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


We drag this prompt out of the trunk every so often. We’ve asked for a line from your favorite poem, a lyric from a song… today, we ask you to take the title of a favorite movie or television program you enjoy and use that for the title of your poem. Then write the poem. We are not asking for a synopsis of the movie/show, but something to take us completely by surprise. Even if you don’t watch a lot of TV or go to many movies now, there must be something that has touched you on the level. Write it and as always, next Saturday Marie and I will honor two poems from our growing list of favorite poet/gardeners.


(To the tune of That’s Amore)

If you hit-a my eye
With a big-a pizza pie,
That’s a law suit.

Though the moon makes me swoon
Poke-a my eye out, you lune,
That’s a law suit.

‘scusa me, but you see,
If you mess with Marie
That’s a law suit!

(Just kiddin’!)



A well pitched woo
and me and you across
ways from one another.
There is no other that draws
my attention like you
and, it’s true we used to
do this more often,
but friend this unexpected
tryst is just what the doctor ordered.
It borders on shmaltz,
but this is Walt’s time to shine.
“Would you like some more wine?”
It’s about time we’ve stopped
and smelled the roses.

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375 thoughts on “PLAYING FAVORITES…AGAIN – PROMPT # 54

  1. The Mask

    It cannot be removed
    with soap and water
    or a gentle tug. Prying
    doesn’t work either.

    Having gone too far it has
    become a part of you now,
    grown rigid and conformed
    to gentle contours and taken

    your shape as its’ own. Thru the
    hollow slits and beyond a gray
    emptiness that stares back at me
    I can still see the tears in your eyes.

    By Michael Grove

  2. Marie, that is so cute! Walt, the quilt on my bed is entitled Days of Wine and Roses, so you hit a chord with me. I shall go away and think, but I’ve already written three poems today , so I may be some time.

  3. Madison Bridges
    (Inspired by the movie)

    The movie stirred my heart
    Of a love that had to part
    Knowing of the fight
    Only silences the night
    The forbidden love
    Unleashed the hidden dove
    Enabling it to have flight
    Within the quiet memories of plight
    Knowing that it is right to part
    Keeping it’s memories within the heart
    Until their death
    Frees their souls
    Never more to part
    Ellenelizabeth Cernek-Kashk


    The land of wheels of thunder and lightening
    got caught up with reality
    with something much more frightening
    and so hard for me to see.

    I open my eyes so unwillingly
    on the 23rd of July
    the killing was all over me
    in that world I would deny..

    What candle on the earth is enough to lit?

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      This is an interesting line, Andrea: “The land of wheels of thunder and lightening got caught up with reality…” though I am not familiar with the movie.

    • Poignantly captured, Andrea.

      • Hannah and Hen, I guess that your attitude is what I describe here. On the 22nd of July I closed my tv because the tragedy was on all the channels – the horrible images from Oslo and Ütoya. But I’m kind of addicted to the news so on the 23rd of July I saw these news again only like a movie because how am I to understand what happened? Now, and for around a month, the trial has been broadcasted alive. I guess we are all amazed by the Norwegian prosecutor who so clearly conveys each victim’s story. We have watched the killer, a Christian fanatic, who in the name of God wanted to clean Norway from what he thinks are wrong believers. We also followed the relatives, the parents, and what else could we do than watch this? We did light the candles and we did put on the Norwegian flag on our Facebook pictures last summer.
        In my case I wrote this poem about the news I simply must see.

        • Andrea – my heart goes out to you over this and hits home oddly as well. Last July when my husband and I were on the archaeological dig in southern Italy with approx 60 students, one third of them were from Norway … I sat with a young supervisor while that mad-man was doing his killing and this poor young guy was being texted by a friend from the island. It was one of the most horrific things I’ve ever witnessed and I was quite literally a bystander. The friend doing the texting is one of the kids who ended up jumping into that frigid water to try and escape and was never found. As awful as that event was, the thing that struck me most was how many of the Norwegian students kept saying, perfectly stunned, how they didn’t even have laws to address such atrocities really because nothing like this had ever happened there before. I couldn’t imagine such heartache … or such innocence. Thank you for your poem. I especially love the final line …

          • It’s true that we don’t have the legislation for this – but we do have for murder. And that’s what we use – 69 young people were lost on that island that day. 69!
            And in Oslo 8 people lost their lives.
            Sharon, your comments touch my heart. I know that the poem is not the best I have written but that was what I could do today to say: Hello world! Please be careful with your Christian words!

        • I know some news is impossible to miss because it is HUGE and like you say how can you not watch it. It is so very beautiful that you all lit candles and displayed flags, these kind of sentiments are such important symbols of love especially when we cannot physically do anything else about the mess.

          I’m sorry, and not from me but from a deeper place outside of me, for all of these really tragic things that happen. It shouldn’t be this way. Thank you, for sharing your memory of this time that you’ve had impressed upon you, whether you wanted it to be or not.

          I can only say for myself here that regular news that I can avoid, negative especially, I do but I understand how some news like the towers of 911 sort of news cannot be avoided.

          Warm smiles to you, Andrea, I hope you had a nice day today. 🙂

        • Henrietta Choplin on said:

          Yes, Andrea, you coped with the situation really well… by writing a poem about it. It is a healthy way to live.

