Category Archives: Poems

Root-a-toot-toot (Appetite)

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “These Horns Were Made for Tooting.”Today, share something you love about yourself  — don’t be shy, be confident! — but that few other people know about you or get to see very often.

I don’t have very much patience for submitting poems for publication or entering contests or trying to find agents or publishers. I’ve played the games at times but it never seemed worth the time spent. One exception was when I decided to enter a number of contests at once. I believe I entered ten, but it may have been less. Rejection after rejection came in. There were a few near-misses where I was a semifinalist. Then, the last letter came in and lo and behold, I had won first place in a national poetry contest. My notification was accompanied by a check for $500! The judge’s comment included the statement that she had awarded me the prize for my sheer audacity in submitting a poem that took twelve minutes to read. Ha. Here is the poem. I will grant a special prize to anyone who makes it to the end! (I believe this is a shortened version of the poem I submitted.)

appetite for blog JPGappetite for blog pg 2JPGappetitep3 pJPG

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Serpentine

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Last night I was talking to okcforgottenman in between posting pictures for the selfies prompt.  He first said it didn’t sound very much like a prompt I would pursue, then advised me on which pictures seemed too staged (Yes, I removed them), and in the end suggested I add the picture of my shadow on a beach studded with jellyfish.  That was a good suggestion and I posted my blog, then noticed that it was 3 a.m.!!!

This chain of events is not unusual, for I rarely try to go to sleep before 2 or 3 and sometimes even later (earlier?) but for some reason, I am always surprised at the hour.  I think I said something like, “How did it get to be 3 a.m.?”  Forgottenman answered, “Time is a snake,” and for once I was the one who said that would make a good prompt.  Of course he agreed and issued the challenge, so here is my poem on the subject, which is not at all as original as his, which I have read.  He’s now polishing it.  Well, actually, he’s now out mowing his lawn but thinking about polishing it.  I’ll give him 24 hours and then I’m posting with or without him.  It is 3:30 p.m., September 12, 2015.  I’m giving you fair warning, okcforgottenman!!!!

YaxchilanDivineSerpent
Yaxchilan Divine Serpent

Serpentine

Time is a snake coiled in the dark–
ready to strike, eyes on its mark.
In the sun of youth, the snake may laze
in torpor from the day’s long rays.

If it moves slowly you may not see
time progressing from A to Z,
but as you grow older, it builds up speed,
spurred onward by the urge to feed.

The snake uncoils and starts its race.
Sensing this, you join the chase.
Your goal is what you’re meant to do,
while the serpent’s goal is only you.

With luck, you are still in your prime
when you run your race pursued by time.
For later, fatigue stakes its coup
and you slow until time catches you.

Then it coils gently around your head
in hammock, easy chair or bed.
Its pulsing gyre steals you away–
that final price that life must pay.

See okcforgottenman’s poem written to this same prompt  HERE.

We invite you all to write to this same prompt.  If you do, please send a link to both of us!

IMG_4795The Old and Unrested

The old and unrested return to their beds,
propping their pillows under their heads.
Pulling their blankets up to their ears,
they let up on the gas and go into low gears.

Setting their brandies or porters or gins
on their bedside tables, they settle their chins
upon their chests and watch some TV
on laptops that sit where their boobs used to be.

Life is confusing when you are too near it,
especially ’cause it is so damn hard to hear it.
Then when you’re alone, it’s entirely too loud.
These neighborhood noises should not be allowed!

They turn up the volume to drown out the noise
of the car alarms, weed eaters and screaming boys.
They lie all morning, secure in their beds.
Life is much easier lived in their heads!

Before the protests start to roll in, I have to say that this is meant in fun.  I was feeling contrary In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Young and the Rested:” When was the last time you felt truly rejuvenated and energized? What made you feel that way?

No.  I never ever drink gin in the morning.  Hardly ever.

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The Prompt: Mouth Drop: Creatively describe one moment when your mouth dropped open, chin hit the ground, and tears rolled down your face!

Drop Jaw

Embarrassment or joy or mace
might cause tears to flood your face,
but did you ever really see
someone’s jaw down on his knee,
much less his chin upon the floor?
This feat seems like senseless lore.
So surely you can clearly see,
this prompt is pure hyperbole!

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Sound Bites

When the daylight takes its bite
eating up the dark of night
I begin my daily rite
of finding all the words to cite
that serve to bring my thoughts to light.

I write and write and write and write–
filling up my blogging site
until my dogs begin to fight,
and finally I know it’s quite
necessary to do what’s right.

And this is when I find I might
secure my laptop lid up tight
and give my brain a small respite.
It is my  second day’s delight
for they have tried to be polite

lest they disturb me or incite
words that in their haste are trite.
With an open door, I now invite
their appetites–now at their height.
Each jumps and spins–high as a kite,
and comes to have his morning bite.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Forward Drive.” https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/09/04/from-the-back-a-photo-a-week-challenge/ What is the one thing that drives you to wake up in the morning and do whatever it is you do? Is it writing, family, friends, or something else entirely?

Reading

The book I’ve chosen for the plane ride
sits open on my lap
as the stranger on the plane
opens himself—
his life pulled leaf by leaf from his family tree.
His words come faltering and sputtering at first,
like water from a tap newly opened,
then rush out cool and even,
telling of a life that is a richness
of jobs held, wives loved, children raised.

