Here is the challenge given by okcforgottenman. The three words he gave me are hubris, hat rack and unwieldy. The poem below is given in jpeg form because it is a shape poem and WordPress changes the shape to left justified in the Reader.
To see my other poems written for this prompt, go HERE.
Thanks, okcforgottenman, for the three-word prompt. To see okcforgottenman’s blog, go HERE.
The Prompt: Write a piece making use of an article, a noun and an adjective provided by one of your viewers.
Kicking the Bucket
I do not like the bucket list, in fact I just abhor it
even though I know the masses tend to just adore it.
Anything where many rush to jump onto a wagon,
makes my skin crawl and alerts my impulse to start gaggin’.
I like originality in labeling my wants.
I do not even like to visit trendy restaurants.
And so to ask me to record my bucket list for you,
let alone prioritize, choosing one or two
to brag about as though the label “bucket list” is clever,
makes me want to find a guillotine and pull the lever!
I have no list of what I want to do before I go.
I only have the wish to still maintain the status quo
by staying healthy and alert and doing every day
precisely what I want to as I make my way
toward the final hour and toward my final minute.
I simply want to live my life with me securely in it!
Sound of mind and active, engaged with other folks
without becoming fodder for younger people’s jokes.
Not the fogie sitting safely in her lair
bibbed and drugged and senile in the pen of elder care.
I want to end my time on earth devoid of tear or sigh
sitting at a table drinking rum and eating pie!!!
The Prompt: What is the eleventh item on your bucket list?
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/kick-it/
Holy Moly
My friend Michael and I love to issue poetry challenges to each other. We once did one on parts of the body: Knees, etc. So, when I noticed his bandaged big toe and asked if it was broken and he replied that he’d had a mole removed from it, I decided it was time for another challenge. Below is his poem and then my reply:
ODE TO A MOLE (recently removed from my toe)
Old friend, we trod the bumpy road
of ups and downs together, you and me –
I send you home with this sad ode
to join your scabby family.
You were an ugly, lumpy one
but always benign in your own way –
you did no harm to anyone,
now you’re cut off and thrown away.
Although your features did not please,
I give you this, my final thought
for one who sometimes smelt like cheese
“They also serve who only stand and wart!”
Michael Warren
This poem was written in answer to Michael’s. May he forgive me for using his personae in writing it.
Holy Moly
Oh mole that graced my biggest toe,
you had a thankless row to hoe.
I did not know your purpose there–
devoid of title and of hair.
Had I but known why you were given,
had you only come and shriven,
I might have given absolution,
reacted with less resolution
to sever our relationship
–to halt the surgeon’s unkind snip.
We have so little knowledge of
digits that fill our socks or glove.
We do not know of strange attractions
that might have influenced your actions.
Oh mole that lived beneath my knee,
my leg, my ankle and most of me––
that chose to dwell far far below,
clinging to my aging toe.
What fierce attraction brought you there
to form this most unlikely pair?
Came you from Nile or from Ganges
to wed largest of my phalanges?
How did you choose from all that were
to settle there on him or her?
(I am embarrassed here to note,
I only know my toes by rote:
big toe, second toe, middle toe, stinky,
little toe, simply known as pinky.
I do not know their names or gender,
only that they’re long and slender.)
True, I clip their nails with care––
remove the occasional long-grown hair––
but I never address my bod
lest others label me as odd.
So you must know this apology
is no means a doxology.
I do no honor to thy name.
I do not wish to spread your fame.
In short, that act would be absurd.
I simply want to say a word
explaining to you that although
your habitation of my toe
was ended by easy decision,
I felt no scorn and no derision.
I hope this ode might serve to leaven
your anger as you speed towards heaven.
I really would not like to think
that once arrived, you’d raise a stink
to blacklist my immortal soul
by making a mountain out of a mole.
–Judy Dykstra-Brown
Sport Retort
When faced with talk of games and sport,
I seldom have cause to retort.
For dribbling, sparring, touching down
raise no emotions but a frown.
The games I play are just of mind
Less physically taxing and more kind.
Using tongues and brains to spar,
I am more likely under par
than when I hit a pock-marked ball
off of the course to hit a wall,
bounce off and into someone’s car
to be transported to regions far.
