POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

INFORM POETS – RUBAI (INTERLOCKING RUBAIYAT)

We are exploring the Rubai this week (also known as the interlocking rubaiyat)

I’m sure you have some familiarity with the 12th-century Persian work, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. It uses the Rubai. Another surprising usage of the rubai, is highlighted by one of Robert Frost’s well known poems (“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”.)

 

The rules of the (rubai) interlocking rubaiyat:

  • The poem is consits of quatrains following an aaba rhyme pattern.
  • The succeeding quatrain picks up the unrhymed line from the previous stanza as the rhyme for the new quatrain. A three-stanza rubaiyat might rhyme so: aaba/bbcb/ccdc. Sometimes the final stanza rhymes all four lines.
  • Lines are usually tetrameter and pentameter.

SARA’S INTERLOCKING RUBAIYAT:

BEACH PAINTING

Alone, this beach deserted now
for winter’s taken its first bow,
omen for geese to begin flight.
Alluring without sounds of crowds.

Wind whips sand, and lone kite;
my eyes watch route ‘til out of sight.
A sting of salt assaults my lips.
Ocean sparkles in brilliant light.

A mist drifts ‘cross my fingertips,
today my toes will not be dipped.
I can throw my ams in the air,
and shout to every gull and ship.

A freeness overtakes me here.
My mind empties of all life’s cares.
Expanse of vastness humbles me,
a brush stroke in this art we share.

 

WALTER’S RUBAI:

MOONLIT DREAMS

There she stood in the shadow of night
where the moon was big and roundly bright,
and there she was wishing on a star,
a reflection of the evening’s light.

It was seven years beyond the bar,
she traveled long and she traveled far,
her journey began within her heart
but the pain of leaving left a scar.

And so she dreamed of a fresh new start,
she couldn’t stand to remain apart,
but reality comes not from dreams,
her wish in sadness did impart.

So in the shadows the moonlight beams,
a love once bursting at the seams
was not the love that lived in dreams,
was not the love that lived in dreams!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

 

PROMPT #196 – SEALED WITH A KISS

The song of the same name by Bryan Hyland has a lyric, “I don’t want to say goodbye  for the summer…” And during this past week, we did just that. We’ve entered the Autumnal Equinox and are free to embrace the fall season. But it does come with a tinge of sadness. Saying goodbye will do that! So, confront those feelings and write  a “Saying Goodbye to_______” poem. Maybe it will provide a bit of comfort. 

SARA’S AU REVOIR:

SAYING GOODBYE TO YOUTH

Inside my head, dwells
a young woman–impatient,
rebellious, sexual. In dreams,
this same woman appears,
parents alive and well, life
chaotic, never quite finding
her way. Spend a period
of time in my imagination.
View world through a kaleidoscope,
hear a calliope, become
a cartoon character. How do
I reconcile what I am to what I see
when I look at me? Inside my head
anything is possible; everything is fun.

 

WALT’S FAREWELL:

SAYING GOODBYE TO FALSE HOPE

No one wants to say goodbye.
We cry and forget any stiff upper lip.
Searching for a sliver of expectation
that a sad situation can be averted.
It has been asserted that eventuality
is on course, but some choose to divorce
themselves from that inherent reality.
Hope may spring eternal, but living forever
is not an offered option. You are cursed
if you expect the best and hope
the worst is a vicious lie, when the best is just
an extended suffering. The only buffering
between birth and death is life itself.
Our times will all come, some sooner
than the rest. The best thing to do
is face it with courage and love.
You can’t live on false hope.
It’s best to live fully by duly coping
with our inevitability without fear.
 
 
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

INFORM POETS – NAANI

We’re having another go with the poetic form NAANI.

The NAANI is one of India’s most popular Telugu forms introduced by poet Dr. N. Gopi,  and the last time I checked, Naani still means “expression of one and all.”  It consists of 4 lines, totalling 20 to 25 syllables. It is generally untitled, although the subject may be inferred in the first line. The poem is not bound to a particular subject, but is often about human relations. 

