So here we stand at week 52 of our wonderful garden walk that we call POETIC BLOOMINGS. The journey has been extremely enjoyable, uniting tremendously talented poets from around the world into this supportive and nurturing group. For your participation, Marie Elena and I say Thank You! For sharing your poetry with the rest of us, we are totally blessed!

As we close out our first year, we take a reflective look back at our bodies of work at POETIC BLOOMINGS, with a strong direction and an eye toward the next phase of our growth.

Our prompt this week asks you to take the last line of any poem you have written, and make that ending line the beginning of a new poem. We welcome you to attribute the site and prompt for which the original poem was written, and provide a link to it or your own blog where it has appeared if you wish.

As April Poetry Month winds down, we are gearing up for some exciting new ventures here at POETIC BLOOMINGS. We welcome you to continue along with us and be an integral part of this Garden.



And comfort remains
the shortest route
the only means
to her emotional health,
as medications
are minimally effective,
and add their own
intolerable symptoms.
The comforter/encourager –
though not the healer,
remains the role
of immeasurable impact.

Last line from Poetic Asides April 2 prompt: Write a Visitor Poem – MY DECEASED GRANDPA (a dodoitsu)




And let your poetry take its hold,
for the world needs to know
the power of your words;
they touch hearts and placate souls.

Giving tender and supportive caresses,
which nurtures the lives so possessed,
and let your poetry take its hold;
let others share your success.

The last line from POETIC ASIDES Day 18 Prompt – Favorite Regional Cuisine poem – FOOD FOR THOUGHT


    • Marie’s the support and nurturing. I’m the manure spreader! 😉 Thanks Barbara and all. This has been a labor of love from the beginning, so it shouldn’t be too surprising that we’ve been able to keep this place the destination for poets from around the world to share in that community. W.

  1. Heavenly Garden Path on this Earth Day

    “But now…..I listen”
    Because only God KNOWS me,
    He leads…..I follow.


    In this knowledge
    I move forward
    finding purpose,
    meaning and a plan.
    This’s not a haphazard
    trip, traipsing-travel
    but a transcendent one.
    With reverence toward all,
    I’ll tenderly render my life
    knowing that the very magic
    that makes you
    makes me, too.
    That your song
    holds space
    in my song
    and mine in yours.
    Each of our notes
    are in the same symphony,
    resounding with their own
    special qualities, together.

    © H.G. @ P.B. 4/22/12

    I took an easy way out (as far as the decision making process goes), and picked the last line from the one I wrote this morning @ Poetic Asides (PAD #22).

  3. Ohmygoodness! Yesterday I wrote today’s FlashyFiction post, and posted it on the timer to run today. Go over and check it out. Great minds think alike, apparently. 😉


    The pitiful lady,
    her wellingtons on,
    on a sunny day,
    my numerous unopened letters.

    Who will not let in
    and say,
    it’s a beautiful day?

  5. Wonderful prompt this morning, Walt, Marie. I’ll be back later to participate. Your examples, as always are stunning.

  6. Here’s my offering for this morning. I’ll be back later to do reading and comments.


    A sacrifice to her hourglass self,
    Her life becomes a painful series
    Of diets, exercise, and calorie counting,
    Striving always to be Mirror’s perfect
    Reflection, a temple to evoke envy
    From all who witness her magnificence.
    Ah, the resounding pity, should anyone
    Guess she wept each day for the luxury
    Of tasting just one sliver of birthday cake.
    Queens pay, too, for being the Fairest of Them All?

    © Claudette J. Young

    This began with the PAD Day 13 Challenge Prompt: Write an unlucky poem–“Unlucky in Love: Poor Male”

  7. Pingback: ~MAKER’S MASTERPIECE~ « Metaphors and Smiles

  8. Happy Birthday, Poetic Bloomings. It’s been a good first year. Thanks Walt and Marie!

    (First line from my poem, Getting Over It)
    (Also goes with today’s PA prompt.)


    You can spend a whole life learning to appreciate
    the positives and overlook the negatives
    of self and others. Like, a train chugging
    down the wrong track, critical evaluation
    of a person’s motives and value builds
    up speed and is hard to stop. A commitment
    to love, in spite of it all, un-derails.

  9. Pingback: Enough | Awakened Words

  10. Bloom(

    In earth unknown
    Beyond your planting
    Beyond your understanding
    Beyond worlds you counted on…

    The Father is a good gardener
    He will finish what is started here
    Know so much is still beneath the surface
    Sing in uncertainty, sing through tears.

