Category Archives: Poem

Solo Saturday Night (For the “S” Word Prompt)

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I am starting a new prompt named The “S” Word Prompt. Today’s “S” word is Solo. Please send your own story, poem or photo that shows your response to the word. Here is mine:

Solo Saturday Night

Half lonely, half happy I have no agenda,
I doctor my coffee with creamer and Splenda.
Tapping the keys to put letters together
with fingertips pressing as light as a feather,
I confront my computer and I never fail
to pound out a poem in my own brand of Braille.

I empty my heart of all of its ills––
better than pot or liquor or pills.
It is the prescription I write on my own
to relieve my regrets and stifle each moan.
I confide in myself, then type out what I think––
therapy with no recourse to a shrink.

A Reunion Imperative for dVerse Poets

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Upon Running into a Former Best Friend

Don’t give me cause to regret our reunion.
Don’t bring back to mind our former disunion.
Don’t lament my career or cuss at my kids—
those actions that once put us into the skids—
dissolving our friendship and our former ties
when I’d had enough of your conniving lies.
Don’t inveigle or bemoan your lack of a pension.
Past times I’ve come through I won’t bother to mention.
And if you’ve a reaction and want to explode,
do me a favor. Take it on the road!!!

For dVerse Poets...an Imperative Poem

Just Me for dVerse Poets

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Just Me
Inside my skin, around my bone,
I am me and me alone.
Wherever I choose to abide,
it is just me tucked here inside.
And if you find you’re in a bind,
you’re welcome to explore my mind
and pass on anything you find.

For the dVerse Poets Quadrille challenge, the prompt is “Bone.” Illustration created with AI. (Best I could do.)

Last-Minute Menu Changes

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Last-Minute Menu Changes

My ravenous cats lurk up on the roof
while my dogs all remind me in language of woof
that they’re hollow with hunger and rattled by need
of kibble and catfood to fulfill their greed
for something to fill up space found in their tummies:
chicken or beef or those jerky stick yummies.
Now the dogs rush the door in their need to be seen,
push open the glass door  and rattle the screen.
With a flicker of tail, they crash once and again
into the door screen ’til they have slipped in,
and both dogs and cats leap onto my bed,
shaming their mom, whose face has turned red
with embarrassment over the fact she forgot
to go shopping for food for the whole furry lot!
So I leap from my bed and run down the hall,
pursued by my dogs and my cats, one and all.
Run into the kitchen and throw open the door
of the fridge, then I spread out all over the floor
the food I’d intended to feed to a guest
whom I had invited with all of the rest
of his family to dine–the roast and the cheese
I had purchased because I knew it would please
all my guests–the potatoes and veggies and flan
and I watched all my animals lick every pan
until it was empty of every food scrap,
then they lay on the floor for an after-meal nap
while I wandered in and climbed into my bed
to try to decide what I’d feed instead
to those guests who’d arrive in just 4 hours more.
Then I dressed and departed to drive to the store
to buy frozen pizzas and ice cream and cake
out of which a quick meal I’d return home and make,
shooing out of the kitchen those pets now sedated
once their fierce hunger was finally  abated.
The floor now licked clean, it was one task the less
I’d have to complete. They’d cleaned up their own mess!
So I mixed up a salad and set a fine table
and completed the meal as best I was able.
Poured tequila, cooked pizza and uncorked the wine.
The guests were well-pleased and my pets lay supine
both on terrace and roof or snug in their beds
while visions of roast beef careened through their heads.
And lest you wonder, I’ll say one thing more.
I bought kibble and cat food while there at the store!

 

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 751, the prompt words are: ravenous lurked shame space found glass hollow flicker rattled slip red crash

Letter from the People of America for dVerse Poets

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Letter from the People of America

Photo by Louis Velazquez on Unsplash. Used with permission.

Dear Elected Representatives:
(A Letter from the People of America)

We ventilate our dwellings of many different kinds,
but may not have the sense to ventilate our minds.
Perhaps we fear we’d stir up something that has died—
some milk of human kindness that’s buried deep inside.

As kids sit scared in cages and countless forests burn,
you think you’re given license to hoard all that you earn,
protecting it from others who have need of it,
flailing around in luxuries of your money pit.

Yachts and cars and mansions should not buy peace of mind
when they leave our planet in a lethal bind.
Our plastic world is flailing. It chokes on its excess.
How can you turn your backs on its extreme duress?

We elect our rulers. They are not born to reign.
In return we must demand that they share our pain
and do not profit by it with cash for legislation
leading to their betterment and our consternation.

Look at where we’re going and look at where we’ve been.
Open up your minds. Let truth and justice in.
During your term of office who’s advanced as far as you have?
It seems the teeming masses did not profit as a few have.

We’re taking back our government, abolishing each clause
that gives you the entitlement to profit from the laws
you enact for self-interest. It’s time that you were outed
and all who vote against our interests were routed.

You defend bad judgement, support your corrupt clown.
Now all who stand behind him must also be brought down.
You overlook the obvious for motives all your own.
You’ve opened up the cage and the dove of peace has flown,

stalked by a bald eagle who feeds on those for whom
it should serve as symbol of something else but doom.
We must bring back our liberty, nobility and pride.
Resuscitate a country that many fear has died.

The truth is there before you, so open up your minds
to see there’s a solution for our present binds.
If you refuse to topple that one on whom you dote,
we’ll topple you one after one–when we go to vote!!

