Category Archives: Poem

Stating the Obvious

22 Replies

Stating the Obvious

We’ve hit a cosmic bottleneck and every day I rue it,
for I have the feeling that we will not make it through it.
They’ve indexed the world’s problems, but knowing that they’re there
seems to do very little in solving the nightmare.

We do not yield to pressure to try to cure the ills.
We only seem to kneel before the moneyed class’s wills.
We temper fear with hope that someone else will solve the puzzle
of the fact the whole damn world is staring down a muzzle.

Kids shoot other kids with guns but adults do not care
so long as the NRA sanctions the warfare.
We ban those from our borders who clean up all our messes,
then wonder why we’re drowning here in our own excesses.

Amazon sells refreshments as we all just sit and watch
as climate change keeps shifting the danger up a notch.
Meanwhile, the rich get richer and we ignore the poor
as the ones who need it least acquire more and more.

The polar caps are melting as California burns,
and in between, the drought and floods keep on taking turns.
Hurricanes, tornadoes and cyclones mount and mount,
raising the fatalities higher than we can count.

Nobody knows the answer for how to please us all,
yet we forget we all are one on this great blue ball.
If only we could find a way to even out the score
and give up some of what we’ve got so others can have more.

Sacrifice fossil fuel to give the world a chance.
Tear down the oil derricks. Replace them with plants.
Make sure the rich pay taxes on a par with all the rest.
Admit that we don’t own the Earth. We are just its guest!!!

 

Prompts today are temper, index, cosmic, bottleneck, kneel and refreshments.

Unhoarded Treasures

12 Replies

Uhhoarded Treasures

Those things seen on the surface
form the network of our world—
rain turned into rainbows
with their colors all unfurled.

This greatest spectacle
is spread out for all to see,
for the greatest treasures of the world,
blessedly, are free.

Even the biggest pessimist
among us must admit
that a bit of pleasure
may be derived from it.

Prompts today are surface, unusual, network, pessimistic, fee and rainbow.

Writer’s Block

3 Replies

Writer’s Block

This poem will go unspoken, unwritten, unconceived.
It will have no mentor by which it’s been received.
It won’t be manufactured to become a hot bestseller,
in fact it won’t be read by you nor any other feller!

This poem’s an ice-blocked river with words jammed up inside it—
each word imbricated with a word stacked up beside it.
I just don’t have the wherewithal by which I can procure them
and turn them into poems where you might have to endure them!

 

Prompt words today are imbricate, procure, river, mentor, manufacture and unspoken. Image by Anomaly on Unsplash.

Things That Go Bump in the Night, for NaPoWriMo Day 19, 2023

16 Replies

Monster Mash

When wind howls like a banshee to fill the dark night air
and monsters lurk in closets or in creakings up the stair,
when your brother knows they’re out there––these creatures he can’t see,
when nightmares wake you up at night and you have to pee
but daren’t leave your bed in fear those creatures will come “getcha”
(all those night-born monsters that come out at night to fetch ya.)
It’s times like these when all the kids form a small tribunal
and determine that their parents’ bed should be declared communal.

A scary night poem For NaPoWri Mo

Looking Out, Looking in for dVerse Poets

26 Replies

 

 

Looking Out, Looking In

IMG_5098

 

Looking Out, Looking In

Folks look into my window every hour, every day
when they view my photographs or what I have to say.
It isn’t that I have a need to publicize or flout.
They are just a way to let a part of myself out.

When I’m outside the room of me, looking here and there,
it’s like I am a voyeur. I pry and prod and stare.
The window might steam over, obscuring what I see.
Then I wipe it clear again to see what I might be.

I really just write what I see as I’m peering in.
Each failure and each triumph, each kindness and each sin.
Each interior arrangement has some ugliness, some beauties.
I hold inside life’s pleasures, her sadness and her duties.

Each poem that I’ve written—be it whisper, be it shout––
is a way for me to let a part of myself out.
And if you choose to view them and see where I have been,
You’re standing at my window with permission to look in.

 

For dVerse Poets “Window-Gazing” prompt.