    Never give up, never presume,
    So you’re not enough. Just make Him room,
    Know He’ll finish what He started,
    So lift your face, oh little heart,

    Plant a seed in earth unknown
    Far from the gardens of your home,
    Revel in joy yours and yours alone
    Know what the Gardeners, knows,
    That though the growth seems oh so slow
    When all is done, when you have grown
    In solid rock, in certain stone,
    You’ll bloom.

  11. Love this prompt! Mine is from Clear Direction.


    Inspired, perhaps, by Earth Day and watching “Howl” last night.

    We left the compass
    at home, forgotten in some
    drawer full of coupons
    and crumbs and fortune cookies.
    We knew where we were going.

    We felt our way through
    the flat night, navigating
    by murky moonlight
    a spiderweb of street lights
    that led to something beyond

    city water pipes
    and cookie cutter housing
    divisions and fast
    food drive-thrus. We followed the
    elemental pull of some

    primal lust buried
    deep in our mother’s mother’s
    bones, a knowing that
    this land was the breast milk of
    thousands who had walked and died

    crossing great plains and
    mountains, sacred warriors
    led by ancestors
    who traveled beside them and
    honored their transcendent quest.

  12. The Hole in Our Lives

    The hole in our lives is ragged and distinct and we need you
    More than I thought or imagined possible when first you left

    The ache in my heart leaking old memories faster than I can
    Even think about creating new ones is a pain unlike anything

    I’ve yet experienced in this life and there seems no soothing
    Of such an ache, no dulling its incessant throb, no smoothing

    Its edges as ragged and distinct as the hole left in our lives
    When you left and our need grows steadily larger and more

    Terrible as days go by and you don’t return; I keep thinking
    Time and distance will make all the difference but they don’t

    Just worse – everything just seems worse and I don’t think
    Anything will ever get any better without you so please

    Please come back – let’s start again – let’s forget whatever
    It was that made you go; I know I have already and that will

    Probably hurt you and make you angry all over again but how
    Awful could it be if I can’t even recall it? Please just come back.

    based on the last line in “Something About Missing You is Different This Time” Poetic Asides Challenge
    April 12, 2012 prompt “Something _________________”

  13. The Sands of Time Trickle On

    – taken from my poem The Sands of Time – written on this day (23 April) for the first PA PAD – 2008 to the prompt “getting older”

    An old age full of promise
    beckons with a gleeful smile
    and a bright sparkling eye
    to light the way

    The demons are slain
    the fears are conquered
    and nothing but time itself
    stands in the way

    Dreams and schemes
    and the best laid plans
    are plotted and planned
    though they often go astray

    The heart is strong
    the spirit is keen
    and the body we hope
    will stand the test

    The day will come
    when work is done
    and there’ll be time
    to get a little rest

    And live with a freedom
    never known before
    and cast aside all cares
    to travel to distant lands

    To visit friends far away
    to see the sights
    for so long imagined
    will be oh so grand

    Not counting the grains
    as they fall for
    the sands of time
    are just made of sand

    Not caring if today
    or tomorrow will be
    the last just taking
    fate by its horny hand


  14. “keep you in the night”

    Keep you in the night
    Safe in the night,
    in the day, grow strong.
    Keep you in the day
    Strong in the day,
    in the night, learn peace.
    Keep you in the night
    At peace.
    At peace in the night,
    in the day, be at peace
    Keep you in your heart at peace.

    “keep you in the night”

    from “Spell” written April 2010 in response to a Poetic Asides ekphrasis prompt, 
    but to an image I had photoshopped together to illustrate the imaginary place
    that evolved from a poem written as ekphrasis
    to an image on the old RWP site. It’s like the begats.

  15. From PB Prompt #9 – Deep Space Nine


    Amazed yet again at the Creator’s hand,
    I am astounded when I see that look I make,
    on your face. Or hear your dad’s laugh
    coming from a 10 year old.

    I am acutely aware that our genes
    have been miraculously dispersed
    among four of you. Revealed
    in a variety of ways.

    From the shape of your eyes and
    the lilt of your gait. To the outgoing
    and the reserved. I marvel how four
    can be so different, yet the same.

    © KED 2012

  16. Tread Softly

    Wash out your mouth
    and give me your shoes,

    you say,
    and I do
    but you choose
    to leave them laced
    placed on a shelf;
    walk no miles
    accept no smiles
    draw these tracks in
    permanent marker
    across our backs.

    And I
    who have
    forever tried to fill
    your empty spaces,
    and long
    stepped down
    from high places
    of any kind,
    sit, still
    mourn all four
    of our tired feet.