          Through writing, dancing, and singing (mostly alone), I move through my
          life’s ups and downs. 🙂

    • after reading the replies, I searched for news story – one photo bringing the day back when we sat stunned and so sad for that faraway land – poem affords us a chace to be touched again by this sorrow

    • Andrea, this poem is so well written that, without knowing the event I still felt the horror!

      • And also thank you so much.. Please see my comments above – and I forgot to add that Denmark and Norway are strongly connected (we also lost a Danish citizen up there that day).

    • This piece goes so deep. Thought provoking for sure.

    • Poetic Bloomings on said:

      As a lover of Christ, it saddens me to my core to hear of such violent acts against innocent people, committed by “christians.” This does not represent Jesus, His teachings, nor His example. All it does is soil His name, and break my heart.

      Your words are beautiful, Andrea. Bless your heart.

      Marie Elena

      • My heart is out to you as well, Andrea, and your whole country. What an horrific act. As Marie said, (I call them) “psuedo-Christians” believe in everything from “just war” to carnage simply because one does not believe in their particular, narrow brand of religion. Jesus didn’t just say “love God and love your neighbor (meaning everyone on earth) as yourself,” Jesus also said, “PRAY for your enemies.” If you must perceive someone as your enemy, how is that loving them in the first place? But I digress… Love, AMy

        • Poetic Bloomings on said:

          Amen, Ames. And how do we love ourselves? We care for ourselves. ’nuff said.

          Marie Elena

      • Marjory M thompson on said:

        Yes, Christ was NOT in that demonstration of injustice. I am sure that the devil laughed to see just misplacement of blame. I am so sorry, so sorry for so much un-necessary lose of life and innocence.

      • Amy, Marie and Marjory, your voices state so well, the Truth. ❤

      • The Church of Norway dealt with this issue in honoring the victims. So did the Church of Sweden and the Church of Denmark. We’re protestants.

      • The fanatic killing scenario is as old as time. I wrote a poem http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2012/04/16/warum/ some years ago wondering why do/did different groups of people – christians, jews, muslims and others kill in the name of their God – a God who said Thou Shalt Not Kill.

    • Stunning poem which must have clawed at your guts to write. I try to take the news in small doses as well. So little of it is optimistic or inspiring anymore.

      • You’re Sara, right? I hope Marie Elean will interview you soon because I so easily get mixed up in names and I really would like to know your name. And thank you so much and yes, I just wrote this poem so quickly and just pressed the button and hoped for the best. So I know I probably could have done better but as you say, it was hard to write – we kind of don’t know what to say and in my case, I’m also so scared to say something inappropriate. Thank you so much for your words and yes.

  5. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Meg! I laughed out loud, Thank you! Walt, yours was so sweet… !


    ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Their heads are green,
    and their hands are blue,
    and they went to sea in a sieve.
    Laying eggs inside a paper bag,
    the reason you will no doubt see,
    to keep the lightning out, all mimsy
    were the borogoves.

    A few of my favourites wrapped in this centos poem, borrowing lines from other poems to create a new one. These lines were borrowed from Morgenstern’s Das Nasobēm, Christopher Isherwood from his Poems Past and Present, Edward Lear’s, The Jumblies, Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky.

  7. ~OFF THE MAP~

    Often this slipping to the edges,
    releasing deep steam of earth
    requires letting lines dissolve;
    disappearing into an ocean,
    offering one’s body to the expanse
    Empty/full place of nothing-ness.
    Latitudinal, longitudinal boundaries
    break free from their invisible seams,
    one would forget their reflection
    If it weren’t for the still point;
    pooled dark water unbroken,
    just waiting for a tepid touch
    confirming one’s desire to care.
    A simple soulful finger dipped,
    a distinct dispersal of water,
    this unique creative expression,
    of concentric circles swelling;
    realizing themselves only when
    they embrace the shifting sphere
    singularly set to motion
    by someone who’s likeness lingers long
    lengths of reality reaching
    not much different than one’s own.
    Every wrinkle reveals a choice
    each decision deeply felt by the whole.
    One can choose to lend a tender meeting,
    concentrically reverberating richly,
    emotively across this single surface;
    each a person, every ripple a choice.
    If every common axis cohered,
    if each middle point persevered,
    Love could be so very far-reaching.

    © H.G. @ P.B. 5/6/12

    “Off The Map” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332285/
    This one is great if anyone’s looking for a good movie. I watched it years ago, it’s one that has stuck with me on may levels.

  8. Happy Sunday poetical peeps! I’ll be back, crafting took l o n g e r than I expected this morning and left me with little time! BIG smiles!

    So glad to see all the writing here this morning!

  9. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    (Japanese Lantern form – I LOVE this form, especially it’s title!)

    Jim Henson’s

    long and
    winding road
    that leads to your

    (With a thank you to The Beatles).

    • THIS is one of my favorite movies, too, Hen!!

    • Blending the Lantern, Jim Henson and the Beatles… wow

    • Oh, thank you Hen. “The long and winding road” was what saved me again and again on the Camino down in Spain where I had to walk hundreds of kilometers. It came to my mind and I always imagined a door.

      • I LOVE that yo did this, Andrea!! I just watched the movie, “The Way,” on netflix the other day. It was good, I thought of your mention of this and imagined you in the places along the way. I’d love to do that someday. Just walk. No pressing plans or set schedule, just walking and contemplating. So many people to meet or the choice to walk alone. Have you written about this yet, Andrea?