He is going back to Mexico for the saints day
of the small pueblo where he was born.
The parade. The effigies. The life-sized santos
standing in their boats to tour the lake like kings.
I’ve been to this celebration; and as he speaks,
I sit like an honored guest beside him,
reading my memory as well

“Come,“ he tells me, giving me directions and a date.
I do not tell him I have been to that fiesta years ago.
“Perhaps,” I say, sliding his instructions to his family’s house
to form a bookmark in the book now closed upon my lap,
then go on, listening.

What were we born for
if it was not to read each other?

In the rush from the plane, that old man falls behind
and it is you I see as I come out into the world of Mexico,
leaving the plane ride, immigration and customs
in its place behind the swinging doors.
This flower that you give me is a mystery book.
I read it—stamen, pistil and corolla—
as well as the hand that holds it out to me
and then the warm embrace that you enfold me in.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Middle Seat.” It turns out that your neighbor on the plane/bus/train (or the person sitting at the next table at the coffee shop) is a very, very chatty tourist. Do you try to switch seats, go for a non-committal brief small talk, or make this person your new best friend?

The Dating Game

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The Dating Game

The prompt I generated on JNW’s Prompt Generator was: “tender opportunity.” I hit the generator button again and got “repulsive industry,” When I saw both prompts together, a perfect topic came  to mind. These prompts, in tandem, seemed to describe the two sides of the online social-introduction industry perfectly, so I decided to try to use both prompts. Although this poem sounds a bit bitter, it is really meant tongue-in-cheek as the first phrase was tweaked a bit by the second. I’ve met some really nice guys in the past six years I’ve been on social sites, but just none where both of us wanted to make it permanent.

In the past couple of years, OKC has changed a lot and doesn’t seem to be the special place it once was. They’ve taken away journals, forums, awards, search engines and erased the first few years of information. I’ve pretty much replaced it with blogging, which seems to work better for really getting to know people and the focus has changed from searching for love in all the wrong places to forming real bonds with words, not faces. A few good friends have even followed me from OKC. You know who you are. Here is my little ditty on the subject of the two prompts mentioned above:

When I Joined OkCupid

I considered it to be
a tender opportunity.
Instead I fear it just became
a sort of endless dating game.

Crabby grandpas, lying spouses,
hermits shut up in their houses,
voyeurs looking for a thrill,
twenty-somethings with time to kill.

Men who say they want to talk
who, when asked questions, merely balk.
Whatever it claims to be,
It’s a repulsive industry—

a place that doesn’t want to match us
but rather just to try to catch us
in a web of constant circulation–
a type of lovelorn masturbation.

Years later, I’ve made special friends
and yet the cycle never ends.
Though I’d like love with every fiber,
I fear my love life remains cyber.

 *

The Proposal

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    Owen “Beleaguered” Servant provided this quote for my next poetry prompt:
    “How quick come the reasons for approving what we like.” – Jane Austen

    The Proposal

    How did you make your way into my heart?
    Quick, tell the answer before we next part.
    Come into my comfort, then comfort me back.
    The way of the pair beats the way of the pack.
    Reasons are given for all that we do–
    For the ways that we love and the ways that we woo.
    Approving my actions in loving you is
    What wins you my love and wins you this kiss.
    We swear to each other that we will be true
    Like all the lovers in storybooks do.

    Like brides and their bridegrooms and lieges and kings,
    We shall swear our obeisance and seal it with rings.
    What others have done is what we will do.
    Approving tradition will make one of two.
    For the rest of our lives, if they revile and chide us,
    Reason’s not the only thing that will guide us.
    The love we keep strong will keep us together.
    Come be my steed, and I’ll be thy tether.
    Quick, take my hand and give me thy pledge.
    How we’ll kiss in the meadow and roll in the sedge.

    (Judy’s note: If you haven’t already noticed, please look for the quote within the poem.
    Actually, it is repeated twice. Hint: Look at the bold words.)

    Listen to the Babe was the person who invited me to do this three-part prompt.  See her blog HERE.

Stronger

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Stronger

“That which does not kill us makes us stronger”.

I wish that when it didn’t kill me it had made me stronger,
for I don’t know if I can hold this lion’s mouth closed much longer.

 

Tina, The Bo Bina provided this favorite quote for me to use as the prompt for a poem.Go see her website as well!

 At Fourteen

There is a whole world out there and you’ll see it soon enough.
It is the world inside of you you’ll find especially rough.
Try to write about it, and try to tell the truth
about the things that happen that you find uncouth.

Write about what hurts you, and hurts that you have done–
all those shadows in you brought into the sun.
Ask those around you why they act in ways that might seem cruel
and try to live your own life by the golden rule.

Take chances and do not be cowed when you achieve less
than what you might have hoped for, and when you’re wrong, confess.
Don’t just do what your friends do. Don’t act before you think.
However strange the ones around you, try to find a link.

The world has enough meanness. Try not to add to it.
Try harder in environments where you seem not to fit.
People who are petty will cut you like a knife,
but the chances that you take will be what will make your life.

Other people’s rules pinch like a too-small shoe,
so don’t let other people dictate what you do.
Do not fear to step aside and go out on your own.
The fields that yield the sweetest crop are those that you have sown.

Post this advice up on your wall and read it now and then.
Use it as a means to reassess where you have been.
Then when you are older, and your life grows thin,
do what I am doing now. Consider it again.

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “From You to You.” Write a letter to your 14-year-old self. Tomorrow, write a letter to yourself in 20 years.