I have not thought to scream out, “Fore!”
My terminology’s as poor,
I fear, as my coordination,
I will not, ever, stun the nation
with my prowess with balls or bats,
parallel bars, hurdles or mats.
Likewise, I have no interest in
watching others skate and spin,
touch balls down or thrust a fist.
When it comes to sports, I must insist
when the tube depicts each bout,
I am forgiven for running out!!!
(Thanks for the loan of the golf balls, Jan!)
The Prompt: Are you a sports fan? If not, tell us why.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/fandom/
After Vespers
I arrived home with much ado,
removed a small stone from my shoe,
took off my girdle, straightened my hat,
smoothed my gloves and kissed the cat!
I believe in proper things––
all the joys good breeding brings.
I do not spit, smoke weed or curse.
I carry breath mints in my purse.
I go to church. I tithe and pray.
I brush my teeth three times a day.
But when I went to watch TV,
I found a strange sight greeting me,
for there sitting upon my couch,
next to my little cat treat pouch,
were two small beings––a her and he––
the lady perched on the fellow’s knee.
They both looked up with cool aplomb
as though they hadn’t dropped a bomb
appearing with no invitation.
What’s more, to my great perturbation,
balanced on the lady’s knee
was the chocolate cake I’d meant for me!!!
She took a bite and gave him one,
then turned to me when she was done,
addressing me, though we’d not met.
(I mean, just how rude could one get?)
And what she said in a haughty tone,
perched upon her human throne?
“I’m afraid this cake is rather dry.
I wonder, have you any pie?”
I’ll tell you no more of this story,
for after that, things just got gory.
My opening words would seem most pale
compared to the ending of my tale.
Suffice it then for me to say
the uninvited didn’t stay.
Afterwards, my gloves came off.
I cleared my throat and gave a cough.
I scraped the cake crumbs in the sink,
mixed myself a little drink,
closed the drapes, unplugged the phone
and stretched out on my couch––alone.
As I settled down to Downton Abbey,
I was feeling way less crabby.
Real glad I hid the pie, y’all,
because I sat and ate it all!!!
The Prompt: Unexpected Guests. You walk into your home to find a couple you don’t know sitting in your living room, eating a slice of cake. Tell us what happens next. What a hilarious prompt! I loved writing this one.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unexpected-guests/
Stuffed
I lose my glasses, cuss and mutter,
but my worst quality is clutter!
I have a drawer just filled with socks
I never wear. And pans and woks,
old dishes, fondue pots and skewers,
a fourteen-year-old bottle of Dewars
not one friend drinks, much less myself,
sitting there upon my shelf.
Everything I buy just clings.
I can’t seem to part with things!
In boxes on my garage shelves
are all my former castoff selves.
The slides from art shows long ago?
I dread sorting them and so
they remain in plastic crates,
labeled with their types and dates.
Old letters, class notes, tax returns?
I’ve heard that paper easily burns
as well as shreds, yet still I wait.
Years pass as I equivocate.
They might be needed someday so,
get rid of them? I just say no!
My studio is filled with things.
My jewelry drawers with bracelets, rings.
My closets stuffed with different sizes,
shelves stacked with future gifts and prizes.
Snow boots although it never snows
anywhere this woman goes.
A safari hat with veil
hangs upon a closet nail
along with wet suit, snorkel, fins,
and other useless hoarding sins.
My kitchen is a spice museum.
So many spices, I can’t see um.
Fenugreek and capsicum
that I was given by my mum
so long ago they have no taste,
green olives and tomato paste
well past the date they should be used.
Yes, my house should be perused
and sorted out, I must admit,
instead, I sit and write of it!
I know some folks clear out their closets,
but me? I only make deposits!
The Prompt: Flawed––What is your worst quality? https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/flawed/
hyperbolic photo by okcforgottenman–thanks!!!
Built-in Guilt-in
With leaking roof and floors atilt,
She hates the house her husband built.
Yet her affection rose above it.
Her reaction? Dear, I love it!!!
Now every time she goes to doze,
doors creak open and then close.
Trips to the bathroom make her seasick–
the perfect place for her to be sick!