        • I haven’t seen the movie, “The Way” yet. Only I have heard that the theme is about a father and his son. Most Camino books are about a father and a son or an older man mentoring a younger man. What was so incredible funny for me walking the Camino – was that we were so many women on the trails and roads. Sometimes you should be lucky to meet a man anywhere. Well, I was unlucky to be lost from my Danish friend who had the maps and wanted to go there – but I was so lucky to meet some great people, “my pilgrim family,” who are both men and women and they are from Australia, New Zealand, 5 countries in Europe and from Canada. We also met pilgrims from all around the Christian world and also from the U.S. One we called “the anorexia pilgrim,” one we called: “She, who you must be obeyed.” and “The Texas pilgrim.” – very interesting people, only they walked their own Caminos.
          My Camino family stuck together so we were sure to get beds on the destinations and also we shared the same humor which means I guess I never laughed so much in my entire life.
          I’ve written around 70,000 words about it and my dream is to have our story published some day – only it needs some more polishing. I’d be honored if I can send you our Camino book one day.

          • I would relish in each of the 70,000 words, Andrea!! Your story sounds like such a great time. I’m so inspired by your reply and I look forward to this book BIG-time!! Thank you, Andrea!

          • Hannah, please, I beg you on my pilgrim knees – go to Flashy Fiction and read the story I put under yesterday’s prompt (the one with the shoes). That’s an excerpt of my 70,000 words notes – and please, say something.
            Don’t worry it’s short.

          • Sorry, I forgot to say: There I give you a flash of a day on the Camino – and of course I’d love any comments. You see I never published this anywhere. They are my fist writings in English.
            Especially considering this piece I love whatever response that I can get – because should I go for it? Who cares to read a Camino book by a woman in English by a Dane?

      • Henrietta Choplin on said:

        It would be incredible to take that walk some day, Andrea; I am glad that my little lantern lit a memory for you. :)!

        • Hen, I hope you’ll get the chance and please remember to write to me before you leave. I know all there is to know about blisters and remedies (and I do not recommend the Danish or the American – I recommend the Dutch which is also the Australian). So many men walk far to fast, get blisters, get infection and don’t succeed. Women are more open to other remedies and they don’t walk so fast which make them complete. Only if you really want to walk 25 to 30 kilometers per day for a month, please call me. Or at least promise to get some soft gaze!

          • Henrietta Choplin on said:

            Oh, thank you, Andrea! I will definitely keep in touch! My sister-in-law is from Spain. 🙂

  10. Jacqueline Casey on said:

    “Dark Victory” (an old Bette Davis movie)

    Bending in her garden, shading her eyes,
    Her tulips knew her; it was no surprise…
    “Why so dark , my friends, clouds dimming my view?
    Maybe rain is coming…my skin feels cold, too.”
    Her roses knew the clouds had covered her sun
    They knew it as warmth for her soul’s welcome.
    Time to drop garden gloves and climb the stair
    Accept the darkness. Her flowers aware;
    The marigolds had taught their ‘turning in’
    soon followed by glorious beginnings.

  11. Field of Dreams

    Beyond dawn of morn

    Before fade of all our years

    There our field of dreams

  12. connielpeters on said:

    Fly Away Home

    These fleeting days on earth go round and round
    And weeks fly by like speedsters down the track
    And even months pass in ways that astound
    And years shoot forth and never will come back

    And like contestants on cheesy game shows
    We race the clock trying to get things done
    And what we win nobody even knows
    So some suggest we’re in it for the fun

    A voice of love and reason softly calls
    And says the way has already been made
    From dawn of time He understood the falls
    And by His Son the price has all been paid

    Like honeybees so headed for their comb
    May we be ready to fly away home.

  13. Mr. Holland’s Opus

    Can you hear what they are saying, even though they do not speak?
    Do you really pay attention, and not just to critique?
    The posture and the attitude exudes messages quite clear.
    Are you focusing on them enough, so you can really hear?
    They do not make it easy, revealing what is within.
    You must be a detective; the line you walk is thin.
    Explore with much intention, be sincere upon your quest.
    If you are indifferent, you’ll not get to their best.
    Spend time learning their rhythm, the hidden melody.
    The gift of listening to them will be your legacy!

    © KED 2012

  14. enjoy the way the serious is contrast with absurdity – what we see or don’t see – even making me smile – rhyme work will with this


    Oh beauty bright in soft dawn light,
    The early sparrows sing.
    The flower’s glories tell garden stories
    To every living thing.
    No human word was ever heard
    To rival birds at wing.
    No deed or thought was ever wrought
    Quicker than nature’s sting..

  16. To Kill a Mocking Bird

    She taunts me,
    her pecking call
    digging into my soul,
    Hitchcock style.

    Cage the rage
    of my bully,
    and set free
    the sweet melodic,
    independent tone
    of my lifted wings.

