Tag Archives: Daily Post

Loving Thy Enemy

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Three years ago yesterday, I wrote an abecedarian poem for NaPoWriMo that contained today’s pompt word of “froth.”  What are the chances?  There must be some poetic synchronicity at work here.  If you don’t know what an abecedarian poem is, it is one where each word in the poem begins with a letter of the alphabet in order from a to z.  I did one poem in this manner, then wrote another  where I stated with z and went backwards through the alphabet to a, and then forward again, a to z. Give me any kind of game and I can’t resist it.  Especially word games.

 

Loving Thy Enemy

Age
becomes
creative.

Don’t ever fictionalize
great heroic intimacies.

Just keep looking
major nemeses over,
proudly quieting
rash stabbing thoughts.

Under violent words,
xenophobic
yearnings
zing.

****

Raw Savage Thoughts

Zealous young
xenophobic wanderers
veer under
the sun’s rays,
quitting promenades
over nomadic mesas.

Let’s keep jumping
into harsh green fields,
eternally delving closer
before age accents
belligerent crankiness.

Delicious effervescence
froths gushingly homeward
in jugulars,
keeping lymphatic matters
normal or palpitating,

quickening
raw savage thoughts.
Understanding vulcanizes
woman’s X-rated,
yearnful zest.

 

The prompt today is froth.

Shine

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Shine

Your smile is luminescent. It has no warmth behind it.
But for these long years with you I’ve come to barely mind it.
All day long I bask in the sunshine of another.
How can he be so different from one who is his brother?
Like the sun and moon are you, two different sorts of light.
Both bright enough to read by —one by day and one by night.
I recall the heat and passion and humor in his eyes,
as I lie with you in moonlight, waiting for the sun to rise. 

Luminescent is the prompt word today.

Rush

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Rush

Get a leg on. Hurry hurry.
Life is just a daily flurry.
Feed the cat and feed the dog.
Take your pills and write your blog.
Company’s coming. Make a curry.
Lately, life is getting blurry
from all there is I have to do:
write and clean and cook and glue.
Things pile up but I’ve no time.
Days had more hours in my prime.
But now I’m always in a rush,
caught within the daily crush.
My “to do” list has me trapped.
I crave a life that is less mapped.
I fear my rushing won’t be over
until I’m pushing up the clover!!!

The prompt today is rush.

Speechless

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Click on any photo to enlarge all.


Speechless

I’ve been thwarted in my efforts to shine at elocution,
for though I memorize the words, I flub their execution.
In short, although I’m erudite, I don’t excel at speeches.
I stammer and I blush and sweat. My words come out as screeches.

I don’t give toasts at weddings. At funerals, I am mute.
And although I am quite clever and politically astute,
you won’t find me expounding on what I think I know,
for when I seek to share my thoughts, they just advance too slow.

Even if I’ve known for years the people I’m among,
I simply do not have the gift of a silver tongue.
There are no debate trophies cluttering my shelf,
for I’m usually speechless unless talking to myself.

The prompt today is thwart.

On Strike

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On Strike

The word “inchoate” is absurd!
Does anybody use this word?
For the first time, I draw the line—
won’t use it in a poem of mine.
Guiltless in the abuse of it,
I will you all the use of it!

in·cho·ate inˈkōət,ˈinkəˌwāt/adjective: just begun and so not fully formed or developed; rudimentary.

“a still inchoate democracy”

 

The prompt today was inchoate.

Long Haul

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Sins of Omission

We’ve had a long haul, dear, with a heavy load
over a long and difficult road.
That day that you left and never came back,
the whole world you left felt stretched on the rack.
The dogs howled the moon, the horses milled ‘round.
Then everything stilled, just poised for the sound
of your homebound footsteps. We listen still.
The kids often bound to the top of the hill
looking for something. Perhaps it is you.
From sunup to sundown, we still hope to view
the sight of your figure rounding the bend
so our struggles without you can finally end.