SAARA’S NAANI:

Many people walk on tiptoe, skirting
around words they long to say,
missing opportunities

 

WAALT’S NAANI:

We offer love
expressing our hearts
to each other. We offer our hearts
expressing the love they bear!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

PROMPT #195 – ANIMAL, VEGETABLE OR MINERAL

Today, your muse is directed to one of three things. As we draw near the fall season, I notice the animals in the neighborhood changing their pattern. The domestics seem to draw close to home, where the “wild” animal are foraging for the months to come. Flushed out from the reservoir, the deer come down to pick the pears and apples that have fallen, ripe for the taking. The groundhog started burrowing to prepare their winter resting place.

Also, fall is harvest time! (Check the Harvest Moon!) The farmer’s market is thriving as the crops are brought to market and sold. Fresh fruits and vegetables and floral plants are offered at a fair price and find their way onto our table more as these days dwindle down.

Mineral things round out the bill (and fills our last item in the adage!)

For this week’s prompt, write a poem of something animal, vegetable or mineral. The choice could be the title of the poem, the subject of the poem, a bit part in the poem. Discover what surrounds us. Everything in life is either animal, vegetable or mineral! And as always, have fun.

 

SARA’S POEM:

AT THE FARMER’S MARKET

Red, hearty Honeycrisp apples,
and Barlett pears, pair up with green
and white striped squash, and bold

orange pumpkins. Last group of Italian
prune plums are on sale. Tails of brown
silk trail ends of corn ears, piled

up on stands, a checkerboard
of sweet mixed kernels–
white and yellow. Scent

of apple cider spices the air.
Fare of farmer’s markets lures
customers with promise of Autumn.

 

WALTER’S POEM:

GUINNESS AND MARVEL

Guinness and Marvel

Guinness and Marvel Photo by Melissa Kruse

Guinness is “our” rescue dog.
She has been gracing our lives for years.
Her ears flop when she runs
but she seems to have slowed down a bit.
And it is always a joy to see
the excitement in her wagging tail.
She has accepted us at long last,
no longer skittish and defensive,
no longer afraid or pensive.
She’s a good girl.

Marvel is her new little “sister”.
Another dog saved from a life of cruelty,
the rule to me is, if you save one
you save yourself in the process.
This little one is an explorer
and more bold than her bigger companion.
A Boston Terrier/ Dachshund mix,
a “Bodash” by breed and I need a towel
when she launches into my arms with sloppy wet
“kisses”. This little miss is a fine addition!
***

In five weeks (October 23) we will celebrate our 200th prompt at Poetic Bloomings. We will begin gathering submissions from our Poetic Bloomings poets for our anthology collection. It’s been a while since we assembled one and I think it’s time we did. Poets who have written to our prompts or our inform poets selections are eligible to submit up to five of such poems for consideration. Further details will be presented as we near the Oct. 23rd date. So start perusing your poetic pearls to select your poems for consideration.

INFORM POETS – LINE MESSAGING

TODAY WE RE-VISIT LINE MESSAGING:

In LINE MESSAGING poetry, the final line of each stanza may be compiled to create an entirely new poem with its own independent message (a poem within a poem).  It appears there are no rules for number of stanzas, or rhyme scheme.   This form was created by Angel Favazza.

See Shadow Poetry for more on LINE MESSAGING

 

SARA’S MESSAGE:

AS I CONTEMPLATE SURGERY

Ponder truth of genetics,
with age, clarity comes.
Dad referred to himself
as Bionic man, both hips replaced

An arthritic neck had him
bent and stooping
as he tried to walk. Ever athletic
his speed was greatly curtailed.

Handball games, bicycle rides,
long walks across the beach,
arms cutting like sharpened knives
through the pool–he loved to swim.

His daughter is due up next,
a hip replacement, more solid
done with newer technology.
My own fear involves waking mid-stream

shocked, in great pain,
and unable to speak.
Of course I’ve heard horror tales,
so I ruminate for next six weeks.

