Tag Archives: Judy Dykstra-Brown poem

Why Blog?

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Why Blog?
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If I didn’t have this blog to do, I’d probably wash the dishes
or do the other daily chores that go against my wishes.
I’d have to clean my desk off and put everything away–
tasks that more or less consume the best part of my day.
I might have to mend or clean or sweep or dust or cook.
But mainly, I’d have no excuse for putting off the book
that has been in my computer for a year or more––complete,
waiting for its formatting. Everyone I meet
asks if I have finished it, so I can just repeat
the excuse that’s easier than falling off a log.
“I’d like to but I have no time. I have to write my blog!”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Million-Dollar Question.” Why Blog?

Sealed and Sequestered

IMG_7278 (1)Sealed and Sequestered

Plenty to fill a locked-in room
with imagination to spark the gloom.
Left on my own, sequester’s blight
gives time to think and time to write.
I’d have no cause to weep and moan
if I were sealed up on my own.
Just one thing might chill my core––
if sealed up with me was the world’s worst bore!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.

Lunar Eclipse #1

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Since we also had a full Lunar Eclipse in 2014, I’m reblogging a poem I wrote for the first one. The photos are also from that eclipse.  I was able to capture the full eclipse last time, but the cloud cover prevented that this time.  I did capture it for most of its cycle, however, and you can view tonight’s pictures HERE.

                                                                     Lunar Eclipse

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Lunar Eclipse

Last night I rose to watch the full eclipse––
a blood orange moon, full in the dark night sky,
around it, scattered stars and tall palm tips.

It was as though in this world, only I
watched the last fingernail of glowing moon,
chewed at by shadow, slowly wane and die.

And then the night birds with their lonely croon
gave timbre to this darkened night soon joined
by lonely burro, braying for the moon

as though they mourned for vision now purloined
or simply sang for joy of adding to
the beauty of this dark moon newly coined.

Then once again the moon’s edge came to view.
Earth moved aside in favor of the sun
and for an hour, I watched as moonlight grew.

Then sought my bed, the pageant not yet done,
as light increased and shadow slowly waned.
Inevitably, once more light had won.

The ending known, no mystery remained.

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Our prompt today was to write a poem in terza rima, a form invented by Dante and used in The Divine Comedy. It consists of three-line stanzas, with a “chained” rhyme scheme. The first stanza is ABA, the second is BCB, the third is CDC, and so on. No particular meter is necessary, but English poets have tended to default to iambic pentameter. One common way of ending a terza rima poem is with a single line standing on its own, rhyming with the middle line of the preceding three-line stanza.

Here is a link to the pictures I took of the lunar eclipse on September 27 & 28 of 2015! https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/09/27/eclipse-of-the-blood-moon-over-mexico/

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Lost: The Ones That (Fortunately) Got Away

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Out of Reach.” Write about the one X that got away — a person, an experience, a place you wanted to visit.

Love

The one or two who got away
I’ll not call back another day;
for, compared to all the rest,
it seems I got to keep the best!


Job

Though a poetry press was up my alley,
I never saw a single galley;
for the editor did not choose me
though I thought the  job was meant to be.

I decided to go back to college
to get some other sort of knowledge.
Met the editor’s wife in my first class,
who professed her spouse to be an ass.

Art took the place of words for years,
as I happily changed gears;
for although the poetry press was hot,
it seems the editor was not!


Pounds

The pounds I lost over the years
have lived up to my greatest fears.
They decided they would all come back.
Have old home week. Rejoin the pack!

But I will not give up the fight
to try to curb my appetite.
I buy these capsules that are magic–
a spell against an outcome tragic.

Expensive?  Yes.  But worth the cost,
to keep at bay those pounds  I lost!

 

Time is a Wastrel

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Time is a Wastrel

Vagabond lover
packs his valise
and is off at a gallop–
leaving me in his wake.

Profligate seducer,
Tied to no one
except
inevitability.

Foolish, I
should have known
even I could not keep up
with fickle time.

*

I Feel Good!!!

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yes
I Feel Good!!!!

The mirror that’s in front of me shows very little gut,
and when I look behind me, I can’t even find my butt.
It’s true I am so lithe and slim that I can’t cease my looking,
for self-admiration has replaced the fun of cooking.

Gazing deeply at myself—my mesmerising eyes—
has replaced my fascination with cookies and with pies.
Time spent in the past communing with burgers and fries,
now is spent perusing my waistline and my thighs.

If you want to ask me out to pizza or to pie it,
I cannot follow either plan, in fact I must decry it.
I could not even get a date before this year-long diet,
so if it involves calories, I fear I must deny it.

It’s not that I’m objecting to a bit of her and himming.
It’s just that I prefer activity that is more slimming.
A jog perhaps or calisthenics in the local gym—
something that will keep us both toned and tight and trim?

And afterwards if you should ask me in to have a drink,
the reason that I turn you down is not what you may think.
It’s true that since my bod is fit, I don’t want to abuse it.
The problem is that I’m too tired to ever get to use it!

Picture Prompt #29

Repromptophobia

Rewriting a new poem about an old topic is my greatest phobia at the moment, so since I wrote a poem about this topic some time ago, please go HERE for my poem about my greatest phobia!

DSC09520In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Phobia, Shmobia.” Fears evolve over time. What is one fear you’ve conquered?

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!!!!

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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!

 “Your competition is not other people but the time you kill, the ill will you create, the knowledge you neglect to learn, the connections you fail to build, the health you sacrifice along the path, your inability to generate ideas, the people around you who don’t support and love your efforts, and whatever god you curse for your bad luck.”  —James Altucher

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“You’re So Lucky!”

 Too often those described as lucky
are actually only plucky.
It’s the decisions that they make
that make their lives a piece of cake.

If they have a cushy job,
far above the teeming mob,
it is because they chose to go
to college, so they made it so.

Or if they traveled after school,
when others said they were a fool,
and tell of their adventures young,
some people tend to come unstrung

and say they wish they’d had the chance
to participate in life’s wild dance
when they had the energy,
but, you know, traveling’s not free.

The truth is that most anybody
can go to college if they study
or travel anywhere they wish.
Life’s feast is a communal dish.

There is work that you can do
from Broken Hill to Timbuktu
if you are willing to do the tasks–
whatever the situation asks.

It’s true that there are places where
life is not equitable or fair–
places where a woman’s lot
keeps her chained to stove and cot,

or places where sheer poverty
limits all that you can be.
Yet  many who bemoan their fate
simply needed to leave their gate

and take the chance to see the world–
allow their lives to be unfurled.
But, lacking courage, they remained
in the place that fate ordained

was their lot in life and so
just maintained the status quo.
Many are happy where they are
and have no wish to roam afar,

but for those who moan and fuss,
saying all the luck’s with us
who have chosen to live in paradise
(and say it more than once or twice,)

I just want to say once more,
“Here is your suitcase, there’s the door.”
Luck is more often made than won,
and is, I fear, too quickly done.

So even if you’re old and gray,
do what you want to do today.
If you feel caught in the muck,
break free from it and make your luck!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Doubter’s Alert.” What commonly accepted truth (or “truth”) do you think is wrong, or at least seriously doubt?  Why?

(Photo of lucky clover downloaded from internet.)

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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!