One of our most popular prompts was presented during week #38, and we are reprising it for our ever-expanding poet base. The concept was this simple: Take that “I wish I had written that” line from one of the poems posted at Poetic Bloomings, and for the moment, make it your own … as the title of a totally new poem. But, be sure to credit the poet and poem from which it came. Have fun!
MARIE ELENA’S BORROWED LINE:
COMMAS DON’T SCARE ME
No hooked little mark
Will catch me off guard.
No comma faux pas
Will, leave my poem marred.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
From Nancy Posey’s Uncertainty poem Within and Beyond my Grasp
WALT’S SECOND CHANCE:
SAVED FOR SOMETIME DREAMS
A vacation in the South of France,
a chance to dance unencumbered
on the Champs-Élysées on a day
so blue we can’t help but be happy.
A day to be illness free; no trick knee,
no blocked artery, just a day…
where dark spots go away from x-rays,
a chance to verbalize emotions that are assumed.
A ticket with every number needed
to exceed my earnings in this lifetime
all in one inspired evening, leaving
everything behind to find my peace of mind.
A home to house this ever-expanding
empty nest, the best place to have raised daughters,
but we ought to lose the excess
and express ourselves more simply.
Success for those daughters to achieve
all which they aspire to and to view
the world through less cynical eyes;
this prize of life so garnished. Untarnished.
The end of conflicts where friends and enemies
stick out a hand and come to understand
what seems too good to be true; to eschew
the terrors of wars; to abhor them.
The opportunity to view these things in a life well lived
and to be forgiven for indiscretions and errors
in judgement, putting priorities in proper perspective,
rejecting all attempts to temp my loving temperament.
A night full of nothing but sleep to foster these dreams,
without the anemic schemes of a torn
and twisted psyche. It might be the greatest wish
on this dish of savory favors saved for sometime.
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012
Line culled from Marie Elena Good’s Uncertainty poem – DEMENTIA
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
(from Jane Shlensky’s “Rain-Born”)
“They lap at water-wonder and wait
for skies of blue, returned from slate,
for lamb clouds grazing at the gate
of heaven,…”
Cinquain:(2,4,6,8,2)
Rainbows:
God’s promised gold
with lamb clouds grazing at
the gate of heaven hold the key
to love.
Beautiful images, lovely words, Thank you!
Ooh. Thanks, Jacqueline, for putting those lambs back in the sky. A lovely cinquain.
Hey, Marie Elena, Should the line not be: ” Hey, that’s my line, too!”
Did you really mean to write “TWO”?
I think she did mean two as in this is the second time the prompt has been given….
You got it, unevensteven – a play on words. And this is Walt’s prompt. He’s baaaaa-aaaack! 😀
Marie Elena
“When the words slip free
rain through fingers…”
“Will it be a downhill slide
or a lengthy uphill climb
as the ticking of the clocks
steal away your precious time?”
This slip-n-slide
relationship
wet with unspoken
and implied
meanings and tears –
you say
we should just keep making strides,
giants tripping on stones
all around us,
I say
we twist
and turn
like otters
busting
the shells of doubts
in our bellies
and should you fall,
crawl down
next to me
and my words will slip
free
rain through fingers
sliding down
your face
showering
you clean,
I only meant
to hold onto them
for you
anyways
Pleae visit my blog http://unevenstevencu.blogspot.com/
When the words slip free
rain through fingers
by whimsygizmo – Etymology – Uncertainty #63 Prompt
Will it be a downhill slide
or a lengthy upward climb
as the ticking of the clocks
steal away your precious time?
By Michale Grove – Precious Time – Uncertainty #63 prompt
The one big problem with posting on comments – can’t revise easily
already have a revised version – if interested it’s here
http://unevenstevencu.blogspot.com/
Loved: “… crawl down next to me and my words will slip free
rain through fingers sliding down your face showering you clean…”
Really sorry posted too early when I wasn’t finished –
Here is a more acceptable version
thanks
“When the words slip free
rain through fingers…”
“Will it be a downhill slide
or a lengthy uphill climb
as the ticking of the clocks
steal away your precious time?”
This slip-n-slide
relationship
wet with unspoken
and implied
meanings and tears –
you say
we should just keep making strides,
giants tripping on stones
all around us,
I say
we twist
and turn
like otters
bursting
the shells of doubts
in our bellies
and if we fall,
lay down
beside me
and my words will slip
free
rain through fingers
sliding down
your face
showering
you clean –
you see,
I really only
meant
to hold on
until I found
my way
back
to you.
When the words slip free
rain through fingers
by whimsygizmo – Etymology – Uncertainty #63 Prompt
Will it be a downhill slide
or a lengthy upward climb
as the ticking of the clocks
steal away your precious time?
By Michale Grove – Precious Time – Uncertainty #63 prompt
nice use of two beautiful pieces, steven. I especially loved your closure. Nice job.
Nice work Steven. I’m honored that you used my stanza.