She’d like to say, if she were able,
she fears the wall joists are unstable;
for every time she leans on them,
the pictures tilt and lights all dim.
In autumn, shingles fall like leaves.
She hates how the foundation heaves.
As walls close in and ceilings shift,
She rues her husband’s every thrift.
Their marriage is a thing of bliss.
She still swoons to his deep kiss.
He is a lover kind and true.
He rubs her feet when she is blue.
She loves him still with all her heart.
They’ll be together ‘til death do part.
She only hopes that his construction
is not the means to their destruction!
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/the-guilt-that-haunts-me/
Humble is Sweeter Served Between Two Crusts!
The Indigestibles
No room for mushrooms, can’t live with liver.
The thought of brains just makes me shiver.
Though I like pizza, my other law
is I don’t eat tomatoes raw!
Drinking milk’s against my wishes.
Fish is simply for the fishes.
I eat no veal or other baby,
and steak for me is simply “maybe.”
So if it’s your plan to invest
in things that I like to ingest,
I won’t make it any harder
for you to come and stock my larder.
All else you want to bring to feed me—
what edibles you wish to cede me:
Injera, curries, Thai, Chinese—
all are sure to tempt and please.
Except for one thing I just thought of
that in the past I’ve had a lot of.
There’s one more mouthful I won’t try.
I have no taste for humble pie!
(Yes, ’tis true. You’ve seen this before. Not enough hours in the day lately, and if the prompt fits, reblog it, I say!!!!)
How’s It Going?
Whether I’m going near or far,
my choice of travel is always car.
I like to go at my own pace,
to break away from life’s mad race,
to take that road that leads to “where?”
and see what they are keeping there.
At roadside diners to share a yarn.
To investigate that leaning barn.
A tour or cruise or packaged deal
does not account for how I feel.
They’re too much like our daily life––
alarm clocks, deadlines, schedules, strife.
Serendipity is what sates
while schedule just regulates.
In short, when going over yonder,
I prefer to merely wander.
n response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.”You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, or car? (Or something else entirely — bike? Hot air balloon?)
“Absence of Malice” Judy’s Poem and Reissue of the Challenge!!!
You never told me you wanted the head of your bathtub rubber duckie attached, Mom!
Okay—the first person to answer my challenge was Marilyn Armstrong. She commented on her own Scottie named Bonnie, which made it a bit hard to construct a poem using as my first words the first words of her eight sentence essay. I actually used each of her first words twice, to enable me to construct a 16 line poem. Here it is:
I’m the owner of a Scottie.
I watch him tear around––
bonnie little terrorizer.
Terriers get around!
Which apparel did he chew up
that I wear every day?
It probably was not his fault,
most Scottie folks would say.
I’m guilty of the dumbest act.
I should have known the pup.
Bonnie little masticators,
terriers like to sup.
Which are the things they like to chew?
That is hardly recent news.
It seems that what their jaws like best
most certainly are shoes!
I’m still waiting for more entries for the challenge. Check out the quote and explanation of the prompt posted on my earlier posting HERE and post a link to your entry in my comments! If I find a juicy one on a topic other than dogs, I’ll write another poem as well, using the first word of each of your sentences as the first word in one of my lines., in order. Your entry can be a story, poem or essay.
Here is Marilyn’s comment I used to spark my poem:
“I’m glad sweet, retiring, shy little Morrie seems to be growing out of his “my jaws, the world” phase. I had one hound who never grew out of it and we lived in a state of siege for 12 years. Bonnie settled down around 2 years old, which is when most dogs seem\ to release those final gas bubbles from their funny little brains. Terriers mature slowly and stay puppy-like longer than most breeds. Which makes them terrorists — but lovable; you may WANT to strangle them, but usually wind up laughing.
That quote has worked for me in so many ways. It reminds me (often) that acts of true malice are relatively rare. Most stuff is done by accident or ignorance or just a flash of “duh” … to which, sadly, we all are prone.”
(Sorry, Marilyn. I missed this last line because it was on a separate page of my document. Since I’d already written the poem and since it would have added an extra line to the second and fourth stanzas, I didn’t go back and add it. Here is Marilyn’s last overlooked line: “But not Morrie! He’s always smart!”
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lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 