    First line from this poem, which first appeared at Poetic Asides, now found on my blog:

  17. never mind that “permanent bold” thing, “Tread Softly” is brilliant … so, so, poignant, filled with this longing and unfulfilled, unmet promises … just heart-breaking.

    • Such strength and beauty in both the words and the bold, red field of flowers… I love them both!

    • Welcome Patti! So glad you found us. Your poem and photo are stunners. Hoping to see more of your work here!

      Marie Elena

    • I’ve seen that woman, more times than I can count. She lives in nursing homes everywhere, waiting to go home. Well done, Mary.

        • Many, many years ago, when I worked in a nursing home as a young woman, the place was filled with examples of this woman. It was sad, painful, exasperating and a few other words I don’t use online.

    • this is spot on Mary … my elderly Mom often helps feed even more elderly people in a housing unit attached to the place where she lives (she’s in a self-sufficient apt complex still); she is forever saying how she would rather be dead than be one of those with the empty eyes – no quality of life as far as she is concerned … no wonder she wears a DNR necklace and has the signs plastered all around her place … can’t say as I blame her … good poem

      from what claudsy said in her comment, she and my Mom share some kindred thoughts …

  18. “Spring Training”

    A broken soul taunts no man to pleasure
    and it pains me that you refuse the healing salve of beauty
    sputtering instead among fields of dust

    way out there where boys lose homeruns
    off cracked bats that splinter in their hands, dull red
    threads fringed, ball jacket flapping loose

    in orbit. Did you chase the balls into the
    outfield then jump over the fence or did they follow you to
    your early grave where you buried yourself

    in pity? Even Jesus needed a garden and you
    ain’t no god nor mystic nor nimbus. If you remain long
    enough, years even, the balls will decay into

    layers of cork and wool and cowhide. I’ll come
    and blow sunflower seeds from the infield during the spring
    rains then plant your cleats on third base,

    your cap on first, and your mitt at home
    where beauty will be waiting to heal your soul and to taunt
    you once again with life’s pleasures and joys.

    # # #

    The first line is taken from April 2012 PAD.
    Can be seen here:
    Date: Ap. 12, 2012

  19. Striking of Time

    Time and again,
    the grandfather clock
    seemed to say,
    with each chime struck
    throughout the day.

    True and faithful
    tones resounded.
    At the strike of one,
    he recalled that long ago,
    he was young.

    Time and again
    `til the clock chimed four.
    He looked back at the girls
    in his life; he married late,
    but oh, what pearls.

    The pendulum swung
    the hour, six chimes,
    the same amount of gin
    and tonics he could drink
    in mid years, with double chin.

    Time and again
    ting, ting, ting–ting, ting, ting,
    plus six more rings,
    making it the midnight hour.
    He laughed, regretting not a thing.

    (Believe it or not, I cannot find the poem, but it is on this site.)

  20. Better late than never! Marie and Walt, great start for us from both of you, and hard to find the right poem to use, but here I am and here it is.

    Longing Becomes Art (also for Riley)

    Longing becomes art.
    Art becomes enjoyment.
    Enjoyment becomes shows.
    Shows become employment.

    Employment because aaaargh!
    Aaaargh becomes strain.
    Strain becomes I Need A Vacation
    For My Addled Brain.

    Brain senses loss.
    Loss becomes lack.
    Lack of inspiration.
    Inspiration slack.

    Slacking, she wonders,
    where did it start?
    Time gives her longing.
    Longing becomes art.

    © 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
    The first line is from “Artistic,” about my daughter, Riley. The final line was, “Longing becomes art.” To see the original poem, head to this link,

  21. Walt honored my poem “Purple Candle” with a Beautiful Bloom on January 28th.
    The poem ends with the line, “the stub of the dark purple taper.”
    Here is a new beginning. The original poem can be found at this link:

    _______________Purple Candle Legacy____________

    __________The stub of the dark purple taper_________
    ___________told a tale of a spirit that will live_________
    __________on forever. It could remember the________
    _________day it came alive and the ice began________
    __________to melt, when it stood tall and had________
    __________such a firm hold on the candlestick._______

    __________Such it was that its flame flourished_______
    ____________thru the initial burn as the wind_________
    ____________over the waters brought ripples_________
    __________and the wax began to find its home_______
    _________clinging to and strengthening its base.______

    ________Waters warmed and rolled as the flame______
    _______grew hotter and the wax to began to drip______
    __________down on to the fluted brass holder________
    ___________it had grown to trust and cherish.________
    _________It burned brighter than ever as it knew______
    ________of its purpose and respected its destiny._____

