Homecoming
All rivers led away from home, each highway, path and plane,
but little did I know that I would be led back again.
Memories pressed upon the page like flowers in a book.
Every story, every poem records a backwards look.
The prompt by dVerse Poets is to write a poem based on this amazing painting by Lee Madgwick. See her other paintings here: leemadgwick.co.uk.
See other poems written to this promt HERE.
Wishful thinking.
Jam and Toast for Dinner
She could not stand to touch a worm,
for squiggly things just made her squirm,
and so she cast a naked hook
into the waters of the brook.
You might have guessed she was not able
to provide protein for our table,
thus proving that old axiom
forgotten by our squeamish mom.
“When you go out fishing, best do it by the book.
No one ever caught a fish with an unbaited hook.”
For the dVerse Poets prompt: aphorisms.
I believe this is a new aphorism to add to your list!
“Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.”
Love Lost, Love Gained
Since my true love just up and left,
there’s no relief. I am bereft.
No matter how much I expound,
help is nowhere to be found.
Come, wipe the memory of his face.
Let, then, a new love take its place.
“Us” bleached out from my memory,
kiss wiped so a new kiss may be,
and so forsake this moan and vetting.
Part of love lies in forgetting.
For the dVerse Poets prompt, we were to take one of the given lines and to make a poem of it, using each word of the line, in order, as the the beginning word in each line of our poem. The the line I chose precedes the poem: “Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.”
For dVerse Poets
To see other poems written to this prompt, go HERE.
Morning Chorus
Morning opens one eyelid,
casting eyelash shadows
across the terraza.
The small dog whines a greeting
as the dogwalker opens the garden gate.
Tap tap of woodpecker in the tallest palm.
Echo of church bells.
Only the first sunrays
silent in this early morn.
For dVerse Poets
HERE is the prompt.
The Real Dirt
Dirt has had, since its inception,
an unfair place in our conception—
a thing for us to rail against
and throw the laundry pail against.
Dirty thoughts are seen as rude,
and yet dirt grows our daily food.
Without it, we would flail and totter.
Impossible to walk on water!
Just had to repost this poem from four years ago for the dVerse Poets prompt. You can find it here: dVerse Poets
To read other poems on this topic, go HERE.
Couldn’t resist reblogging this for the dVerse Poets Restaurant Prompt.
The Prompt today was to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word.
“Dining Alone at the Maria Bonita Restaurant Bar”
Smoldering.
Señor Garcia is smoking today.
Below him,
Maria Phoenix lies on satin sheets
on the wall of Maria Bonita Restaurant Bar.
It is a small palapa restaurant––soft orange front with
hot pink trim–– that I’ve driven by hundreds of times before;
and every time, I’ve wanted to come in, but haven’t.
Now today, suddenly,
I don’t want to go home
and so my car turns in across the carretera.
I am the lone customer.
The cook and waiter
spring to action.
Totopos for him to bring,
a fire for her to light.
This is a fish restaurant
and I am a non-fish
eater, choosing between
quesadillas and beans
or a hamburger and fries.
Needless to say, I’m not here for the food.
I am…
View original post 487 more words
Election Year Blues
This is nuts!
No ands or buts.
Change is brewing,
voters stewing.
Economic crunch,
most of the bunch
Half-Baked choices,
crazy voices.
Urban jumble
about to crumble.
The Yellow Brick Road
Soon to erode.
A Dastardly Mash
of rich guys’ cash
Make Rocky Roads
of mother lodes.
Cool Britannia
wins the day
as the rest of Earth
Just melts away!
For dVerse Poets Ben & Jerry prompt. The italicized words above are all Ben & Jerry flavors and yes, I admit I sneaked in one non-B&J flavor as well!!! Plus, changed the rhyme scheme in the last stanza. I should run for public office, changing the rules like that!!!
Here are the flavor choices:
Change is Brewing – current
Half-Baked – created in 2000 -still going strong
Urban Bourbon – 2017 -still going strong
Coffee Coffee Buzzbuzzbuzz – current
Wavy Gravy – 1993 – 2001
Urban Jumble – 2000 -2001
Dastardly Mash – 1979 – 1991
Miz Jelena’s Sweet Potato Pie – 1992 – 1993
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road – limited edition available July 18 to 25, 2008
Late Night Snack – 2010 – 2014
Imagine Whirled Peace – 2007 – 2013
Sugar Plum – 1989 – 1990
Cool Britannia – 1995 – 1998
Economic Crunch – only in 1987 during the stock market crash
This is Nuts 2001 – 2002
To see other posts that feature Ben & Jerry flavors, go HERE.
Individuality
What you want for me to be
subtracts from “I’ to add to “we,”
and yet it does not set me free,
but traps me in normality.
You will not hear me make a plea
for rules of set society.
I simply choose to take the knee
and insist on being me.
For dVerse Poets: Peer Pressure. Image by Vlad Hilitanu on Unsplash
Impressionable Dozer
The whole house is sleeping—the dogs and the cats
on the chair and the sofa and their cushy mats.
Even the air seems stilled in its rush.
I am calmed by its torpor and lulled by its hush.
Although there are labors I know I should do,
I survey my agenda and plan it anew.
It’s hot in my bedroom, but the sofa looks nice.
I go to the kitchen for water and ice.
Then I grab my computer and spread myself out.
With no one to disturb, as there’s no one about,
I may nod off myself before long, but I hope
that I’ll finish this first, but as you can see…..
Nope.
The dVerse Poets prompt today is to write a Quadrille on the topic of sleep. Ironically, just before looking up the prompt, I had just taken the above photos and was thinking of writing about exactly that topic. Thus, this poem that half-fills the bill. Not a quadrille, but I really did fall asleep before finishing it so I should get double points for succumbing that fully to the prompt..
Now, guess where I am headed?
Cold
Furniture leaves stick by stick.
His cold furnishings in the storehouse
while I put away my feelings
one by one.
He suggests we still be friends
while we wait for new friends to happen,
as though he’s drawing closer
as he pulls away.
I keep creeping closer to the truth
that lies
in eyes
cold.
Cold
eyes,
nothing written there.
His hand edges closer
on the seat between us.
Like a deaf-mute,
all communication
in his hands.
But those hands
don’t know all
my languages.
Handless bodies
in El Salvador
might think
my demands on them
less foolish.
My mother’s hands
drumming fingers
while she told a sleepy tale.
I was always in it,
in dark forests where the bears lived,
and although she acted
like she didn’t know it,
I was in the forest, lost,
expecting bears
while only drumming fingers
foretold the presence
of something
cold.
For dVerse Poets
To see the prompt, “A Little Repetition,” go HERE.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 