in the night sky
out of reach
You are lost to me
sliding through the black
I watch your path
through the speckled
gravity of your being
pulling stars in its wake
in the sky
NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #22 – take a statement about impossible things and write a poem in which they occur. I used the saying: “The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky.”
The field a restless sea
yellow and white blooms
swirling in eddies
bobbing their delicate heads
with the setting of the sun
sigh to the fading light
against the winds
in the language of longing
NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #21 – writing a poem based upon the myth of Narcissus.
A sharp elbow in the gut
diving for the ball,
volleyball with amateurs.
NOTE: I struggled a bit with the Day 20 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to be rebellious and break a rule. In any case, here’s my reverse haiku.
We exist in the footprints of gods
who walked this earth as giants
shaping valley, gorge, canyon, and lake
with each step of their mighty feet.
NOTE: This short poem was inspired by a photo prompt on the Suzanne Olivante Poetry blog. Image source is from here.
Is the image something beautiful or lost amidst forgotten dreams
Silently gliding through the unknown, seeking, daring, listing
Memories are fleeting things, darkness, flash, and glow
The riverbed is winding, pathway for the soul
Guardians line the shore protecting every bend
Against the boat that carries them to their final beds
Mists that float and fly away without a second thought
I’ve forgotten the way; I cannot follow beyond this gentle pass
For the source poem, please see By the Stream by Paul Laurence Dunbar.
NOTE: This poem is inspired by the Day 18 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write a revision/response poem based upon an existing piece. For the instructions, see the full blog post here.
on the importance of beer
one sunny day,
many years ago,
while water skiing on the lake
Grandpa started to sink
beneath the surface,
somehow managing to keep
his beer from spilling,
yet allowing his dentures
to sink into the seaweed garden below
NOTE: This poem is inspired by the Day 17 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write a poem re-telling a family anecdote that has stuck with you over time.
It’s 2 a.m.
smoke fills the air
in this sound-proof basement
she sways to her own music
singing, rewriting lyrics,
to an old Five Satins song
In the chill of the night
the motley boys behind her
strum guitars, patter at drums,
and one lonely saxophone blows tenor,
lending a hint of blues to the mood
I caught you and held you tight
an accent tints her voice
altering from thick whiskey on the rocks
to something almost…Transylvanian?
her lips curve the words into a playful smile
‘Cause I needed…just one bite
she curls her fingers, lunging
pretending that she is vampire and I prey
when she invites me, I sing with them
a pre-pubescent voice struggling to match her
Later, I remember how I lived
for these moments, center of her
spotlight sun – smiling, tragic, beautiful, wild
living life with arms outstretched – more sister
than mother, a grown woman
she never stopped playing
NOTE: This is poem is inspired by the Day 16 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write a poem that prominently features the idea of play.
The Tragedy of Being a Villain
One sometimes wonders
what leads a villain down the path
of being miserable and evil.
Is it a simple turning point
or something more?
Would the Evil Queen
have been quite so vile
if when asking her mirror the fateful question
it had simply fallen from the wall
have been so malicious
if her invitation to the grand celebration
had been sent and not simply
Would the Sea Witch
have been so devious
if she hadn’t been banished from the kingdom
and instead given a seat at least
near to the throne?
Would the Wicked Witch
have been so vindictive
had someone not committed larceny
and murder against her sister
with a house?
What turning point
would it take,
for a hero to simply become
The Rowboat of Your Dreams
Row, Row, Row
Unless your boat is on the land
A boat without water is like a train with no track
Perhaps you are on the wrong path?
Row, Row, Row
Unless your boat has no oars
A boat with no oars is like a car with no gas
You must lack the proper tools to move forward.
Row, Row, Row
Unless your boat has but one oar
A rowboat with one oar cannot be a canoe
Repeating the same action will not get a different result.
Row, Row, Row
Unless you are moving against the waves
The current is flowing opposite your direction
Perhaps you are trying too hard to get where you want to go?
Row, Row, Row
Alas, you have water, good weather, and two oars
Gliding forward with positive momentum
You must be on the right path!
Note: This poem is inspired by the prompt for Day 14, from NaPoWriMo.net – to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary.
The nonsense of words selected for a spelling bee…
The GOVERNOR is a DYSFUNCTIONAL
CURMUDGEON who QUAFFS KEROSENE.
The RESURRECTION of PLEBEIAN concerns
leads to a QUOTIDIAN discussion on
childcare and the MORTGAGE.
A state of HYPERPYREXIA
gives the EFFERVESCENT sensation
of donning a MONOCLE
more OPAQUE than clear.
My LIEGE suffers from LARYNGITIS,
therefore I shall ACQUIESCE to his request
and REGURGITATE his speech
as I have heard it read before.
The SABOTEUR could not believe his luck
When SERENDIPITY revealed to him
the beauty of time-released explosives
delivered by SUBCUTANEOUS injections.
NOTE: This poem is nothing more than a challenge from my writing group to use the words from our recent spelling bee fundraiser in a piece of writing – hence the title. Also, I’m sorry!