Category Archives: Poem

Grandma’s Birthday Confessions (For Sunday Whirl Wordle 620)

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This might have been a better choice for Grandma’s Birthday Cake.

Grandma’s Birthday Confessions

A trick of fate has caused my skin to rumple, thin and bruise.
My limbs are merely spindles and my breasts simply refuse
to remain in their stations!  My locks once shiny gold
have dimmed to dullest silver, thus making me look old!
Of late, I find the edges of things have grown less clear.
I bump myself on door frames and on table tops. I fear
I may have a slight problem with my peripheral vision
which upon occasion has created much derision
on the part of youngsters, whose laughter, I suppose
has something to do with the lipstick on my nose.
And if you wonder why my bangs are so oddly fringed,
please don’t blame my hair stylist. I fear that they were singed
when I tried to blow the candles out on my birthday cake.
Who knew they’d use one candle for each year, for heaven’s sake?

The words for Sunday Whirl Wordle 620 were: late edge spindle skin rumple  fate trick slight singe dim limb

Back-fence Whispers: For Wordle 619

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Back-fence Whispers

Since I heard the rumors that my love is leaving,
unproven fears extend their claws and set my heart to grieving.
Still fluid memories of our love rush in to calm my mind,
shoring up belief that he’s not the roaming kind.

Still, those hurtful whispers breathed behind cupped hands
warn me that he’ll soon be off to foreign lands.
Thus, I sit and worry about what the truth may be.
Which love has he chosen? Is it the world or me?

 

The words today are hurt heard whispers since roams clawing rush still fluid grieving shore breathe  : for the Sunday Whirl  Wordle 619  Image by Ben White on Unsplash.

Locked and Unlocked for FOWC

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Is it kosher to reblog this poem, “Locked and Unlocked” from four years ago? Here it is. Please click on the link:  https://judydykstrabrown.com/2016/04/21/locked-and-unlocked/
Ironic that I just had my hair-grown long all cut off today. This is a poem in honor of both that and the prompt!

For FOWC: Locked

Wallflower: Three Things Challenge #444

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Wallflower

You think I cannot see you behind your curtain blind,
hiding in the shadows. You are the cautious kind.
You drape yourself in darkness, thinking I will not see,
but still the colors of your soul come shining out at me.

Step forward to the lightness. There is no danger here.
There is at least one person who bids you to come near.
Whether bad or good will come from joining life’s mad dance,
you will never know until you choose to take the chance.

The three words for the Three Things Challenge  #444this week are: CURTAIN DRAPE BLIND
Image by Susan Flores on Unsplash.

S.O.S.: For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 618

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S.O.S

Debris that’s caught up by the wind swells and rips and surges,
then falls to blanket ponds and fields and fill up roadside verges.
We trace its patterns in the woods, caught up along the trail.
We try to overlook it in the passing, but we fail.

It rolls down meadow pathways formerly pristine.
We trace its ugly progress through every canyon scene—
in a plastic bag’s graffiti plastered to a cavern wall.
Who will come to rescue our world before its fall?

Is any wiser culture listening for the call
from out there in the Universe, far from this spinning ball
that we are all trapped on, choking in the air
created by our progress, as we strip it bare?

 

The Sunday Whirl  Wordle 618 prompts today are: call, trace, rescue, debris, wind, swell, rip, surge, pass, rolls, trail, woods

Mutability: For W3 prompt

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Mutability

It
is life.
We can’t fight
the truth that we
were born to those rules
that return us to soil
from whence we have been lifted 
time after time, metamorphosed
from light to shadow, from breath to wind,
to rise and fall in some eternal plan 
we have no chart for except for what we see
in ripening grain and bread upon the table,
oceans raised into the air to fall as springtime rain.
Why can’t we see
we can’t control
our universe
but instead fall
like autumn leaves
down to the earth?

 

The above  poem was written to this prompt: Write a poem in “Tree of Life” poetic form about changes, impermanence, and strength.
‘Tree of Life’ poetic form:

  • An uplifting poem in 19 lines;
  • Syllabic: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-4-4-4-4-4-4;
  • Unrhymed;
  • Alignment: Centered

The Zen of Fear

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The farther up the mountain we went, the smaller the road became. I was on the outside and for most of the way the drop was severe–with no siderails or walls or shoulders. Vertigo? Yes.

The Zen of Fear

I don’t know what’s in front of me,
can’t  recall what’s in the rear.
Don’t know if I should run full force
or if I should veer.

I guess I will just take what comes
and enjoy the ride.
Life is so much better spent
with fears all set aside.

The Pensivity Three Things Challenge prompt today is Front, Rear, Aside.

Postscript:

Forgottenman says I should include our Skype conversation that took place between my writing of this poem and its posting, so here goes:

Judy, 11:54 PM: what should I name the poem I’m about to post? Yeah I know yer drunk, but you do some of your best thinking in that condition!  ;o)
Forgottenman, 11:56 PM: Heh, yep. I’m thinking! My first drunken thought is The Zen of Fear.
Forgottenman: 12:01 AM: Wow – you actually titled it that!
Judy, 12:01 AM: Well I always do.  I used the title you suggested yesterday, too! It was a good title.  I could write poems all day long but I am usually stymied by the titles. I still don’t have a title for my Ethiopia book after twenty years!!!!! Can’t finish and publish it until I do.

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 617

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True Confessions

Drag your dreams to paper.
Slam them on the page.
Let loose your bones of worry.
Release your screams of rage.

With all your senses humming,
drive away each care
by sharing it with all the world.
Be truthful if you dare.

Nonsensical or rational,
each fresh fear that you share
will drive your worries all away,
so tell us if you dare,

what secrets you have left to tell.
Run every dread fear by us.
If you need an audience
take a chance and try us!

For Wordle 617 the words are: nonsensical drive left humming fresh loose bones slam run paper dream drag

Hummingbird, for RDP

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For RDP: Hum

Ode to Avolition

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Image by Kenny Zhang on Unsplash.

 

Ode to Avolition

Those lacking in expedition
are victims of avolition.
Opposite of blind ambition,
slingshot with no ammunition,
no task brought to its fruition.

Old stories with no new edition,
goals lacking ample nutrition
sink into utter perdition,
prompting purpose’s sedition,
birthing lethargy’s tradition.

What prompted this poem written at 4 a.m.this morning?  This Skype conversation with Forgottenman.  I woke up at 1 a.m. after 4 hours sleep.  He was still awake, thus a three hour conversation that included these lines:

Judy: Are you ever playing your guitar?
Forgottenman,03:19 AM
No. Still haven’t replaced the broken string.
Judy: 03:19 AM
Do you have a set of strings or need to buy them?
Forgottenman, 03:20 AM
I have 2 sets of new strings. Just … I don’t know.
03:21 AM
Judy: You don’t know where they are or don’t know why you don’t restring it?
Forgottenman, 03:22 AM

The new strings are right there. I just can’t. I might be this. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avolition

Avolition, as a symptom of various forms of psychopathology, is the decrease in the ability to initiate and persist in self-directed purposeful activities.[1] Such activities that appear to be neglected usually include routine activities, including hobbies, going to work and/or school, and most notably, engaging in social activities. A person experiencing avolition may stay at home for long periods of time, rather than seeking out work or peer relations.

Thanks for the prompt, Forgottenman, unintentional as it was. Couldn’t fall asleep until I practiced the opposite of avolition, resulting in this poem.

And, why not just link with dVerse Poets??? HI, Guys. Missed the live reading, but…just a case of avolition!!!

And here is the regular link to dVerse Poets.