Did you mean to leave or was it a quirk?
Were you a victim or were you a jerk?
Wherever you’ve gone to, here’s what you’re missing:
my shepherd’s pie and all of my kissing,
backrubs and whispers deep in the night,
love’s deep caresses and its sweet bite.
Selfish adventurer, it’s time to atone
for the sins you’ve amassed while off on your own.
Come home to your duty. Come home to your life.
Come home to your kids, your parents, your wife.
Your old life awaits you. Wherever you roam,
there must be a road that will lead you to home.

The prompt today is haul.

Cold Weather and the Subtle Art of Wooing

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Cold Weather and the Subtle Art of Wooing

A frozen little nose and frigid little toes
plague my teeny-bopper everywhere she goes,
for she does not cover tender little parts
when the winter comes and when the snowing starts.

Flip-flops on her feet, face naked to the air—
she seems to need to show us everything that’s there.
Little mini-skirts and a tiny cotton blouse
with nary a parka as she journeys house-to-house.

She says the weather’s nothing. She says she isn’t cold,
and she will not listen. She simply won’t be told
by her mother or her father that she should bundle up.
We try to give her mittens, hot cocoa in a cup.

Now once again she’s out of here with a new boyfriend
but without a coat or sweater to protect against the wind.
But then I see her logic. for when she subtly sneezes,
he drapes an arm around her to shield her from the breezes. 

So even though my daughter might seem naive and daft
not taking due precautions against the cold and draft,
there’s a method to her madness. She knows what she is doing.
Instead of dressing for the weather she is dressing for the wooing.

 

The WordPress prompt today is frigid.

Kitchen Chores and the Art of Divination

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The art of divination need not be limited to tea leaves. Was I scraping the bottom of the barrel or merely scraping dishes when I wrote this odd ditty three years ago?

Washing Up

The churning water brings them up.
The grounds of coffee in the cup
rise like saints to water’s top
while water runs, they do not stop.

I read their shapes like tea leaves now.
I see the future but know not how.
They swirl and change, revealing lives––
swarm like hornets from their hives.

The one I wait for comes unstuck,
careening towards his future luck.
The one that’s me caught in an eddy,
stuck for now, but holding steady.

Other remnants of finished meals––
carrot shards, potato peels––
rise up and circle, forming dreams.
Reality, or so it seems.

I see a heart and charm and lies,
a future lover in disguise,
a plane, a knoll, a tree-lined path,
a woman bound in senseless wrath.

She sends out waves that push you here––
the very thing that she most fears.
I know not who or where you are.
Are you near or are you far?

As all goes rushing down the drain,
I feel a sense of loss and pain.
And so I fill the sink again.
Will I see you one time more,
or was my vision only lore?

The prompt today was churn.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 3: “Explorers”

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Explorers

When the first man dipped his oar,
entering geographic lore
to journey out to some new shore,
he opened up a certain door
that has been open evermore—
that need for mankind to explore.

The current’s swell, the ocean’s roar
has entered into every pore
and permeated to the core
that man who is adventure’s whore.
Each journey craves a new encore.
Each return one leave-taking more.

When Viking wanderers of yore
set sail, their fortunes to restore,
and shield and sword to battle wore,
staying in place became a chore.
Mankind was meant to sail and soar.
The journey is what life is for.

 

For NaPoWiMo 2018, Day 3
The WordPress prompt word today is explore.

Love Letter to Estrella

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Love Letter to Estrella

If they were to make a gradient
between dull and radiant,
the scale for brilliance, it is true,
would have to culminate with you.
In both countenance and mind,
I could never ever find
such a shining, clever soul
who could begin to fill the role
you have been cast to in my life.
Your clever wit cuts like a knife
through the toughest, dullest day.
Your brilliance takes shadows away—
bans them to the corners where
they’re safe to gather, for you’re not there.
My dear, if you had any betters,
life would be full of love letters,
but since I find you’re without peer,
it’s only you that I call dear.

 

The Word Press prompt word today is radiant.