PROMPT #17 – CH-CH-CH-CHANGES
Changes are afoot! Autumn is rapidly approaching and whether you like change or do not like change, it is inevitable. And we have encountered some changes that are good and some that haven’t turned out so well. Write about change. Something changes, one thing becomes another, spare change in your pocket or change of attitude. Would you like to change something about yourself, or someone else? Write about it before you change your mind!
Marie Elena’s Change:
NOW WHAT?
Acclimatize, familiarize,
Revise, amend, and bend.
Rework, adjust
(you simply must),
Then modify and blend.
Find your footing,
(no off-putting)
Settle in, and then
Get a feel for this new deal, and
Learn from where you’ve been.
Walt’s Transition:
NO MORE
I can’t live like this anymore.
My battle waged in the war of words.
Mine: smooth, poetic, full of passion.
Yours: denigrating, non-supportive, full of shit.
It seems we’ve played this aria before,
it’s time the record changes.
Same old song; no more.
Walt – who’s been rattling your cage? I’ll see ’em off for you!
Marie Elena – clever title for a clever poem. It reminded me of the Rotarians’ motto: “Adopt, adapt, improve.”
re: Walt: me, too. let me at ’em
Go get ‘er, Ladies! W.
Thank you Viv!
ch-ch-c
Something changed in the night.
With a mighty crash, and sparks
spitting like a dozen pissed cats,
up, in the sky, the dam that was
holding back the weather, broke.
Barbara- The third line cracks me up!
me too.
Yeah, that dam weather!
Never Judge a Book by Its Cover
For years she tried to alter
her appearance; plastering
a smile on her face at all times
tanning in a coffin, shrinking body
size unconventionally. A funhouse
mirror hung in her mind, warping
self-image with each sideways glance
while inside she withered away.
~laurie
Oh god, Laurie, this could be me – especially the 2nd stanza, spot on me! Love it!
Thank you… it was me.
A picture all too common these days: the victims are getting younger and younger. Love yourself, I say, warts and all.
I love my warts Viv, and that’s coming from the frog prince of Cheektowaga. (Trust me, Amy’s laughing her arse off right about now!)
Tanning in a coffin – I’ve seen pictures of tanning booths and never made that connection. Powerful stuff, Laurie. I have inordinate respect for UV rays after living in the tropics during my singing years, watching the tourists, peeling lobsters. I’m a “White Girl SPF 80” girl! Amy
UNTITLED
For years I couldn’t look at you—
Hate and her cohorts filled the courtroom
of my heart, gavel-pounded, judgment pronounced.
I couldn’t tell you just what happened,
but given time and maturation,
impurities leach out.
A space emptied of its dross is larger than imagined.
Heart holds the two of us together now,
and room for many more beside.
“A space emptied of its dross is larger than imagined”- powerful words!
For the Good
Each sunset we grow a little older.
Every morning brings a fresh new start.
Wars are won and lost thru countless battles.
Peace is brought forth when you do your part.
Changes in perspective don’t come easy.
Move about the plane to shift your view.
Seek to see the glory here in all things.
Know that love comes from deep inside you.
To start today or waste away?
To do, to go, to be?
Live the life that you were always destined.
That mission in your mind you clearly see.
Take a tiny little step today.
Take a giant leap then, if you dare.
Crawl or walk or run on toward your great goal.
Moving forward, somehow you’ll get there.
There’s a moment, everlasting vision.
Dwell not on the could or would or should.
If you dream it, do it with a passion,
so long as it is rendered for the good.
By Michael Grove
Michael, your poem and Sal’s are kind of like soulmates. Remember (I’m not digressing, I promise) The Rocky Horror Picture Show? “Don’t just dream it… be it.”
And the most important phrase is the denouement… perfect ending. Great work! Amy
Yaeh, what she just said!
happy trails…
I pause before
his empty recliner
—Cara Holman
Time for a Change
Your spirit is restless each day
You’re wishing to go your own way
Discontent comes in a wide range
So maybe it’s time for a change
What fit like a glove does no more
What once intrigued begins to bore
What was familiar now seems strange
So maybe it’s time for a change
You balance the pros and the cons
Concepts disillusionment spawns
Priorities can rearrange
So maybe it’s time for a change
Hmmmm… many interpretations possible, which makes this a very accessible poem. Almost anyone could read it and relate it to their own life. Effective! Amy
IF I HAD POWER
(A Diminished Hexaverse)
If I had power
To change the whole world,
Utter magic words
And make all things right,
Say, “Let there be peace,”
I would do it
In a heartbeat,
But who am I
To change the world?
Just a man
With a dream…
Powerless.
I pray
God grants
Peace.
