light of Spring also walks the shadow of death in the forms of war, pestilence, environmental destruction, the quickly-approaching depletion of fossil energy fuel to power our machines, and billionaires desperately trying to get off of the planet while there is time."

"Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, M.D. (July 8, 1926 – August 24, 2004) was a Swiss-born psychiatrist, a pioneer in Near-death studies and the author of the groundbreaking book On Death and Dying (1969,) where she first discussed what is now known as the Kübler-Ross model. In this work she proposed the now famous Five Stages of Grief™ as a pattern of adjustment. These five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The five stages have since been adopted into The Kübler-Ross Change Curve™ by many corporations to train employees in change and loss." 

"Today’s challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to choose one or more of Kubler-Ross’ stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) to write about, in relation to your, or another’s, current state of being."

I cannot deny
the eye of grief
when I am standing
in front of the source.
My little pal, ever at
my side, has died.  He lay
on an afghan looking 
the very picture
of peace.  I touched
his silky head gently,
knowing he was already
gone.  And I cried,
and cried, and cried.
I have not passed over
into anger nor any type
of bargaining.  A heavy
stone lies across my
heart.  I look for him
in all his favorite
spots, especially 
next to me 
on the couch
late at night, 
both of us sharing 
a blanket. 
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

“the wind rattles”

Written for:  The Twiglets #277 - the wind rattles

Rain rattles
old window panes
in wooden frames

Out in the desert
wind storms whirl.
Scent of smoke
leaves people rattled.

brisk april wind
rattles branches of cherry trees
petals fall like pink snow

            After arguing with his spouse
       he slammed the door, and left the house.
          Went for a walk in the woods
            feeling misunderstood
when wind blew him down on rattler who loved to roughhouse.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , , | 7 Comments


Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt

"Use the words ghoul, blood, and infant in a piece of writing."

His appearance is that
of an infant–sweet
face, bouncy curls.  
When darkness sets
in, his true self
within emerges–a ghoul
who is out for blood.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments


Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #151 - static
(posted by Mish)

"As an adjective, the word “static” offers you…

“a lack of movement, animation, or progression”

“showing little change”

“producing an effect of repose or quiescence”

“standing or fixed in one place”

“of a weight force, or pressure acting but causing no movement”

“noting or pertaining to atmospheric electricity interfering with radar, radio, the sending and receiving of wireless messages”

The word “static” originates from the Greek word “Statlike” (to bring to standstill or a state of no movement). You can use derivatives such as statical, statically, electrostatic or create an original hyphenation. Dabble with the effects of static in space, physics, nature, relationships, society or yourself, with whatever definition you choose.

In childhood game
called Statues,
we moved about 
in any fashion we liked 
someone called ‘Freeze!’
Instantly, we had to
become static as
a statue.  We were
frozen, afraid to
blink.  Who could
hold out the longest?
Not me.  I was too

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Not For Me

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #384 - Instant Millionaire

"What would you do with an unexpected million dollars?"

I never buy tickets for lottery.
If I won I'd be a nervous wreck.
With thousands of animal charities,
I never buy tickets for lottery.
If I left one out, I'd feel guilty.
Besides, I'd always be paying the check.
I never buy tickets for lottery.
If I won I'd be a nervous wreck.
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Let’s Play Detective

Written for: Sunday Whirl, Wordle #551

Words:  box, tip, pet, detective, embellishment, flash, planets, moon,
        eternity, check, trail, relish

Let's play Detective!
We'll put some gear
in a box–flashlight,
magnifying glass–in case
the moon shies sky–and a
felt-tipped pen for marking
our trail.  We can even
embellish our look if
we wear raincoats.  Check
with your folks to see
if they will let Spokes 
come along.  I don't relish
possibility of night
creatures.  Imagine if
they were from another
planet with weird 
features, and took us
away for all eternity?
Spokes would be provoked
into action.  So, let's
play Detective, but
I have to be home
by eight.
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Mystery Of The Keys

Written for:  Sunday Muse #208

"Today as you can see, we have a theme going on.  Each image holds something similar yet something different.  Take hold of the one that speaks to you and follow where it leads."