  17. Lonesome Dove

    You awaken me with the sound of your sorrow
    Your soft keening – coo! Coo! Coo!
    Over and over again

    A pain with no remedy
    You mourn your lost homes
    Lost mates, lost children

    When I open the window
    The house fills with your misery
    And I begin t remember
    All that has been lost from my life
    Places never to be seen again
    Love ones lost – Where are they now?
    Tell me, tell me

    I would journey to your wild western prairie
    If I knew I would find them there
    But all I can do is join you in your song of mourning
    That soft, sad note
    Lonely, lonesome
    You, Dove and me.

  18. Miracles
    (A Pantoum)

    Miracles happen every day.
    Look around and you will see.
    There is love and there’s a way.
    Find forgiveness. Be set free.

    Look around and you will see
    a wondrous way to live.
    Find forgiveness. Be set free.
    Open up and give.

    A wondrous way to live
    with your light shining brightly.
    Open up and give.
    What’s in your heart please hold on tightly.

    With your light shining brightly
    there is love and there’s a way.
    What’s in your heart please hold on tightly.
    Miracles happen every day.

    By Michael Grove

  19. Pingback: Field of Dreams « Jpenstroke's Blog

  20. Oh, Marie — loved your title choice, and your poem, but… you’ll be hearing from my lawyer! LOL Walt — beautiful piece!

    Here’s mine offering: Combining your prompt, and my disappointment over last night’s “Super Moon” viewing, here in CT:

    Paper Moon

    No point in falling into the depths of Depression
    (though I feel like an orphaned child)
    I missed her (again) last night
    Conned by her paper promises,
    her cardboard and canvas cohorts,
    I waited patiently for her appearance,
    but I never caught a glimpse
    Her cloudy traveling companions kept us apart
    Still, I feel in my heart, she was real
    all the same

  21. Oh this is lovely … my feelings exactly; I woke in the middle of the night but Luna was too near setting by then to get a fix … you’ve summed up the feelings perfectly

    • Honestly? You too? Hmmph! Sorry for ALL of us who suffered with those darn cloud companions. :-)) (We had them here last year too!) Guess we’ll have to hold out hope for next year…?

  22. Poetic Bloomings on said:

    GOODNESS! Such amazing work already, and it isn’t even sundown yet! 😀

    Y’all ROCK!

    Marie Elena

  23. Thunderbirds

    The storm rages out at sea,
    lightening dances across the water
    and then heavens play a drum roll
    to put a massed pipe band to shame.
    Small furry mammals
    seek shelter,
    cats and dogs hide under beds,
    the lesser of our wing ‘ed friends
    take refuge in the trees
    and the flamingoes,
    who all day alternate from one leg
    to the other,
    telescopically slide folded to the ground,
    heads tucked in to the wings,
    as the storm reaches the shore…

    …the blue forks careen across the sands
    the drum roll is like a battle
    Kruper vs. Rich.
    The trees shake,
    the winds howl and chill the bones,
    the calm of a Mediterranean evening destroyed.
    The boats in the marina rock viciously
    as the crash and clamour rages on…

    …and on
    and out in the reserve
    the flamingoes sense the coming danger
    as one they lift
    as if by hydraulics
    to two feet and then en masse take to the air
    seeking safety on some inland water
    far from the madding tempest
    far from the howling gale
    5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

    …Thunderbirds are Go!


  24. Amadeus

    “One must not make oneself cheap here — that is a cardinal point — or else one is done. Whoever is most impertinent has the best chance.” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

    …’though I am cheeky,
    impudent and insolent,
    I am also this:
    a genius, a prodigy.
    Theater machen. I am.


  25. Out of Africa and The Way We Were

    For reasons obvious these movies bring me back to a place
    Romantic and I don’t mean because I want to go on safari
    With you but I know, and you do too, that we are so much
    The girl with the cause and the man who loved her

    Romantic, and I don’t mean because I want to go on safari
    But just your glance still has the power to stop my heart
    Me, the girl with the cause and you, the man who loves her
    Reminds me often the way we were is nothing to the way we are

    Cause just your glance still has the power to stop my heart
    With you, I know and you do too, that we are so much more
    Reminds me often the way we were is nothing to the way we are
    For reasons obvious these movies bring me back to a place romantic


  26. All About Eve

    “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” ~Margo Channing

    Darling, you haven’t got the knack
    for screwing me, so just turn back.
    Next time, I won’t be so polite.
    It’s gonna be a bumpy night.

    I’m older, wiser, Ingénue!
    You’re nothing but a parvenu.
    I’d watch my back. There’s no white knight.
    to get you through this bumpy night.

    And talent? You just think that you’re
    all that, and I’m a dinosaur?
    You’re wrong. A flash soon loses light.
    It’s gonna be a bumpy night.

    But you will see. They’ll turn on you.
    Remember, it’s the peer review
    that counts. No seatbelts on this flight.
    Good luck! Here’s to a bumpy night.


  27. My choice is so old that few people may remember it. The story concerned two very ordinary people who met on a station platform at intervals and fell in love. She had a dull but very worthy husband to whom she returned; he had a position in Africa to which he, also, returned. It was one of the most moving, heart-rending films I’ve ever seen. I particularly remember the scene in which the wife was sitting across from her husband, and they were either side of the fire. I think he was asleep in his chair. And her look spoke volumes.


