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. 
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“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.
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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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