The ornamental ones
are probably red
herrings.  That leaves
many of the same type
from which to choose.  
Old Uncle Elmer always 
loved his riddles, treasure
hunts, and mysteries.  This
ancient paint-splotched work
bench is the site of craft,
and craftiness.  Each niece
and nephew gets one hour
apiece to select a key,
rummage through that cobwebbed
attic, and try to find its
match.  Mind you, some of the
keys will open absolutely
nothing.  Good old Uncle Elmer.   
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , | 15 Comments


Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 30

"Write a moving on poem."

is loss
of my heart.
How do I move
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The Last Pet Companion

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 29

You are
my darling boy,
issues throughout your life.
Now your frame appears skeletal
It's time
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Sight Unseen

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 28

"Write a sight poem."

He bought the house sight unseen.
She had no idea, was not consulted.
Contrary to what he thought,
being happy was not the result.

No one buys a house online, said she.
Oh, I am furious that you left me out.
So, better put it on hold until I see for myself.
Though you think it a grand house, I have my doubts.
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Why Do I Shout?

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 27

"Write a remix poem.  Take one of your poems and remix it, e.g.
change form."

(Remix of Day 15 - Patience poem)

Why do I shout
at him?  My patience
wears thin, but
he is not at fault.
Meditation slows
my breathing, calms
a racing heart. A deep
breath in, and slow
breath out relieves 
that state of anxiety
over a situation I can
do nothing about.  A
progressive disease 
takes its toll on 
the one who suffers, 
and the others
who watch.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

Which Bird Is That?

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

"Today, let’s experience the joy of bird songs! Write a haibun that alludes to bird songs, or your favorite songbird."

A dawn chorus of songbirds is a delight to hear.  I look out my window, and up into the nearby trees to try and determine which song and bird are a match.  I usually cannot see them as their concert tweets on.

When my husband and I would go out to Montauk, Long Island, there was one bird that had such a distinct sound, but we never got to see it.  If I had to describe the sound, it would be, pffft-ttt ttt ttt ttt ttt.  We called it the Montauk bird.

      chorus begins
      sounds of spring melodies

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“cracked stucco”

Written for:  The Twiglets #276 - cracked stucco

When the stuccoed wall
had dried, a crack appeared
in the shape of a bird.

Are you stuck? Oh,
sorry.  Made me
crack up.

he stands appalled
with onset of Spring weather
she paints stucco pink

                 A man enamored of stucco
                painted their bedroom cocoa.
                The room looks much smaller,
                said his shocked wife, Paula,
           like I'm stuck in a sandwich minus mayo.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Love of Friends

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 26

"Write a love and/or anti-love poem."

Solid love for old friends,
acute yearning to spend some time
with those who helped me climb
this steep ladder of mine.  I could
have slipped off rungs of wood
but they understood support.
Mere phone calls come up short.
I wish for days not fraught with ills.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

The Next Day

Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #383 -
It's Never Too Late to Learn Something New

I listen, I learn
something new.  I watch
the Great Courses DVDs,
enthralled to discover
mysteries of the brain,
life of Vincent Van Gogh,
and how to look at
masterpieces of art.
Part that frustrates me
is that next day my newly
acquired knowledge is gone.
Retaining is learning.  My
mind is yearning, but brain
cells keep slipping away.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Hatred and Power

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #550

Words:  reject, color, suffering, mass, war, cloud, kill,
        trenches, search, forgive, next, earth

They descended 
upon him en masse.
Searched their 
town under a cloud
of righteousness.  
They would not suffer
a man of his color
to live in their
city.  Soon as 
the man entered
a local grocery, he
was rejected openly,
ridiculed, and cursed.
He and his family 
had just moved in.  They
were not planning on
any next place.  Race was 
not something that needed
forgiving.  The son 
was set upon outside
school with taunts
and threats.  One 
heavy-set bully, red
-faced with hatred swung
a baseball bat.  The others
shouted at him 'Stop!
You'll kill him.'  He
did not stop.  The tormented
boy lay still, his blood
soaking into the earth.