    Life is full of brief encounters
    Ships that pass in the dead of night,
    A hand that’s brushed in a careless moment,
    A smile that’s brief and very slight.
    Life is full of lightning flashes,
    Blazing, then replaced by black,
    Glimpses in a shining window,
    Gone when we would wish them back.
    Conversations on a platform,
    Ended when the train arrives,
    Glances caught mid-conversation
    Revealing depths in others’ lives.
    We are ruled by brief encounters,
    Some of which we follow-through.
    Did we always back a winner?
    Did we simply just make-do?
    In those moments of nostalgia,
    Thinking of the ‘might have been’,
    Do we dream of brief encounters
    And do they still live, evergreen?

  28. Pingback: Dancing With The Stars « echoes from the silence


    the sun’s last rays
    grind into the horizon;
    emerging dots wink,
    a contrasting print against
    the clear cobalt sky,
    a chance alignment
    as night’s sounds vibrate,
    becoming the melody
    on which we hook our hearts

    P. Wanken

  30. Marjory M thompson on said:

    Dacning with your stars sounds wonderful.

  31. ATTN all WordPress users whose email boxes are being inundated with stupid reprints of comments. Remember, your followers are suffering the same problem, and I received about 40 emails from this site alone.

    See that “Notify me of follow-up comments via email” box below the comment window? See that it’s been checked FOR YOU? Here’s the fix. Hope all take heed, lest we lose our commenters! Love all the work, will poem later, but here is the link for my fix!! LOVE YOU ALL. Amy

  32. The Good Wife

    Model mother, perfect wife
    combined brains and beauty,
    in a good life, lived in a handsome
    house encircled by green growth
    of success.

    Model mother, perfect wife
    watched her husband’s ladder
    rise, and children move
    to pre-teen chatter. One day
    she listened to the sounds
    of an empty house.

    Model mother, perfect wife
    began to feel her life slipping
    by, as she recalled the career
    she had come so near achieving.
    A therapist, hah! She’d become
    the patient.

    Model mother, perfect wife
    took a lover to fill the hours.
    Caught by her son, ashamed,
    she hated herself for what
    she had done. Family crisis,
    parents split, tears shed.

    Model mother, perfect wife
    changed her life, sought
    what she thought her lost
    career, swallowed her fear,
    and got her degree. Now sharing
    custody, neither parent dared
    to speak of forgiveness. But she
    was happier without the title,
    model mother, perfect wife.

  33. Pingback: Wild in the Streets « Sharp Little Pencil

  34. NOTE: Movie explanation at end or poem…

    Wild in the Streets

    Those crazy Wisconsinites
    From Madison to Green Bay
    They’re getting ready
    The signs are up; protests continue

    Bikers now pump their tires full
    Those who walk are re-Scholling their shoes
    Unions are getting out the vote
    Churches are getting out the vote

    Raging Grannies are getting out the vote
    College students are getting out the vote
    The handicapped are all accessible:
    Teachers, farmers, union rank and file

    Families on public assistance
    People whose jobs were cut to give fat cats tax breaks
    Women in general
    (Hell, he doesn’t discriminate, he hates ALL of us)

    We’re jumping in the pool
    We’re jamming the polling places
    We’re ready to make our stand
    We’re gonna tell the Koch Brothers that


    And when we’re done, we’ll meet
    on State Street for some local brew
    Scott Walker, start packing now
    Save us the embarrassment of evicting you

    © 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
    For Sunday Scribblings (‘wild’) and for Poetic Bloomings, asking for poems based on a movie title.
    MOVIE REFERENCE: “Wild in the Streets” is a cult classic about a pop star who eventually gets into politics. Once he’s president, he mandates things like putting people in nursing homes on LSD. The movie’s a true a true stinker, but Gov. Scott Walker is about to be indicted on federal charges, so who really stinketh the most?

    • People don’t realize the divisive pain that we feel in WI. 100% in agreement with you, Amy. I lost more than $. I feel violated and devalued as a human. I marched in Madison, collected recall signatures, and I WILL be joining you to vote and take back our state!

      • this is not so much a political statement as it is a humanist one – with a little cheese on top…my godson and goddaughter have risked their necks and freedom for this cause, and I love them all the more for it…keep on writin’, my sharp little mind

  35. Whoa – ho – perfect pick for this true-to-life situation – what is that saying? You can’t make this stuff up? Pretty much, huh? Every time I think they’ve reached the lowest of the low, the out-bottom themselves. As Lily Tomlin likes to say, “No matter how cynical I get, I can’t keep up.” Some days that’s just too damned true.

  36. “Sandlot”

    “Baseball stories resemble wartime tales.
    Some are told as they actually happened.
    Others are told as we think they did.
    Regardless of the specifics, all of them are true.”
    — Dan Ewald

    It used to be
    that 7 year-olds
    could slip out of the house,
    just after dawn
    leaving behind tells
    (milk spilled on the table)
    (dirty bowl in the sink)
    for still sleeping parents,
    who would know
    (baseball bat missing)
        (glove too)
    that their son
    was doing nothing
    other than spending
    a glorious summer day
    as it was meant to be spent —
    under the sun
    on a makeshift ball field
    with all of the time
    in the world.

    • “You’re killing me, Smalls!” One of my absolute favorite baseball movies. I can relate, Chev!