    _________Waters heated with a surface of glass______
    ____________as it continued to burn brightly._________
    __________There was nothing it could not see________
    ____________in the room that had chosen it__________
    __________for such an admirable task as this.________

    _______The stub looked around at the hardening______
    _______water and the cooling pool of flowing wax______
    ______surrounding it, dripping down and encasing_____
    _____the candlestick and onto the table in a blanket____
    ___of permanence it knew that its legacy was forever.___
    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!By Michael Grove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  22. Pingback: From Every Ending Comes A Beginning « echoes from the silence


    memories unknown
    tug at her words…and her heart…
    at what had been hidden inside
    your tin can; please…
    so different than reality;
    he didn’t make it
    than this lonely, broken heart can spare
    of our memories;
    complete without it,
    the reason
    they stopped coming
    I still know all of my letters

    I welcome God’s words: For I know the plans I have for you
    for falling in love,
    my soulmate, my wife;
    never: give up,
    to be rushed…

    I’m walking alone
    …afraid someone will read between the lines and see my tears

    You have moved…backwards,
    and took a walk in the park
    I miss you.
    There’s just one YOU!

    the Lord is my Shepherd
    is the Giver of such gifts;
    we reap the Spirit’s sweet fruit
    their lives will create
    once again;
    His world fades to black
    neither at midnight, nor noon
    to give you life…
    that I trust will shine on my world once more

    it’s simple, really:
    enjoy days of spring,
    bask in His presence
    seen in each spring bloom
    and watered daily

    to help you see it
    I come back to write
    of farm living…
    the magic of another Christmas Eve
    on which I sleep…
    and favorite superhero underwear

    and a writer was born

    P. Wanken

    Rather than choosing one line from one poem, I decided to make this a Cento made up of the last line of the poem I wrote for each of the 51 prompts. (Although I left out one I just couldn’t fit in anywhere, so there are only 50 lines.)

    This was my first attempt at a Cento…and I have a few hairs left in my head!

  24. I have to say that I’m so impressed with all of the poems that have blossomed from this prompt! And a huge thanks to Marie and Walt for this one, I think this may become a regular trick in my poetic toolbag for sparking inspiration! 🙂

  25. Ditto Mary’s comment – this was an inspired prompt … thank you master and mistress gardener for this, and for all the rest you have done for us … Congratulations in advance of your upcoming one year anniversary – it is this coming week, correct? I think we should award bouquets of blooms to you both this week!

  26. Fishing

    Releasing this catch
    was easy,
    no real thought involved.
    I felt a tad guilty for throwing out the lure
    but when I started to reel him in
    and things started to smell a bit fishy,
    I knew it was time to let him go.
    There’s a lot more fish in the sea.

    {Taken from my short anti-love poem posted at the Poetic Asides Website on Tuesday, April 24, 2012}

  27. As the stars in their forever, deep, abiding sky.
    {Last line of poem ” Watching the meteor Showers”)

    As the stars in their forever, deep, abing sky
    travel their time owrn trails like the sun
    rises and sets, so we on earth will journey ,too
    Rarely spectacular, from home to school before we have begun
    to explore our area of earth, sometimes to know it well
    to start a family of our own some girls will plan
    the life led by their mother, grandmothers, an age old tale spun
    from romantic interludes with handsome heroes sweeping
    them off their feetl Sometimes all ends well, most learn to take
    the bitter with the sweet.
    Life goes on and well it must, we learn how to survive
    to nurture each new life, to teach it and to complete
    the circle of life that each living being passes through
    to conquer fears and weakness, to make a dream come true.

    • Loved: “…we learn how to survive to nurture each new life, to teach it and to complete the circle of life that each living being passes through to conquer fears and weakness…” !

  28. I will have to get back next week to comment on the fragrant blossoms above…but just a quick post of my effort below for now.
    (Loved this prompt, it got me to reviewing old pieces, and I was amazed at how things I’ve learned caused me to edit some of them.)

    First line is the last line from a poem from about 13 years ago, written while I sat watching my cat. It’s posted at my site on my Poetry page as a post… .


    Glimpses of eternal skies
    have kept my faith unclouded.
    But darkened skies, inside my mind,
    confess my heart has doubted.

    I know that when the windows in
    my days are opened wide,
    I must jump to the sill to see
    what might be there outside.

    My cat has taught me this, I know,
    but God caused me to learn
    that for my life beyond the pane
    my curious heart will yearn.

  29. Pingback: Come and Get Your Friday Freeforall « Margo Roby: Wordgathering

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