Across the world, a nation
lived in peace.  Yet, a war-
monger came, and then,
trenches.  Another country 
descended upon them.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Foiled Attempt

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge  Day 25

"Write a response poem to another poet's poem or an earlier one 
 of your own."

 (Response to Day 12's Escape Attempt)

Thought you could break
Out of prison
Stood a minute too long
Light swept across you
Years tacked on to sentence
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How Villains Fare

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 24

"Write a superhero or super-villain poem."

Cannot decide on the worst villain–
Captain Hook, team of Boris and Natasha,
callous witch with poisoned apple, and pointed chin.
Could be Snidely Whiplash, or Red Queen, a Wonderlander.

A plotting Captain Hook was feared
as he forced trembling men to walk the plank.
As for Boris and Natasha, no one cheered.
A witch with poisoned apple pretended it was a prank.

Not a match for Dudley Do-Right, Snidely's plans were foiled.
Nell's cries for help were clearly heard.
Nasty Red Queen shouted; subjects stopped being loyal.
No tarts were ever discovered, names never learned.

Never trust a person named Hook
nor a team of Russians out for squirrel and moose.
Not wise to accept an apple from a stranger with evil looks.
Naughty Snidely Whiplash will fail to ever let you loose.
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Miracle of Music

Written for:  Sunday Muse #207

"Choose an image that speaks to you."

A man listening to a gramophone in what’s left of his bombed-out bedroom in Aleppo, Syria. Photography by Joseph Eid
My family has died off
slowly.  I do not know
if any friends have
survived this latest
destruction.  What miracle
left my gramophone standing
in this rock pile I must
now call home?  Lucky old
man that I am, I can still
hear the strains of
beautiful music, after
the bombing has stopped.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , | 30 Comments


Written for:  Friday Writings #23:  Write your medicine
(posted by Magaly)

"Shape your words around the idea of medicine for the body and soul."

Nothing works as well as laughter
to help you through difficult times.
Pain and illness can seem like disaster,
makes you feel like you're stuck in a blind.

Medications can feel like an anchor
weighing you down in body and mind.
Next day presents a new chapter
to assess what you possess . . . with some wine.
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 18 Comments

Think I Am Being Followed

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 23

"Write a conspiracy poem."

Someone is following me,
stealthy, light footsteps in shadow.
When I turn, they duck behind trees.

Could it be that odd man in the grocery?
His huge backpack might hold bow and arrows.
Someone is following me.

I recall those girls laughing with glee
as I rounded corner of Ladlow.
When I turn, they duck behind trees.

Those strange colored lights in sky can be
alien ships moving in to take me in tow.
Someone is following me.

Pay attention to auguries,
sometimes taking the form of swallows.
When I turn, they duck behind trees.

People scoff at the notion of conspiracy
like it is something you will outgrow.
Someone is following me.
When I turn, they duck behind trees.

Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Free Tuna

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 22
"Write an Organism poem.

oh, sorry Charlie
tuna are sleek and speedy
lazy left behind
continue to roam the sea
slowly enjoying freedom
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Busy Day At Lake

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 21

"Write a sound poem."

Turtle watches from his rock
Flutter, flick of wings in lake.
Honk! Honk! Geese gather.  They see
mound of torn bread.
Webbed feet flap towards food.

Quack1 Quack! Ducks hurry their place,
queue up behind geese to wait.
Pigeons lose.

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Draped in Sadness

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #382
"The End of a Hard Week"

Sadness lingers,
drapes over me
like a black cape.
No escape from
items around my
house that belonged
to my precious dog,
Marion.  My other
dog continues to
to look in, and smell
every corner of yard
and house.  Now he is
in the hospital with
serious health issues.
I feel my life shattering
around me like broken
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments


Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 20

"Write a six words poem, using 3 or all"


contents of suitcase:
one bicycle pump
guide to doubles tennis meet

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Absolutely Fabulous

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Naming the Rose
(posted by Merril)

" I found a list of English country garden roses and picked the following names. Because this is poetry month, and many people are overwhelmed with prompts, I will make this very easy. Choose one—or more–of the names from the list below and use it in your poem OR as a title for your poem. Just to be clear, you can write in any style or form, and the poems do not have to be about roses or flowers. Have fun! I can’t wait to see what you come up with."