    • Any baseball fan can appreciate this bit of brilliance … very cool

    • Marjory M thompson on said:

      I wish that we lived is such a way that more little boys go do just so.
      I’m love the memory of neighborhood baseball were all the kids (gals too) gathered to play workup. Thanks for the memory. 🙂

    • thanks so much…this is my life…well, my young life, that is…I tell you, I don’t live in the past, but those baseball memories are seductive…and I got to play sometimes with Warren Spahn and lew Burdette and Eddie Mathews…but that’s my story, not yours…great poem to evoke those kind of thoughts

    • Oh yes! Brings me right back to my childhood — when we had “all the time in the world”. Lovely piece, J!

    • GREAT!!! I spent Saturday afternoon at the Detroit Tigers game with Jana and both my kids. If I may use this space to confess my addiction, it is BASEBALL.

    • connielpeters on said:

      Jerry, love this one! So much in a few words.

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Having a ball game on tv, even if I can’t sit and watch the entire game, is very soothing and grounding to my soul and spirit! Brings back memories of childhood: ballgame on tv–Dad in his chair, Mom in the kitchen; my older brother chewing those sticks of gum that came wrapped with his piles of baseball cards, as he sat meticulously recording statistics, keeping one eye on the game; a softball game in our backyard with the neighborhood kids– little trees for bases… be careful! third base was an inground sprinkler…laughing when we WON! Oh, thank you for the memory!!! Hen

  37. Batman (or Robin’s Lament)

    I didn’t want to be
    a sidekick on this show.
    I can’t imagine who
    would take this role unless
    their agent told them to.

    I didn’t want to be
    remembered for the way
    I looked in yellow tights
    with cartoon words like “zonk!”
    appearing during fights.

    I didn’t want to be
    stuck riding shotgun with
    a guy dressed like a bat,
    smacking my gloved fist to
    say “Holy this-or-that!”

    I didn’t want to be
    Boy Wonder, I thought I’d
    play Hamlet. But now when
    this TV gig is up,
    I’ll never act again…

  38. “Persuasion”

    I feel as though my opinions
    Are blank slates marred only
    By neon letters proclaiming,
    “This space for rent,” and
    It takes only even the poorest
    Of sales pitches to convince me,
    Until my mind has some space
    To breathe.
    Other times
    I cannot be persuaded even when
    I already know I’m wrong, but
    Some ridiculous positions
    Have been so adamantly defended
    And are so dear that I feel as though
    I’ve made a home in them,
    And I have no wish to be

  39. Valentine’s Day

    Hoping we’ll be old coots,
    walking hand in hand,
    less so from affection than
    to help each other stand.

    Hoping we grow old together,
    sharing aches and ague,
    passing gas without apology,
    couldn’t hear that, could you?

    Hoping we’re the ancients we love now,
    some sagging, gravity the king,
    my hair white, yours still red,
    some vanity still reigning.

    Hoping we’re the elders,
    wise and otherwise.
    Time remaining all that matters,
    all arguments small-sized.

    If that future’s not ours,
    these days must fit our plans.
    Let’s use them up completely,
    in every way we can.

    Let’s eat unwisely, sometimes
    and drink more than is fair.
    We’re not rich but we can act so,
    at least one day each year.

    Today’s that day, for certain.
    Which other would we choose?
    You’ll always be my Valentine.
    You’ll always be my muse.

  40. Marjory M thompson on said:

    GONE… (a HexSonnetta)

    Sea waves loudly crashing
    on sand beaches I comb
    while wondering alone,
    watching, mindlessly floating
    with white seagulls dancing
    to the ocean’s deep tone.

    Spirit lifts with the breeze
    as water and sky blend
    gently blurring the end
    as each turns new ways
    knowing all our past days –
    Gone with the Wind – hearts mend.


    September is greeted with bated breath
    for the start of our annual dancing fix.
    Saturday nights-in take on new meaning
    as all invitations are refused
    to find us glued to ballroom scenes,
    of rivalry, slips, dramas and smiles,
    glamour in the briefest of costumes,
    hunky chaps and chunky dames.
    All the excitement chewed over and over
    next day with friends and all week
    at six on It Takes Two
    with earnest discussions about the lambada,
    the tango or somebody’s jive.
    Christmas comes as an anti-climax –
    it’s all over for another year –
    by Boxing Day we won’t even remember who won.

    The UK’s Strictly Come Dancing is the model for the US series Dancing with the Stars

    • So true! I don’t watch DWTS here in the U.S., but it feels to me as if you’ve described the whole crazy obsession of the fans who DO watch perfectly — right down to the forgetting of the winners shortly after the event is decided. Love the ending on this, Viv! :-))

    • the excitement chewed over – such good energy and fellowship evolving from our shared watching so nicely protrayed in this verse

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Ahh… but in those lovely moments, Viv, I was swept away…. :)!!!

  42. “The Deer Hunter”

    First time I heard about it from my father,
    He said he’d watched a really great movie,
    ‘twas one of those illegal pirate copies,
    When “everything American” was scarce.

    I asked if I could watch it, he said no,
    Not yet, he said, I’d have to grow up some.
    He said it’s violent, then he told my mother
    It had a most joyful opening scene.

    I could not get it: was it cruel or happy?
    It’s both he said. And it remained a mystery
    Till I grew up and for myself discovered
    A few perplexing things about life:

    I learned it could be murderous and bloody,
    Could overflow with happiness and laughter,
    Could ring with subtle tenderness and longing,
    And all we ever get is just one shot.

