Category Archives: Poems

Her Majesty

image courtesy of Mohammed Metri on Unsplash.


Her Majesty

She had the best instruction in how to act serene––
a necessary attribute if she would be queen.
And though she lacked true courage, at least she appeared plucky.
Daily, they assured her that of all she was most lucky
to have been born of royal blood—to have been truly chosen,
and that is how, over the years, her heart was slowly frozen.

 

The prompt words today were courage, chosen, serene and lucky. Here are their links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/05/14/rdp-tuesday-courage/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/05/14/fowc-with-fandango-chosen/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/05/14/your-daily-word-prompt-serene-may-14-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/05/13/lucky/

Confusing Near Homonyms


Confusing Near Homonyms

A meddlesome fellow is one who is bound
to mess in our business and boss us around,
while a mettlesome person is lively and gritty,
spirited, vigorous, gallant and witty.

They may be fine athletes, actors, or explorers,
but meddlesome people just tend to be borers.
Mettlesome’s interesting. Meddlesome? Deploring.
With one we’re enraptured. With the other, just snoring.

Why would a person who thinks up a word
Make opposites sound similar? It is absurd.
Mettlesome people turn out to be heroes.
They score a full ten to meddlesome’s zeroes.

Most mettlesome people please and amuse us,
but meddlesome people, by contrast, abuse us.
Considering this, our confusions suffuse us.
Was  the word mettlesome coined to confuse us?

 

mettlesome: full of vigor and stamina; lively, gritty, spirited, gallant
meddlesome: interferingmeddlingintrusivepryinginquisitiveofficious.

The prompt word today is mettlesome.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/06/rdp-wednesday-mettlesome/

Dear Donald

 

Dear Donald

Serving your own needs or colluding with the Russians
may bring Comminatory actions or other repercussions,
for though you may be pardoned for malfeasance of your diction,
we find we can’t forgive you for your constant words of fiction.

The way you won your office and your acts of dereliction
toward the country you have wronged may lead to your conviction.
What sentence might such huge acts of questionable reason
carry, let alone the sentence for your acts of treason?

You meet such accusations with rhetoric and a shrug
while cronies in high office choose to sweep them ‘neath the rug.
What do I recommend should they bring charges and convict you?
Alas, that will not happen. It’s your judges who first picked you!

Prompt words today are recommend, carry, comminatory and conviction.  Lots of c’s!!! Here are links to the sites who created those prompts.  Come play along.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/21/rdp-wednesday-recommend/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/21/fowc-with-fandango-carry/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/11/12/your-daily-word-prompt-comminatory-November-12-2018/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/21/conviction/

Human Conditions

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Human Conditions

What some see as a plank, others see as a sliver.
What starts out as a rivulet can swell into a river.
But there is a dead center closer to what’s real—
a place optimists overlook and pessimists overfeel.

Some may have solutions that others find absurd
and as a result, simply let go unheard.
But as we spend time bickering o’er who is right or wrong,
more sinister plans of nature flow rapidly along.

There’s a reason we are labeled as the human “race.”
Most problems exist because we cannot slow our pace.
We speed too quickly forward, not considering the end
of all the natural balances that we choose to bend.

The food we grow is excess and we throw away
forty percent of it, every week and day
while people starve around us. We can’t find a solution
to world hunger, extinct species, global warming or pollution.

Each plastic bag we use is the beginning of a motion
that takes it down that rivulet to river to the ocean
where it will join the others—the flip flops and the dishes
that are killing off our coral and our mollusks and our fishes.

We choke our air and wonder why we cannot breath.
Our youths lack a direction. They question and they seethe.
What choices have we left them as we export all their jobs
and give them all devices that turn them into blobs?

If there were a grand plan for ridding Mother Earth
of every single species that had a use or worth,
I think it would be planned by man and not by evolution.
Increasingly we seem to be mounting a revolution

It’s as though we’re pre-conditioned, as though we have a need
first of all, to bring an end to every other breed,
and then to do ourselves in to restore the motion
of evolution once again. To see what is her notion

of what might work the next time in building a global order
that knows its place in things without straying ‘cross the border.
Perhaps billions of years from now, nature will proudly flout
another scheme for nature that this time will work out!

