Tag Archives: daily addictions prompt

Slashin’ Fashion

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Slashin’ Fashion

We used to think that what we wore in public really mattered.
No one wanted to appear in clothing ripped and tattered.
But now it seems the custom is to vintage-up our fashion
like it has been ripped apart in the throes of passion.

Everywhere we go, bare skin is brashly popping out
as though we can’t afford new jeans and it’s a thing to flout.
When we gain weight we do not have to buy a bigger jean,
we simply use our scissors to augment the space between!

Old men shake their heads in shock and nearly lose their dentures,
and yet these wanton ladies draw their looks as well as censures,
for when they rouge their cheeks, they do not deal with only two.
Now they have to prep  four cheeks for the world to view.

 

I worked on this poem for over an hour and when I tried to add an illustration, I lost it all!  Nowhere to be found. Nowhere in drafts.  Yes, a bit of cussing. I don’t know about you, but after I’ve written something, I forget it completely, so I had to start out again from scratch.  This time it went more quickly, though, and although it is generally the same idea, you know what they say about the one that got away!

This time I’m copying it into my sticky notes before I try to save and illustrate it.  This is the first time I haven’t done so in a long time and now I remember why I always did so! Image found on the internet.  No credits given.

The Daily Addictions prompt is augment.
The Ragtag prompt is vintage.

Sweet Tooth

22 Replies

 

Sweet Tooth

There are certain practices I’m anxious to curtail,
but I find my past attempts were to no avail.
Cookies placed before me vanish without a trace,
and if you’re toting donuts, you’d better bring your mace.
I  should eschew both cake and pie, for I cannot afford it.
So just in case you plan to share, please change your mind and hoard it!!

 

 

The Ragtag prompt today is trace.
Fandango’s prompt FOWC is curtail.
And Daily Addiction’s is afford.

Volatile

7 Replies

 

 

Volatile

As reliable as fireworks on the 4th of July,
you ignite. Over what? Who could guess?
We shield ourselves as if from floating embers,
ward off the sting for others and ourselves.
You bright shooting stars leave your aftereffects.
We, below, contend with them, 
and never fail to show up for your next grand display.

 

FOWC’s prompt is fireworks.
The Daily Addiction prompt is reliable.

Regeneration

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Regeneration

Hobbling around on the stump of a life,
nobody’s lover and nobody’s wife,
her children and grandchildren all raised and grown,
out of her life and out on their own.

Is her life over? Is it near its ending,
or has she another life that is just pending?
Has she a talent for regeneration?
Is the first sixty years mere education?

A single shoe dropped is only one shoe.
Life isn’t over until it is through.
Perhaps she’s less active removed from the past,
but wind can still fill out a sail at half mast.

The stub of a life can still get us around.
A heart can still beat and the blood can still pound.
Go after adventure for all you are worth,
for every new day is a part of your birth.

The Daily Addictions prompt is generate.

Tempering Anger

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Tempering Anger

Temper has no reason. Temper has no rhyme.
Temper keeps us agitated. Restless all the time.
If it is abundant,  we lose all control.
We can’t escape. It holds us firmly in its bowl.

Others give us wide berth, fearing what we’ll do.
They  navigate around us as we rage and stew.
The only ones who’ll meet us are others of our ilk
for whom the brew of anger is like mother’s milk.

We draw on it and fester as it sours inside.
Ire is what carries us. We mount it and we ride
off to bloody encounters, thirsty for the fray,
intent that those who anger us will be the ones who’ll pay.

We do not stop and reason, for revenge is our goal.
We don’t consider it may be ourselves who’ll pay the toll.
For other angry people, on the other side,
may have an equal anger, as tall and deep and wide.

Some causes warrant anger. When liberty is sold,
to the highest bidder, we must be strong and bold.
We might use ire to drive us, but it’s reason that must lead.
It is more easily directed, yet draws a finer bead.