    • Poetic Bloomings on said:

      I haven’t read all of the poems and comments here yet … only a handful … but your title caught my eye, and I had to see what you did with it. I have yet to watch The Deer Hunter. My cousin who died (too young) in 2010 invited a few of us to his apartment to watch it many years ago. I couldn’t watch it. The intensity and cruelty of war is just too much for me.

      But your poem? Your poem is a thing of beauty.

      Marie Elena

      • Oh Marie, you’ve got to watch it. Just stay strong through the first war scene, and it’ll pull you in. It’s an incredible movie. The cast is outstanding. And there’s just so much life in it, and ultimately so much hope and beauty. I find that I watch it when things are not going too well. I say to myself that I’m just going to watch that opening scene my father loved so much. I always end up watching the whole movie, I cannot stop.

        • Having seen the play, I have never been in the right frame of mind to watch this film. Maybe, after reading your comments, I will reconsider.

          • Poetic Bloomings on said:

            I agree, Daniel. I want to try it again sometime, after reading Sasha’s comment above.

            Sasha, I’m just so stinkin’ sensitive to people hurting people or animals … especially when it is graphic and involves mind games, like how POWs are treated. I can’t handle it even in small doses. 😦


          • Give it a try, Daniel. I hope it won’t disappoint you.

          • Marie, you’d be surprised: I’m normally exactly the same way. And yet this one I can handle. I think just because it’s so good, and every bit in it is there for a reason.
            The war scenes are very graphic, but without them the story would have fallen apart.

      • I forgot to thank you for your words about my poem. Thank you, Marie!

    • I saw “Deer Hunter” many years ago, and I’m afraid that all I recall of it was the playing of Russian Roulette with a pistol. 😐 But, I’m with Marie on this — your poem IS a thing of beauty! 🙂

    • Your poem captures very closely what this movie took almost four hours (if I remember correctly) to show – it’s a powerful movie and one of the best about that era, in my view, as is your poem.

    • connielpeters on said:

      Nicely done. Great poem.

  43. I wrote this one a couple weeks ago for a PAD prompt at PA…it happened to use the title of a movie as the title of my poem. Thought I’d repost it here.


    before there was a clicker
    and a choice of three channels
    TV viewing was limited

    not a fan of Lawrence Welk
    or painting on public television
    Dad would resort to sports

    it was Ali, Kareem, Nicklaus,
    Staubach and even Secretariat
    who came into our living room

    I watched in fascination
    as the best of the best
    displayed finely honed skills

    today, when I watch,
    it is not a particular sport
    that captures my attention

    it is the athletes who show
    they are in it
    for their love of the game

    P. Wanken

  44. It’s a Wonderful Life
    (Found Poetry – Composed entirely with lines from the movie)

    I’ve got the key!
    I’ll love you ’til the day I die.
    No man is a failure who has friends.
    And all’s fair in love and war, right?

    Dear Father in heaven,
    I’m not a praying man,
    but if you’re up there
    and you can hear me
    show me the way…
    show me the way.

    Strange, isn’t it?
    Each man’s life touches
    so many other lives.
    When he isn’t around
    he leaves an awful hole,
    doesn’t he?

    Every time you hear a bell ring,
    it means that some angel’s
    just got his wings.

    By Michael Grove

  45. Pingback: Strictly Obsession | Vivinfrance's Blog

  46. A Paper Moon

    Yellow moon, bright beams
    that shone for me across
    glistening lakes and rising seas,

    dance along the crest of hills,
    lift my heavy heart, be swift,
    depart this gloom and sadness

    into the velvet night
    on golden celestial kisses
    and wishes on moon light.

  47. Late to the party.

    To Kill a Mockingbird

    you actually need two stones
    one for her head
    and one for her song
    because even after she
    is long dead, limp in her
    own fragile bones,
    it echoes
    lingers on.

    Sticks will work, too
    if you throw them
    just right, but if
    you’re not careful
    she’ll just gather them
    up and make a nest
    and laugh at you from
    the tallest branches,

    Names can harm,
    alarm, but not with
    any lasting venom; if
    you really want to watch
    feathers fly you must grasp
    something with weight,
    hold it cold in your hand
    and aim for her sky,
    and even then there’s a
    good chance she’ll escape
    up behind you and cry



  48. You’ve Lost That Lovin Feelin

    The Righteous Brothers sang this when I was young,
    But now I think it is my Lord’s song.
    He must look down on the earth and say,
    I’d get down on my knees for you
    If you would only love me like you used to do.
    So many words in this song point to lukewarm love
    And it seems so many have strayed away
    Loving ourselves more than the one who shaped
    Us in His own hands and placed us in the womb.
    We take credit for our gifts and accoclades,
    Not loving the one there for us throughout our days.
    When He reaches for us, do we run the other way,
    Lets bring it on back before it’s too late.

  49. I used Eowyn’s “I am no man” from LOTR and a reworked line from a poem I wrote last month.

    I Am No Man

    I am no man,
    And you are dust.
    Together we paint epic
    Stories inside cave walls.

    Primitive strokes speak
    Of panoramic conquests
    And contradictions
    From days gone long
    Before the blood has dried.

  50. I’m a little late to the party, but better late than never! This inspired something very different from me, but I think I like it!