Global Warning

12 Replies

Global Warning

A yeasted dough that cannot rise higher than its leaven,
the splendid sun climbs up the sky but never reaches heaven.
Blissful nature mystery enough without religions.
Who needs holy doves when they’ve been given carrier pigeons?

Why name the mighty miracle that holds us in its clasp?
By giving it a human form, we thus reduce its grasp.
Nature is not our mother nor the universe our father.
Our presence is precarious and far below their bother.

Tough reality is what we live in day-to-day.
Born under the brutal sun and nourished by its ray,
nonetheless it does not hear us when we pray, simply because
nature only can respond to what mankind does.

Prompts today are splendid, blissful, mighty, precarious, tough and heaven.

“Nightmares,” for Wordle 601

10 Replies

Nightmares

One night out of ten I ride these ghostly horses.
They toss their heads and whinny as they take me through their courses.
They are the wandering skeletons of a bygone life
when I was a child or when I was a wife.
They remind me of my promises and break them once again,
replay all the suffering of places I have been.
They point out what I wanted and what I didn’t get,
relate every failure and recall every debt.
They nightly make me prisoner and make me walk the walk.
They bring me to my knees, my head upon the block
as my past life streams before me and I listen to the chatter
of all those bygone comments I was convinced didn’t matter.
How I dread their hoofbeats, these horses of the night,
and how glad I am they vanish with the coming of the light.

 

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 601 the prompts are: block call promise dreams stream life wandering skeletons want knees suffering listen

Not a Love Poem for NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 16

9 Replies

Not a Love Poem

This is not a love poem. I will not relate those charms
you’ve displaced from earlier boundaries to someone else’s arms.
You no longer fill my daydreams and every random thought.
I’ve cleared my mind of schemes with which it formerly was fraught.
You are not the one I reach for to fill out the night.
Not the one I quote to friends. Your wisdom I don’t cite.
I’ve ripped up all the old words and replaced them with these:
bounder and philanderer, liar, cheat and sleaze.
And now that I have located the words that better fit,
whatever is the opposite of love poem? This is it.

For NaPoWriMo today we are to write a poem that talks about what something is “not.” Image by Engin Akyurt on Unsplash.

Poet Think

3 Replies

Poet Think

The brain is a contraption that hasn’t any muscle.
It depends on other things for its schemes and hustle.
Our skull makes it impregnable by ordinary means,
but inside it’s fat, salt, water, carbohydrates and proteins.
It can be your enemy or it can be your buddy.
Sometimes it’s filled with thoughts profuse. At other times, it’s muddy.
When it plods along its movement is a bit pedestrian,
but on a good day it begins to move with speed equestrian.
Feed your brain and I am sure it will take care of you,
and if you’re lucky every day think up a poem anew!!!!

 

Prompt words today are muscle, impregnable, equestrian, profuse, mud and contraption. Image by Milad Fakuri on Unsplash.

Love’s Illusions for NaPoWriMo Apr 15, 2023

1 Reply


Love’s Illusions

I fear that my Adonis became an Achille’s heel.
His charms were an illusion. He wasn’t the real deal.
His bombastic bearing was one I could not bear.
I plumbed his deepest psyche and found it wasn’t there.

His attempts to woo and win me were perfectly rehearsed.
We were Samson and Delilah, but the ending was reversed!
I was the one who lost my head. Thank God it was not literal,
for when he sought to wield his sword, his target was just clitoral.

My romantic Odysseys give precious little peace.
At times I’ve felt like Jason, seeking the Golden Fleece.
A female Don Quixote, with endless optimism,
If I’d met Dr. Jekyll, I’d have overlooked the schism.

I’ve felt passion ignited via heroes from the telly,
but then found out that my Clark Kent turned into Machiavelli!
Bat Man became a vampire, which was most disillusioning.
So at least for the present, I swear off romantic fusioning!

 

For the NaPoWriMo prompt today, we are to think of a person – real or imagined – who has been held out to you as an example of how to be of live, but who you have always had doubts about. Write a poem that exaggerates the supposedly admirable qualities of the person in a way that exposes your doubts. Illustration by King Lip on Unsplash, Used with permission