#
Sal, the power is not only in the prayer, it’s in each one of us to show our love constantly to others. Who are you to change the world? You are a poet. You are a dreamer and believer. Sometimes, it takes many to gather to bring about the change… not just one Dr. King and then everyone gives up, disheartened. Many Dr. Kings, as he lives inside all who remember him; many Gandhis, many Christs.
A wonderful meditation, Sal. Amy
HIGHSCHOOL ACROS(tic) THE STREET
Happy to move on, but
Insecure at the start.
Getting lost looking for the pool,
Hearing it doesn’t exist.
Seeing new faces (and new boys),
Catching up with old friends.
Homecoming around the corner, if
Only HE would ask!
Ordinary yet not the same, how I
Look forward to the next four years.
I’m 54 and still have horrible dreams about not being able to find my locker! Nice, nostalgic, honest. Thanks, Amy
Amy, I have that same dream…sort of. I dream I get stuffed inside of your locker and you can’t find it. High School was a torture then; softened over nostalia!
Change of Address
South Philly row home
tiny, narrow, steep-staired
gives way to
West Philly care home
spotless, loving, God-centered
Time has wreaked erosion —
brittle bones
weakened limbs
vanquished spirit
What does the future hold?
I can relate, Theresa. Although the spirit may seem vanquished, if the home is God-centered, it won’t stay that way for long. Been there, seen it happen. Lovely poem. Amy
Theresa! Wonderful to have you join in the fun! It’s been entirely too long since I’ve “heard your voice.”
meg
That goes double for the guy with the other keys to this jalopy! (Yes, she has a set of keys too!) Very good to read you again indeed!
Both are very cool!
OK, hope this isn’t too racy for the Garden! Amy On my blog at:
http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/08/22/the-big-change-poetic-bloomings/
The Big Change
How to explain the changes ahead of me.
First, Mom needed gin, just a snort
to abort the mortification of
the dreaded subject at hand: Sex.
On a page in her steno notebook,
she drew crude diagrams:
Ovaries, tubes, uterus – utilitarian scrawls,
later to be thrown away in disgust.
“The egg starts in here,” pen on ovary,
“travels down through here,”
tracing Fallopian Lane,
“and ends up here. Once a month.”
Another jigger of gin for courage.
“If the egg gets fertilized, it stays here
and becomes a baby. If not,”
siiiiiiigh, “you bleed and need some equipment.”
She pulled out the mysterious
blue box, used heretofore only by
Mom and my big sisters. Removing
napkin and belt, she trussed me up.
That was the extent of Sex Ed with Mom:
There were eggs (aren’t eggs big?).
There were tubes and a place
you might make a baby (is fertilization about peat moss?)
Later I found out the good stuff…
recalling Mae West’s immortal wisdom:
“No man ever loved me
the way I love myself!”
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Very nice work Amy. I like the Mae West reference at the denouement. Ha! Moms gin for courage speaks to the uncomfortable situation at hand there. Not a lot of detail in those crude line drawings. I remember my “talks” with dad and mom separately. A little different perspective.
Marie and Walt – both great poems. Walt, yours is like a waltz with Gravy Train where the orchestra never takes a break. Marie, that’s a change I can embrace. Good work, guys! Amy
Thanks bunches, Amy! Yours cracks me up. Mostly true story, I assume? 😉
meg
Completely true, from the jiggers of gin to the “trussing up.” I swear, if I ever wrote a book, they’d assume it could not be autobiographical, because my family was/is so outrageous! LOL Amy
Walt’s waltz does flow (even fueled by anger) but union rules say the band always gets a break. Take five!
in another time and another place,
i gave myself to art: scribblings on moleskine,
the soft caress of watercolor. poetry,
lighter than sole meuniere, and fiction,
darker than chocolate.
once upon a time i was the girl who was fated
to be an epidemiologist, who kept lists of facts on
the palm of her mind. who shook herself to sleep
with nightmares of smallpox, cholera:
when i miss my factual self, all i can do is write.
Welcome, Jessica! I’m not sure how you discovered us, but I’m glad you did.
Marie Elena
Jessica, I do hope you stick around a while. It will be interesting to see your muse develop. I can see some amazing “blooms” coming in the future. Take root a while and grow with us!
A big welcome to gospelwriter and mama zen. Mama, feel free to join in the fun!
Marie Elena
C ontinually
H aving to
A djust
N ever
G ets
E asier
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Stay Within the Lines
The box spilled
its contents rolled
and grass and flowers grew
then trees with swings
and birds flew
beyond the buildings
to the clouds
till Mama said,
“You can use a different crayon.”
But I colored everything
a happy orange
until I knew
what black and blue meant
and put my colors
down.
Patricia, Lady you “paint” a picture. Wow! We all seem to find the “black and blue”. How unfortunate that such worded wonder springs from that horrid combination! Nice work.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
All of a sudden, it seemed, everything shifted.