—————————————–
RUMINATION

As Bionic man, both hips replaced
his speed was greatly curtailed,
through the pool–he loved to swim.
My own fear involves waking mid-stream
so I ruminate for next six weeks.

 

WALT’S EXAMPLE MESSAGE:

A HEART IN THE SILENCE OF LOVE

Silence is a comforting companion,
a reminder that peace soothes 
and love is the cure for
a heart left to languish.

 Even when it seems to be hopeless,
you find a way to embrace
life as the gift it is,
you are not far from
living to the fullest
in the throes of a lifetime love,

 Fondness of heart strengthens
in the absence of it, But above it all
you know that life is in the living,
and love is found in the giving.
For it is the truest of hearts that
never feels abandoned for lack of it

 © Walter J Wojtanik 

The independent (poem) message:

 
LOVE LIVES ON

 A heart left to languish
in the throes of a lifetime love,
never feels abandoned for lack of it
 

 © Walter J Wojtanik

***

This is my original poem from our 2013 excursion into line messaging. I will post a new poem in the comments.

PROMPT #194 – THE BEST THING I EVER ATE

Let’s talk about food, shall we? We all have a favorite food. Maybe it is something your mother or grandmother made… a family recipe. Or perhaps there is a local eatery that has the best… whatever it is. Tell us in poem form what you crave more times than not! If your taste buds are easily satisfied write about that place, be it a national chain, a “Mom and Pop” Restaurant or a food truck that makes the rounds. Give us a taste of your epicurean tastes!

SARA’S TASTE:

I COULD NEVER CHOOSE A LAST SUPPER

Hard
choice
to make–
scents waft by
me–Mom’s stuffed cabbage,
Grandma’s potato knishes, or
sweet cheese blintzes, dollops of sour cream for dipping. Then,
there is my friend Kate’s lemon chicken, my husband’s spicy chili, and gumbo, plus crisp
pizza from Denino’s, and cannoli’s from Brooklyn. Not to sell myself short, my
eggplant parmigiana, peach crumb pie, and a sinful pecan.
So, as you can see, there is variety in my diet, not many foods I do not like, with two
exceptions–lima beans, and okra–both a sickly green color, with unpleasant
texture. I have not even included wine!


REMEMBRANCE

I was fortunate
on September 11th.
Not caught in flames, I watched
from a bus window, thinking
my building is gone–who was lost?

WALT’S WAIST:

FISH FRY (Epulaeryu)

Broiled or breaded, it said
with fries on the side.
Cole slaw or macaroni/
potato salad.
The true Polish way.
“Two to go!”
Yum!

***

Today also marks the 15th anniversary of the 911 tragedy in NYC. You may also post tribute poems to memorialize this day. New poems and previously written poems will be accepted.

WALT’S MEMORIAL:

PSALM FOR FLIGHT 93: IN VERDANT PASTURES

flight93

He gives them repose; a long journey ended
and all who had risen to the occasion knew
their rest was well earned. Not how they would
have wanted, but God never asked them
what they wanted. He gave them what He knew
they could handle. And so, brave and stoic,
extremely heroic they were at peace with
the decision that was made. Honor in their way;
on their terms. A rest well earned
and on that day they learned their limitations.
Strong enough to defend their nation.
In control on the command, “Let’s Roll”.
In verdant pastures, the Shepherd
snatched them up to rest peacefully.
They needed and wanted nothing more.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik

 

FIVE SIDES

Pentagon

There were five sides to every story,
in a place where glory was the prize earned
through valiant effort and selfless sacrifice.
It would have been nice to face your attackers,
but cowardly slackers destined to fail their main mission
sat in a position to cause as much damage as they could.
Would they have succeeded, we would have pleaded
for mercy. But we don’t play that way. The heroes
in New York and Pennsylvania had back-up
in the Nation’s capitol. On patrol and wresting control
back from the faceless assailant.  Our own mission clear.
Do not lead out of fear. Defend out of honor and respect
of those who had given so much for the cause of many.
In any instance, there remains five sides to every story.
In honor and glory, they died for a cause,
earning our undying devotion and endless applause.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik

 

…AND THE FLAG WAS STILL THERE

FlagRaise

A principle was attacked amidst
tears and destruction; a surreal snapshot
of a day worth forgetting. But no one did.
How do you forget the sight; the sound?
How do you forget the faces; the screams?
How do you diminish the sacrifice?
The word ‘impossible’ was tailor made
for this moment in time. Despair and
disbelief would be usurped by anger
and determination to not allow those who
put it all on the line, go quietly into that good night.
It became a fight to rise each day to face
the insurmountable task one brick at a time.
As many bricks as there were tears shed.
As many shards of glass as there were screams
of torment and terror. But the greatest error
made by a faceless ideology was assuming
we were broken and defeated. But the foresight
of three brothers of the fraternity most depleted
showed we were not defeated. Through the rubble
it stood in defiance. A naked flagpole planted
among the girders and debris. A symbol; our banner
raised high. A declaration loud and clear.
We are still here. We will not go gently.
Together we stand, a shield for liberty.
You took your shot and failed. An American Tale…
and the flag was still there! America had been blessed

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik

INFORM POETS – BUSSOKUSEKIKA

A few prompts back, our friend over at dVerse Poets Pub, Kanzen Sakura (Toni Spencer) introduced us to another form, the Bussokusekika. It is a Japanese poetic form that follows the rules of tanka, except there are six lines with three seven syllable lines that end the poem for a 5-7-5-7-7-7 syllable count. Today, we’ll take a shot at the Bussokusekika.

 

This is a link to Toni’s blog with her example of this form!

https://kanzensakura.wordpress.com/2016/08/30/dverse-poetics-new-moon/

SARA’S ATTEMPT:

DAWN FOG

dense gray fog at dawn
curtain masks outside windows
nothing can be seen
as I stand enjoying haze
a glimmer of light pokes through
curtain rises – trees appear

© Sara McNulty – 2016

WALT’S ATTEMPT:

SUNLIGHT SONG

she sings like sunlight –
softly touching all it sees
her song – a blessing
meant to comfort all who hear
beauty is her melody
tender music is her soul

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

PROMPT # 193 – WE ALL SCREAM

The old children’s chant goes “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream”! These dog days surely call for a taste now and then. Pick a favourite flavour as your inspiration and use it as the title of your poem. Points for making up your own flavour! Bonus points if your poem actually has nothing to do with ice cream!

I’m battling connectivity problems and will post my poem in the comments when I’m able. Posted the prompt on my phone from an ice cream emporium, so…

INFORM POETS – CRYSTALLINE

I’m giving you a break and offering an easy form this week.

A CRYSTALLINE is a two line image poem, often with a title, in which euphony is the key factor. The lines will have 8 or 9 syllables to make a total of seventeen.

Write as many as you’d like, or string some together to make for a longer poem. The choice is yours!

SARA’S CRYSTALLINE:

PUFFS OF PERFUME

Rich rose perfume of last bold blooms

scents sidewalks, smiles of passers by

© Sara McNulty – 2016

STRUMMING OF SITARS

sitar strings strum behind closed eyes

meditation mood set in stillness

© Sara McNulty – 2016

 

WALT’S CRYSTALLINE:

MIST IN THE NIGHT

The surf is soft, serene. Here I dream,

us in the moonlight making steam!

 

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

 

 

PROMPT #192 – THE NIGHT, THE MOON AND THE MUSIC

After a sweltering day, the night has cooled a bit and it’s a beautiful night. A soothing breeze is present. There’s a moon out tonight. Nothing special about that. Unless you make it special. Your poem will be a night poem. Be inspired by the moon. Think of a song that sings of the night. Or write the sounds of night. The night sky. Yes, the moon and stars. Silhouettes in the night. Strangers in the night. Paint the romance of night with your words. Write the despair of night with your words. Play the music of night with your words. Just don’t take all night as we rediscover the evening sky!

 

I was late posting up the prompt  and never gave Sara a chance to prepare her poem, so we will submit our poems in the comments box. Thanks for understanding!

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