The prompt words today are dead, center, rivulet and globe. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/30/rdp-tuesday-dead/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/10/30/fowc-with-fandango-center/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/10/30/agnostic/(actually, rivulet)
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/10/27/daily-addictions-2018-week-43/globe

The Pontificator

 

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The Pontificator

His ego is most copious, but alas, also fragile,
for his imagination is something less than agile.
He’s much given to adages that were coined by another:
prolific writers of the past, his preacher or his brother.
He’s not really a plagiarist. He just forgets the fact
that although he might perform it, he didn’t write the act!
His words, all gloss and polish, are lacking in much worth.
They seem to lack a kernel, though provided with much girth.
For all that they sound pretty—refined to a high gloss,
instead of rarest metal, alas, they’re merely dross.

In short, although they’re polished ’til they sparkle, glitter, gleam,
they ramble on without restraint, sadly lacking a theme.

 

The prompt words today are copious, fragile, gloss and theme. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/rdp-monday-copious
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/17/fowc-with-fandango-fragile
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/gloss/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/daily-addictions-2018-week-37/theme

 

Rude Visitor

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This year the rains came early, starting the day after the men came to begin stripping and resurfacing my roofs. The day after they were supposed to remove the skylight, hurricane-force winds and torrential rains made me glad for once, that they had been no-shows. A month later, the repairs are over and we’ve settled into the daily or nightly showers. I am snug in my house and the mountains behind me are covered with a vivid green. Soon water will be shooting in rivers down the arroyos and cobblestone roads that lead down to the lake from my house and every teja will serve as its own channel for individual rios streaming down from my roof into waterfalls that will arc down to the terrace tiles below.

The rainy season
breaks its usual habit.
A rude early guest.

For dVerse Poets.

Cerebral


An Apologia for Poesy

My gardener’s broom goes whisking light
first left, then right, then left, then right
with touch so slight I barely hear
the bristles as they take their bite.

The birds were first up and about,
and then both dogs asked to get out.
Then that broom reminded me
of one more creature left to rout.

I stir myself to go and pee,
sifting the words dreams left in me,
birthing a new poem in my head,
Until it’s written, I’m not free.

Back to bed, I find it best
to go, computer on my chest,
typing words with beat and rhyme
still ensconced in my morning nest.

Searching for ideas and words,
I use the rhythm of the birds
and Pasiano’s sweeping broom
the braying burro, the bleating herds.

Noises fill this busy world
even as I’m safely curled
still abed, my senses all
alert and ready, full unfurled.

I hear the grackle far above,
the insistent cooing of a dove,
as in the kitchen, Yolanda dons
her apron and her rubber glove.

I hear the water’s swirl and flush
the busy whipping of her brush
around each glass I might have left,
careless in my bedtime rush.

Her string mop silent, I barely know
if she’s still here. Or did she go?
I find her in the kitchen still,
arranging glasses, row on row.

It’s back to bed again I trot.
Arranging glasses I am not,
but rather words I nudge and shift
here and there until they’re caught.

Glued to the page forever more––
be they rich words, be they poor––
nevertheless, these words are mine:
poems, stories, truth or lore.

We are not slothful, lazy, weak
because it’s words we choose to seek
instead of labors more obvious
like plumber or computer geek.

Words’ labors are most harrowing.
Our choice of them needs narrowing
and not unlike the farmer’s sow,
mind’s riches we are farrowing.

So blame us not if others mop
our houses or they trim and crop
our gardens for us as we write.
From morn till night, we never stop.

As poets, we, too,  have this chore:
each day a poem, and what’s more
we never know till morning’s light
what imagination has in store.

As poets, our lives may seem effete––
not much time spent on our feet––
but those feet are busy, still,
tapping out our poem’s beat.

Cerebral though our work may be,
we are not lazy, you and me,
for though we lie in bed all day,
our writing’s labored––­­that’s plain to see!

 

Fandango‘s prompt today is cerebral. This is a rewrite of a poem written for NaPoWriMo four years ago. It is a  ruba’i, a Persian form comprised of a four-line stanza with a rhyme scheme of AABA. Robert Frost’s famous poem Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening uses this rhyme scheme. Multiple stanzas in the ruba’i form are a rubaiyat, as in The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.