I mean, now I look at myself in the mirror,
never have gotten stuck doing that before,
It’s my body, all right – skin grafts, check,
stitching scars, check, sagging lower belly, check.
What the hell, it’s a used body, this one, well used.
No, it’s not the body, at least not the externals.
There’s movement and change, I think maybe growth.
Never been a churchgoer, but I’m there now.
They don’t call it a church, it’s the Unity Center,
but what’s in a name, really? It’s a church.
There’s singing and praying and meditation.
There’s sermons and thoughts for living.
It’s a church, all right.
Even my dreams have been altered,
by cosmic forces or aging nostrils, who can tell?
Hopes and aspirations still abound, different now.
I’ve bought enough stuff, sold enough homes,
moved enough times, looking, seeking, reaching.
Now the goals are inward, searching for that place,
no, not a place, waiting for that spirit to touch me.
I’ve been poor before, really poor
No food, no money, no job, no ideas,
always been afraid it could happen again.
Careful as I am, it’s not going to show up soon.
How, then, will success be measured?
Perhaps it’s in how well I manage change.
Maybe it’s in just letting the change occur.
Whatever’s coming, there are a few things I know.
I want to laugh too much.
I plan to cry when it’s necessary.
I intend to be happy, healthy and at peace.
So, it’s not really change that’s due, at all.
It’s simply transformation.
Love the lines: “I want to laugh too much. / I plan to cry when it’s necessary.”
Change is Inevitable draft 1
Change is inevitable
Change is coming
Change is here
Change is everywhere
We embrace it
We reject it
We affect it
We are the emodiment change
We give, We achieve
We take, We receive
The equilibrium of life
The equilibrium of life is the ever constant dynamic flow of internal and external changes
that spontaneously takes place within us and the environment
physically, psychologically, and spiritually in all things
Whenever this flow is interrupted or stops
there is not only imbalance but an unrest in
our being that leads to a deep
severe unhappiness and a
bitter dysfunctional state.
Still burning the midnight oil
When will I ever change
into an early bird
rising early in the
womb of the day?
Change is inevitable
The sun rises and
the day dawns
without our consent
The weather changes
upon a dime
without notice
The Sun sets
flowers fade
leaves fall away
against our advice
The earth spins about
upon its axis
rotating
without any effort
on our part
People die
and we don’t know why
change is inevitable
New life begins
with every birth
a new generation
to change yet again
an ever changing planet
Old things fall away
New things emerge
Every day brings change
The good, the bad
The positive, the negative
Relationships change
Jobs change
People change
Hearts change
Change is inevitable
I agree with Walt and I enjoyed the rhythm as well.
Excellent string, Benjamin! Obviously, you’re good with change (or at least waxing poetic about change!)
Daniel my friend, I wish you the transformation you aspire to. Wonderful piece.
Thanks Walt! I really enjoyed this prompt.
I like the new platform as well. Nice upgrade.
Keep Your Coins, I Want Change.
Who do you think you are now?
says the Dali painting from the floor.
You look the same to me.
the dusty Nomar Garciaparra baseball card.
The real challenge won’t be the Northeast Extension
or the move south,
but it will be putting the rubber on the tiles in that basement
without falling back to the knees which crawled out of it.
But faced fears are converted into assets
and growth,
and all roads go through New Jersey.
Summer Solace
as one thing ends
so another starts
the long hard graft comes to a close
six weeks of rest and fun begin
a change of clime
a change of country
a change of clothes
a change of rhythm
a time to take it easy
a time to make the most of
a change of pace
a change of style
and a chance to recharge
the emptied batteries
and get ready to
change again
Iain
Hi Iain,
how are ya bud. I’ve enjoyed a couple of you’re poems today.
Hope all is well.
Digital
A few judicious changes here and there
some what-do-I-care, some techno-verve.
I’ll take my well deserved vacation, on my own in Photoshop
I’m going to copy my feet and paste them in the sand
of Grand Cayman. I’ll take my pasty toes
and filter them rosey from the sun,
and while I’m having fun, with the ocean and the breeze,
maybe I’ll go ahead and pixilate my knees then work my up
til I layer in a grinning me, barefoot in the best surf I can find
on line.
Walking away
When did you grow so tall, my boy, or lose
The ring of curls that framed the infant face
Which met me only yesterday? The pace
Of change can sometimes leave me gasping. News
From you comes slowly, wrapped in teasing clues
Regarding work, and girls. Never a trace
Of trouble, though that also has its place
I’m sure, just stored up for the time you choose.
You carry each emotion on your back
Hunched over with biology, until
You fling that load where no one else can see.
How well I recognize this well-worn track.
Sometimes I wish that I could hold you still,
But now you need to walk away from me.
Thanks to Amy, Meg and Walt. It’s good to be back, although I’ll probably be in and out as time allows. Feels like coming home again. Thanks for this great site.
