Tag Archives: your daily word

Better Off Friends

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Better Off Friends

A study of your phenotype reveals that something’s missing—
a fact that I have noticed in our hugging and our kissing.
You seem not to be happy while following desire.
If you were a crematorium, they’d have to stoke your fire.
So although you are not lacking in gaiety or fun,
when it comes to sex appeal, I fear, my dear, you’ve none.

Prompt words for today are phenotype, study, crematorium, gaiety and following desire.

 

 

the set of observable characteristics of an indiv. resulting from the interaction of its genotype with the environment

On a Bench in the Park on Sadie Hawkins Day

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On a Bench in the Park on Sadie Hawkins Day

It seems there is a plethora of libidinous misses,
and with one on either side, it is a rivalry of kisses.
Their exuberance is catching. He’s handling it well,
This type of encounter is one where he’ll excel.

So many social interchanges don’t go far enough.
They’re simply superficial or blustering and bluff.
But he knew this one was different. He knew it from the start.
Communication’s different when created from the heart.

Prompt words for the day are handle, rivalry, catching, excel and creating from your heart.

Martyred by The Camino de Santiago

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Martyred by The Camino de Santiago

I’m jabbed by thorns and scratched by hay, and we have barely started.
I must say this hike you planned is not for the fainted-hearted.
I never was a nature girl, in spite of what you think.
With just this amount of moving, I’m already at the brink.

It isn’t even noon yet, and we began at dawn.
“We’ll laugh about this later,” you say as I trudge on.
As we approach the cliff face,  I worry about falling.
This mountain-climbing business is simply not my calling.

You say it’s a mere hillock, but to my exhausted eyes,
a hillock’s just a mountain in another guise.
Are we coming back this way? I ask, hoping the best,
thinking I’ll just wait here as the others mount the crest.

But alas, my hopes don’t gel. This trail leads to another.
Inside, I swear a bloody streak. Aloud, I mutter, “brother,”
as I lift my pack again and leave my comfy rock
to walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk.

When the day is finally done and in my bed I’m lying,
I am not laughing much at all, in fact, my dear, I’m crying!
I’ve grown blisters on my blisters and bruises on my bruises.
You can have your damn “Camino.” In the future, I’ll take cruises!!!

 

Word prompts for the day are: moving, laugh, jab, trudge, falling and hay.

First Child

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First Child

When it comes to good midwivery,
for sure, ease in delivery
is ranked high on performance scale.
But nonetheless, the baby’s wail
creates a pleasure so insane
that it wipes out mom’s earlier pain.

Folks question dad’s sobriety
judging from the variety 
of gifts he brings for wife and son.
A rolling pin? A bee bee gun?
A negligee? A fishing pole?
A cowboy hat? A casserole?

When he ran out of gifts to buy,
his philanthropy then went awry.
He bought the hospital a broom
purely for use within their room
lest dust and dirt from other places
land upon his loved-ones’ faces.

Once home, their baby care routine
was like a well-oiled machine
that wove through bike and hobby horse––
a toy department obstacle course.
If it’s true that chaos has its beauty,
then this young dad had done his duty

in spreading beauty wherewithin
it’s probable you’ll bark your shin
or hit your head or stub your toe––
on toys piled everywhere you go.
If you looked closely, then just maybe
you might be able to locate baby.

Stocked for life, he’s unaware
of all the loot piled in his lair.
He’s content if he is changed
and fed and cuddled, rearranged
and left to sleep the day away.
He will not see his daddy play

with all the toys he wished that he
had to play with when he was three
and  five and eight and seventeen,
when kids weren’t heard, but only seen.
Back then, it’s true, he had his pick.
His ball a stone, his bat a stick.

 

Prompt words today are variety, delivery, switch, philanthropy,  beauty in chaos.

 

Bipartite

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Bipartate

Pelted by the details of the busy world,
I lie within with half of me comfortably furled.
That flawless part that stays within, that flawed part I let out.
Trying to synchronize the two is what life is about.