Absent Friends
Absolutely Fabulous
A Whiter Shade of Pale
Bobby Dazzler
Boule de Neige
Julia’s Kiss
Leaping Salmon
Pretty Jessica
Purple Tiger
Twice in a Blue Moon

Julia's kiss turned him
a whiter shade of pale.
After Sylvia, the purple
tiger, broke his heart
he could not believe
this love would come to him
twice in a blue moon.
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“a world of words”

Written for:  The Twiglets #275 - world of words

My Thesaurus 
is my world
of alternate worlds.

As a child I gazed
in awe at the many
shelves stocked
with book at the
library.  I wondered
if anyone had read
them all.

in her eyes
he could read all the words
she could not say

                 His friend Bob bought a dictionary
                    to increase his vocabulary.
                     Look here, Fred, Bob said,
                      at the word 'spoon-fed'.
            Your photo should appear here for clarity.
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Two Moms

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 19

"Write a What's There and/or a What's Not There poem."

they called it.
She knew the words
but wrong ones emerged.
Frustration palpable.
Still, she craved chocolate and fries,
loved burgers with sautéed onions.
Beautifully gowned for her friend's affairs,
and late night gossip about being there.

Intelligent and funny was my Mom,
mimicking actors in old movies
that we'd watch together late nights.
In her mid-80's she began
to change–confused at times.
Words hard to come by
turned to nonsense.
Distant eyes.
Where was 
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Chalked Arrows

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #158
(posted by whimsygizmo)

Chalk It Up To Poetry

She grabbed a thick stick of periwinkle blue chalk,
and drew large zig-zagged arrows where people would walk.
She hid far away out of plain sight
and watched, laughing with impish delight
as folks looking tipsy, tried to follow her silly chalk-walk.  
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We Are Six Years Apart

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 18

"Write a We (   ) poem."

We are six years apart.
Ever closer we draw, with time,
reliving childhood, and each fresh start.
Parents gone, like silenced wind chimes.
Still we laugh.  Dark humor never departs.
Love, compassion, and some Key Lime pie.
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Dreary Sunday Morn

Written for:  Sunday Muse - Word Garden Word List #19
(posted by Fireblossom)

Church breakfast is dreary,
shivering in icy basement,
forcing down congealed
eggs on a gray, rainy day.
Our humming host moonlights
for AA meetings held here
in evening.  Joe has
a vacant look, like
someone pulled a shade
down over his eyes.  Haven't
seen his wife in a while.  
Dusty rings of shredding
holiday garland sits
forlornly in an open
box.  As soon as it is
late enough, I make my
escape.  Rain pummels
the roof, unusual in
this month of May.  As
I fetch my car, I hazard
a glance at the small
graveyard.  The residents
are silent.  Only sound
is the cascading rain
bending the moaning
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Cruise Blues

Written for: Sunday Whirl, Wordle #549

Words:  legs, narrow, heart, rain, stretching, door,
        vase, ship, rocked, fold, lingering, instead

I folded.  Never wanted
to take a cruise
but heart outweighs 
head.  She cajoles
me into a too-narrow,
cabin.  Vase of fresh
flowers looms from
a table.  An hour out,
heavy rain storm rocks
the ship.  I need
to stretch my legs, so
I head up to the deck.
Now I have a tough choice
to make.  I can linger
on deck, pea-green 
sick over railing,
or I can race for 
cabin to be violently
ill in private, instead.
I stagger back to our cubby-
hole, and find my wife
dressed in finery, eager
to have dinner.
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Odd Characters Are Widespread

Written for:  April 2022 PAD Challenge - Day 17

"Write a mad poem."

Down here, my dear girl, it is said
odd characters are widespread.
Cheshire cat can vanish
Hatter's teas are clannish
while Red Queen often screams, 'off with her head'.

Caterpillar is always stoned.
Dormouse drinks and it is condoned.
The walrus tricks oysters,
White Rabbit's watch falters
So you see, dear, here we are all twilight-zoned.
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