BTW, “meg” is just my initials (Marie Elena Good). 😉
A little late, but here it is:
The Last Time:
She wears long sleeves in August; laughs
about her fat arms. Sunglasses
hide her blue eyes. Please don’t call the house
after six; her daughter may be sleeping.
She’s taken to buying dark make-up and
waterproof mascara.
He swears he’s going to change
This was the last time
The questions come more often
The looks, the whispers too
How many times can she say she
bumped into a door?
tripped on the stairs?
Besides it’s not all his fault; she
has a temper too and
they both drink too much.
He swears he’s going to change
This was the last time
She thinks about leaving him when
her daughter starts to cower
But where would she go? Who would she tell?
So they drink too much and yell and it was
the last time; in a beautiful dress meant for a party
a little girl helps bury her mother.
He swears he’s going to change
This was the last time
No such thing as too late, Lolamouse. Glad you can join the fray.
Right, never too late. The Fun starts every Sunday and kinda ends late Friday each week. You might find yourself getting 2 or 3 in on some weeks when the prompt tickles your muse just right.
I agree Mike! Its never too late to join the party!
Powerful words that paint such a haunting image.
Elusive
They say wisdom comes with age –
She dyed her hair to hide the gray,
she bought new clothes for self-esteem,
she played games with words
whether cutting or witty,
positive being brutally honest
would be less hypocritical
then telling white lies.
Then she changed –
She embraced her hair with grace and wit,
she bought new clothes for fun,
she played with words on paper
and tried to only speak words
of kindness and love
and she found that sometimes
not telling the complete truth
was kinder to the recipient.
And she discovered –
She found more joy in her life,
loving herself and giving of herself
to others via time, word or deed
than in any other time in her life.
She took more joy from the small
things in life, she slowed down
the pace and smiled at the person
she was becoming, knowing she
was finally on the right path for her.
She is still changing.
Forever changing. A very reflective poem.
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CHANGES?
by Mike Patrick
Would I change that which you are?
Your smile perhaps, in evening’s glow?
It still delights, and etches beauty lines
along the corners of your eyes.
Could I improve your eyes?
The blue that haunts my waking hours
and wakes me from my sleep?
Your lips . . . I cannot improve,
they seem to still fit mine.
The softness of the hands
that caress my cheeks?
No . . . no.
Tis not for me to interfere
with what the hand of God has shaped.
Late to the party (you’ll know why in a sec.) BIG changes at my house…
Bone of Contention
There’s a puppy in my house
and everything’s a mess.
It’s total, utter chaos
and more than a little stress.
There’s a puppy in my house.
Yes, the floors are kind of damp.
And we’re already learning
she’s part lady, and part tramp.
There’s a puppy in my house
so there’s barking, pooing, chewing
ignoring and imploring
and oh, what are we doing?
There are days I want to give her back
and then I realize with a start
that this puppy in my house
has made her home in my heart.
Hi De!
Love the bone of contention. You definitely have changes going on in your house as well as your heart. What’s the puppy’s name?
Thanks, Benjamin and Shannon. She’s a rescue pup, 6 months old, and came to us with the name Kiera already (which she answers to, so we kept it). Being word folk, we had to add some of our own. So she is Kiera-Kai Love Jackson. Kai means “ocean” in Hawaiian, and we looked up Kiera, which means “dark” (which her sweet face is). Come to find out since that Kai also means “dog” in Cornish, and “love” in Nigerian. Perfect. 🙂 The “part lady, part tramp” line is soooooo true. 😉
We have two dogs and we got both as puppies. I do not miss those puppy days, which you expressed with great rhyming flare. I loved the phrase, “ignoring and imploring”.
Possibilities of Change
Fragmented thoughts
jumbled together,
flushed from brain to page.
A tangled web of run-ons
and errors
awaiting the next phase.
Shuffling and sorting,
striking out, simplifying;
ridding the draft of
redundant thought and phrase.
Each word weighed and measured
then pieced back together
unearthing the possibilities
of change.
Loved your poem. Handcrafted by a true artist.
Thank you. I finally found a little time to write today:0)
Go away Irene (Shadorma)
Irene breaks
Hurricane rains strewn
Millions flee
Disaster
A boy dies from fallen tree
Please change the channel
Nature’s Wild Card (Alphabetic Poem)
Absolutely atrocious
Being battered by
Calamities causing
Deep distress
Eastern earthquakes
Frantic families
Gallant guardsman
Helping hands
In Irene’s
Jeering jaws
Keen kiss
Lamenting losses
Mourning memories
New York, North Carolina
Observing Oblivion
Producing Pandemonium
Questions, quanderies
Radical reasoning
Still sounding
Til
Understanding
Verifies
Why Weather
X-tremes
Yearly
Zeal