 

Prompt words today are pelt, synchronize, flawless and bipartite. Also, Shining Your Light. for OctPoWriMo.

Few Regrets

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Image from front cover of Veils, Halos and Shackles : International Poetry on the Oppression and Empowerment of Women

Few Regrets

The widow’s true feelings belie her black veil,
for the eulogy prompts no tears or no wail.
She remembers his fury and his raised fist,
so his mouth and his hands will never be missed.

That sustained keen from the front of the church
comes from his mother–a black crone on her perch.
Sitting alone in the very front row,
she continues to sob and to moan and to crow.

Hers the only wet eyes, most likely because
she was the reason he was as he was.
No person comforted to ease her pain,
for all felt her loss was the wider world’s gain.

Later, at the grave site, as they commenced queueing
to pay last respects during the final viewing,
the single men agreed the corpse was a louse
and dreamed of becoming the widow’s next spouse.

Word prompts for the day are fury, eulogy, sustain and belie.

Last Dance

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Last Dance

It’s taxing my limits, this spirited dance.
I’d like to sit down if he’d give me a chance.
If I were more candid I’d say it’s enough,
but finding an opening to do so is tough.

He spins me and whirls me and then grabs my hips
as though he is plotting some aerial flips.
Ensconced in the music, he hasn’t a clue
that my hair’s come undone and I’ve only one shoe.

He seems not to notice that I’ve grown more frantic
as each new maneuver grows more corybantic.
I’m so exhausted, I fear I might drop,
and I pray for the band to finally stop.

I’m tired of following, tired of dips.
I can take no more swirls, no maneuvers or flips.
When I land on my feet, I bolt from the floor,
I retrieve my shoe and I make for the door.

I sprint down the street, and when I find my ride,
I lock all the doors once I’m safely inside.
And since that day, I’m relieved to report,
I’ve vowed to make dancing a spectator sport!

 

Prompt words for the day are tax, ensconced, corybantic and candid.

Travel Fatigue Amnesia

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Travel Fatigue Amnesia

After ten hours of driving, he felt the car swerve
as his eyelids got heavy and he lost his verve.
With an accident imminent, he pulled off the road
to turn into a Starbucks for sleep’s antipode—
a double espresso with foam and a scone.
His purchase completed, he departed alone,
but fifty miles later, he’s been heard to confess
a thought popped into mind that caused much distress.
He did a fast U turn, feeling like a louse,
and drove back to the Starbucks to retrieve his spouse.

 

Prompt words for the day are froth, imminent, purchase and verve .

Verbless

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Prompt words today are unperturbed, antipathy, quixotic and trophy.
(And, sadly, for the third day now, no prompt from The Daily Spur.)

Verbless

Today I am anything but unperturbed,
for the prompt words, I find, seem to be under-verbed.
We’re over-adjectived and over-nouned,
but is there a single verb to be found?

It’s hard to accept this sudden antipathy
displayed by prompt-sites’ crass lack of empathy
in shunning action words. I find a line
that is lacking in verbs, overly supine—

just lying there motionless, lacking in verve—
a mere trophy sentence, no guts and no nerve!
Perhaps if the Daily Spur came out of hiding,
heeding this gentle but most sincere chiding,

together, the prompt sites could conspire to curb
their Quixotic attitude towards that lost verb.
But, in the meantime, can anyone curb
my agitation by suggesting a verb????

 Image by Matt Walsh on Unsplash. Used with permission.

Forecast

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Forecast

The frugal rays of winter’s sun, sifted through the trees,
seem to have lost their power. They can’t dispel the freeze.
We watch the speckled darkness to try to find a sign
that promises the advent of a weather more benign.
The purity of winter, frigid and refined,
is melted in the heat of a summer sort of mind.
We stretch out on the beaches of our memory,
viewing with our minds that baked futurity.
Wound up in our mufflers, sealed snuggly in our gloves,
we sit on benches in the park, recalling summer loves.

 

 

Word prompts today are darkness, frugal, watch and refine.