    Big Daddy

    Where have you gone, big daddy?
    Why have you left me here alone?
    Where have you gone, big daddy?
    Why have you left me here all alone?
    Trying to go on without you baby
    Has turned my lonely heart to stone.

    You promised you’d always be here,
    Why’d you have to up and leave?
    Oh, you promised you’d always be here,
    Why’d you have to up and leave?
    I believed every word you said to me,
    Never thought you would deceive.

    My days have been filled with misery
    And my nights have been filled with tears.
    My days have been filled with misery
    And all my nights have been filled with tears.
    Instead of the warmth of your embrace,
    I find myself wrapped up in fears.

    I’m so tired of feeling let down,
    So tired of feeling betrayed.
    Oh yeah, I’m so tired of feeling let down,
    So tired feeling betrayed.
    It’s time to let go of this heartache,
    Time to let go of the love we made.

    I don’t care where you’ve gone, big daddy,
    And I hope you don’t come back again.
    I don’t care where you’ve gone, big daddy,
    And I hope you never come back again.
    This game is over, big daddy,
    And this time Mama’s gonna win.

  51. I just wanted to say that I have so liitle computer time these days it’s hard to find time to read and harder to make time to comment. But I do read when I can and throughly enjoy the work of so many great poets. Alsoi really appreciate comments directed my way. Thank you!


  52. Lost

    for the purposes of dramatic tension
    we need people to be Lost

    the creators Design a set piece
    where there is no cell reception

    miscommunication means People are
    not where they are supposed to be

    there is going to be no Rescue
    you are on your own

    or so they would have you believe
    as Act one unfolds the story

    but as the complications begin to Surface
    we see the relationships deepen

    and we begin to understand that
    we are not alone, we are not Lost

  53. claudsy on said:

    I haven’t had many moments this week to drop by to see the work and creativity done here this week. I hope to be able to read and comment later on those who’ve gone before, but I make no promises. Looking at my calendar, that would be unwise.

    I did want to try for at least one poem for the prompt, though, so please accept this off-the-cuff effort today.

    Being There

    When the mist rises from grass gone emerald,
    And sultry echoes of former glories whisper,
    I’ll remember these halcyon days of just being there.

    When young ones play with their blankets heavy,
    And breakfast smells more inviting than home,
    I’ll remember that this was a gift, this being there.

    And when these glorious days amid summer blossoms
    Passes into the mists of memories fades as old wallpaper,
    I’ll remember the gentleness of voices in the night,

    And your presence each time I ventured into being there.

  54. Pingback: Prompted Wednesdays: Of Pretenders, Chameleons and Travelers « Through the Eyes of Meena Rose

  55. The Pretender
    By: Meena Rose

    Jared enthralled me and amazed me
    With his brilliance extraordinaire,
    His compassion for the weak;
    His convictions.

    Shocked and awed when someone said
    “You are just like Jared,
    The Pretender.”

    I thought on that for a long moment
    Wondering if endless hours of playing
    At dress up did the trick,

    Or, walking endless miles in
    Someone else’s shoes, or
    Perhaps it was my uncanny

    Ability to learn and relate
    To the world; my curse,
    My blessing, my synesthesia.

    • claudsy on said:

      It could be a combination of all of these elements, my friend. Lovely poem.

      • On my site they are all posted together… That triad had to be on the same post for a reason. It is our human nature when asking why (at least my human nature), to seek out ONE reason/ONE cause… Too many years in engineering hunting for root cause.

        • claudsy on said:

          I can understand that. With Sociology and Psych, it was always a matter of what factors influences this effect.

  56. Alias
    By: Meena Rose

    Who shall I be today?
    How will they call me?
    Will they uncover my identity?

    I slither, slip and slide;
    Lithe and evasive, I transform
    To meet the need.

    Buried in labels I am safe:
    Mother, Daughter, Sister,
    Friend, Writer, Poet.

    There is no need to worry,
    My identity is secure,
    It is even hidden from me.

  57. Stargate
    By: Meena Rose

    Perhaps they built it and
    Hid it and made it a national

    I do not need it; I slip
    And slide, my dreamscape
    Is my playground.

    I have gazed upon the heavens,
    Witnessed the passing rituals
    Of a once blazing star;

    I have been privy to the
    Birth of a new galaxy,
    Mingled with its peoples;

    Sharing what befell our home,
    May they have the chance to
    Learn from our planet.

    We did not.

  58. “Princess Bride”

    I do not think that word means what you
    think it means, you say to me.

    But, that’s inconceivable, I say with a huff.

    I say love
    means chocolate miracles and storming castles
    and perfect breasts and surviving the Forest with
    Rodents of Unusually Large Size hand-in-hand.

    and love
    means you will always come for me.
    and love,

    my Love,
    cannot be broken by a thousand words.

    True love
    is the greatest thing in the world.

    No, my Love, I believe it is you who does not
    know what that word means, I say with my
    dreamy eyes.

    You say,
    if you think it is the greatest
    thing in the world then it is the greatest thing
    in the world.

    And with your own dreamy eyes,
    I see you say—as you wish.

    But with your mouth,
    I hear—

    except for perhaps, a nice mutton, lettuce
    and tomato sandwich where the mutton is
    nice and lean and the tomato is ripe.

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