For dVerse Poets we are to write a poem in the form of a letter.

“Hide” for SOCS

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Hide-and-go-seek

She enters my hideout and calls it her own.
Now I’ll have to move on, for my cover is blown.
I try to go deeper into my lair
but still she follows, finding me there.
I cannot escape her. She has all my keys.
She blows through my memory like a fine breeze,
usurping my details to make them her own
so I can’t reclaim them, wherever they’ve blown.
From a full-body mirror, she stares back at me.
My elbow’s her elbow. My knee is her knee.
She alters my hairdo and rouges my cheeks.
She searches my memory, looking for leaks,
then piles the lost parts up in her poems,
through her underground railroad, gives them new homes.
When I see myself spread out here in these pages,
some private part of me protests and rages,
but she doesn’t listen. She finds me too fussy.
She leaves herself open, the ungrateful hussy.
Does she not realize that it is me
who has made her whatever she’s turned out to be?
She should listen more closely when I say to stop.
Allow me to be her poetry cop.
But she doesn’t mind. She says what she wishes.
She dines out on me and leaves me with the dishes!

The prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “Hide.”

Writing a Poem for NaPoWriMo Day 3, 2026

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Writing a Poem for NaPoWriMo

I try to comply with the day’s writing task,
and so I rise early to do what they ask.
Turn on my computer to see what I should
write about because I want to be good
and follow the rules and so I start
mining my mind and surveying my heart.

What had I done by seven o’clock?
I’d let in the dog groomer, fastened the lock.
By eight I had fed all the cats and the dog
and turned to my duties: my prompts and my blog.
What had I accomplished by eight or by nine?
I’d returned to the task and and written one line

and worked on another for a short while
’til the plumber arrived with a motor and pile
of tools to put in my garbage disposal.
I talked to the gardener, made a proposal
to plant a new tree, then the housekeeper came.
If my poem went undone, I’d Yolanda to blame.

We talked for awhile, then I bent to my task
A ten minute reprieve was the most I could ask.
At ten, it was Oscar, arrived for his next
lesson in English.  My poem is hexed!
I download five photos that if I am able,
I’ll use with the poem, then spring to the table.

We study the use of “what, when and who”
of “where, why,” and “how,” then the next thing we do
is read a new story about Tio Nacho.
who had an old hat that was not very macho.
He said it in English, I said it in Spanish,
but when we were finished, my poem seemed to vanish.

I finally found it hidden in “notes,”
Found all my photos. Found all my quotes.
I shoo the white kitty off of my purse,
because the plomero I must reimburse.
Then I finish this poem and close up my Mac.
That’s a typical day for this poetry hack!!!

For NaPoWriMo Day 3 we are to write a poem in which a profession or vocation is described differently than it typically is considered to be.

“Different” for the One Word Challenge

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When my husband and I did arts and crafts shows, at least once during every show, someone would wander into our booth, have a good look around, and as they left, shrug their shoulders and say, “Well it’s different!” (Usually pronounced “differnt.”) It actually was an “in” joke between those displaying their art—always interpreted as the speaker not understanding and not really liking the arts and crafts. Growing up in a small town, it was not the first time I’d heard the word in its derogatory sense. Thus, this poem: 

“Different”
When I finally made my way into the world so wide
I found myself exotic. Somehow transmogrified.
I liked being the foreigner, eminent in my oddity.
I found that being different was a definite commodity.
It was my prerogative to be just who I was
without creating currents in the small town buzz
of that place I had grown up in. My acts were less explosive.
My strange words now acceptable, not garnered as corrosive.
They thought my weird behavior typical of my nation—
those oddities of word choice and excesses of oration.
In finally being somewhere where “different” was not a sin,
the more different that I was, the more that I fit in!!!

For Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Anomalous. (deviating from what is standard, normal, or expected.)

Killer Clowns and Other Threats

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Killer Clowns and Other Threats

Robot ghosts from outer space
are in the sky, then in your face.
They sat behind you once in school,
thinking all the world they’d fool,
but recently they have been outed,
so although formerly I doubted
action adventure’s crazy plots
of giant creatures and evil bots,
recent events most grieveable
have made such things believable.

This orange devil we’ve elected
and all the buffoons he’s collected
make killer clowns from outer space
less scary than villains we face
day by day in our own world.
So let those forces be unfurled
to fight with him both tooth and bone
so he’ll leave our innocents alone!

Hope “springs” eternal, so I’m using this farcical response to the dVerse prompt this week, no matter how farfetched!!! The hats on the guys  in the UFO are supposed to read “Make Space Great Again,” but couldn’t get AI to cooperate. They came close, so have some of the ICE agents displaying their motto instead. Perhaps they have been in cahoots all along.

“The Full Story” for The Sunday Whirl

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The Full Story

Thinking creatures don’t mind visiting those rumbles in their heads
that contain their darkest thoughts––both phobias and dreads––
that exist alongside their wishes, hopes and dreams.
For writers, criminals and gods seem to exist in teams,
walking through their consciousness, sometimes in equal measure,
as though they know that gold and dirt are equally a treasure
when it comes to spinning tales that reflect all the world they see.
So, at story time, we flock like children to their knee
to hear the truth of all the world––its laughter and its wails––
for life consists of tragedies as well as  pretty tales,

Prompts for The Sunday Whirl are: mind visit thinking creature exists criminal know dirt walk head writer rumbles (Image created with the aid of AI)