The prompts today are:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/06/26/ragtag-prompt-26-navigate/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/06/26/abundant/ (Mr. Linky)https://fivedotoh.com/2018/06/26/fowc-with-fandango-temper/

Proddings

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Proddings

I guess that it took gumption to stray so far from home.
Who knows why certain people are driven so to roam?
For certain, curiosity plays a part in it—
a proclivity to action, a resistance to just sit.
A passion to be accurate in finding all their pieces.
A need for further education after school ceases.
But I can’t help but feel that there is more to it than this.
It isn’t only fearing those things that we might miss.
There’s always that small feeling that we do not belong––
that sense of isolation from the local throng.
It is a bit like pushing the odd fledgling from the nest
who does not belong. The other fledglings may know best
who would belong best elsewhere, and speed them on their way.
Odd ducks who display gumption or creative ones must pay.
And in becoming targets, they are prodded to depart
to find other places where they can make their start
to finding who they are in life—places where they can see
all those different people that they might be meant to be.

East Timor, 1973. Off on a long adventure

These word prompts were made use of in the above poem:

RagTag: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/06/16/rdp-16-target/Target
Daily Addictions:https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/: Accurate
FOWC: https://fivedotoh.com/: Gumption
Weekly Prompts: https://weeklyprompts.com/: Home

Old Age in Paradise

4 Replies

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Old Age in Paradise

I’d like to know on just what basis
we deserve our fine oasis?
In other places, other climes,
people our age have harder times.
They work ’til death or do not eat.
They toil in poverty and heat.
So though we may have aches and pain,
I must our grumbling disdain.
Yes, I ache and limp and groan,
yet prefer these problems that are my own.

 

 

The Daily Addictions prompt today was oasis.

R.I.P.

8 Replies


R.I.P.

They say he was a bastion of the community.
Of what their youth should aim for, the exact epitome.
Mothers named their kids for him and he was so discreet,
his name labelled a shopping center and a city street.

Asked to speak at graduation, his words were most succinct.
Not one old lady fell asleep. Nobody even blinked!
Moral, staunch and upright, he was everyone’s ideal.
He always used the crosswalk. He didn’t cuss or steal.

No forensic laboratory ever had a label
or test tube or fingerprint of his upon their table.
In short, his reputation was one without besmirch.
He went to each town meeting, every Sunday, went to church.

He did not exceed the speed limit, use liquor or smoke pot.
Every single vice on earth was something he was not.
His genes were the best of genes. His relatives all lasted
at least until one hundred, and he dieted and fasted.

Ate kale and probiotics, whole grains and leafy greens.
He sponsored many charities and lived within his means.
So when he died it wasn’t from alcohol or drugs.
He did not die from violence–his own or that of thugs.

He did not perish from obesity or accident or whoredom.
In the end, they say that he simply died of boredom!

For RDP prompt bastion.

and Daily Addiction’s prompt forensic

and Fandango’s is succinct.

Scuttle Rebuttal

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Scuttle Rebuttal

We scuttle between life’s different stages
like hamsters on wheels or rats running mazes.
In childhood, we cannot wait to grow up.
We wear our pants low and mutter, “Whuzzup?”
We think when we’re teenagers, we’ll really live
as childhood passes like sand through a sieve.
As teens, all our reckoning’s fixed on afar–—
that day when we’ll finally drive our dad’s car!
Then university becomes our goal,
or life in the factory or life on the dole
if school seems a prison and we want to skip
one of the stages so we can just zip
to earning a dollar and running our lives,
buzzing right through it like bees in their hives.
Milling and rushing—careening through life.
Barely a girlfriend before we’re a wife.
Driving kids one two three from this lesson to that
until we can’t reflect where exactly we’re at.
Grandpas and grandmas, then single once more.
Losing a spouse may just open a door
to a last  phase and the end of this rhyme.
A phase where, finally, we’ll take the time
to just sit and enjoy the stage that we’re in,
now that we’re retired and resting’s no sin.
Invest in a porch swing, a hammock or cat
that gives you a reason to be where you’re at
without moving or thinking of something to do.
Just sit yourself down. Scratch the cat. Eye the view.
Life’s more than a puzzle and more than a queue.
Take time to enjoy this life that you grew!!!

 

The Daily Addictions prompt today is scuttle.

Failed Honeymoon

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Failed Honeymoon

Alas, the groom’s romanticism
failed to thrive on criticism
that paired with much pedanticism,
soon led to a marital schism.
Oh, that the bride had been less callous
in revealing all her malice.
If she had been less vitriolic
and more open to honeymoon frolic,
he might have been less alcoholic.

 

The Daily Addictions prompt word today is vitriolic.