These two wonderful pieces are nicely woven together, Steven. I’m also quite fond of De’s line, which I think is very inspirational.
Dear Walt, I wish you: “…A night full of nothing but sleep to foster these dreams…”! Meg, so cute, when I think of the little comma.
(from my own: I FELT THE EARTH MOVE…..UNDER MY FEET)
How do I “unfeel” *
the movement of the Earth be-
low my cautious feet?
* is there such a word…. well, there is now… 🙂
(from Iain’s: “In the Dark”)
Cool, clear water
As quiet as your voice…
I sit staring into
it
Contemplating where to dip my toe.
Yes, indeed, this one is quite brilliant, Henrietta.
Why, thank you, Misky; I never would have guessed that!
Love what I’m seeing already this A.M.!!
Glad to see this prompt, Walt and your poem your heart poured on paper…a true gift.
Marie!! Love it!
Warm smiles to you both!!
🙂 …. !
Good morning, all! Yes, one of my favorites, too. Love what I’ve read so far.
I Would Find Something Small to Do That I Know Would Make a Difference
(Linda Swenski, Prompt 63)
God
who made
the size of the universe
absolutely mindboggling,
made it up of equally astounding smallness.
Wisdom can be drawn from anything God does—
to accomplish big dreams, start with something small.
This is wonderful. I shall try to remember the advice.
… oh, yes…
… and this small word package is greatly profound.
meg
[…] partial cento poem, I have strayed from the brief to use only one line from a Poetic Bloomings prompt as a title for a new poem. In my reading this morning I have come across far too many gems to […]
Besides that pingback, I swear I posted here an explanation of why I left it on my blog: I sinned – I borrowed lots of lines and the list of sources made it a very long post, so you will find it at http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2012/07/15/daisy-chain-of-memories/
You did, Viv… but you put it in the “Beautiful Blooms” comments instead of here. :-]
When uncertainty is the pen
My sure heart is soured
by my acid stomach
sluggishly digesting
your last lie, a stupid
one, unworthy of me.
My weary mind shuffles
through peaceful images:
waterfalls settling into pools,
rainbows roofing the sky,
waves crashing and smoothing
a beach at sunset, birds
feeding after rain, all
shadowed by the cynical
smirk you wear when you
think you’ve gotten away
with it again, when you
count on my caring more
than you do, when you
wait for and despise
my forgiveness, knowing
you don’t deserve it,
and I’m hoping for words
to save my life again,
to open a door for me
that will close crisply
behind you, for love
to be my lines, for hope to be
my harbor, for humor to be
my hand, for a poem to heal me,
when uncertainty is my pen.
From mike Maher’s “Uncertainty Ode”
Prompt 63
I share your love for mike’s line, Jane. You did it justice!
meg
Nicely done. A deeply touching poem.
I feel honored that you used my line, Jane. And you used it so well that I can no longer honestly call it my own. This line belongs to you now. This poem is astounding.
This line, in particular, might very well stay with me forever: “and I’m hoping for words
to save my life again”
Wonderful job.
Thank you all, Meg, Misky, mike, 3M of poesy and encouragement. mike, I’ll trade lines with you any time, my friend. I love this prompt, Meg.
Jane, beautiful poem. I love, rainbows roofing the sky.’
Yes, the lovely peaceful images: “…waterfalls settling into pools, rainbows roofing the sky, waves crashing and smoothing a beach at sunset…” It feels like I just returned from a mini vacation… thank you, Jane!
Street of Dreams (lines taken from Barbara Y.’s poem)
Moths around the street light
Guitar riffs trailing from a passing car
…
Shadows spread and darken
The children are called inside
You remain, lost in that moment
when those quick-passing notes
pierced your soul and grew until
your knew you could not hide
The melodies and the rhythm
Your fingers learned to fly
Called to more crowded cities
Bright lights that hid the sky
Strange words and stranger rhythms
Became old friends to you
When you followed that music
To a place where it was promised
Every dream came true.
Careful, little girl, someday these memories
Will awake. You will wonder what has
Happened to a place you knew
As quiet, loved and safe.
Where your soul became entranced
And from some stranger’s dreams
You were able
To pluck your own guitar and turn
Your dreams loose upon the world.
Everyone who shares the memories
And longings of your heart
That beats in rhythm with our
secret, dream time souls
And for a little while
are lost, then found again.
…
“A regular paycheck is an honored guest”
We take for granted a salary,
even a job that claims our lives,
pays our bills, provides food and
lodging, educations, transportation,
freedom from want and fear,
waiting instead for the sweepstakes
to sit at our table in the honor seat,
while we scream, accept the flowers
and pose for photographers as we
receive the unusual lucky sum,
hardly even remembering the usual,
the check that saves our lives
every day, the job that claims our time
and expertise, the profession that gets us
up in the morning and keeps us thinking,
the colleagues that see us at our best and
have our backs. Like lecherous old husbands,
we snuggle up to the voluptuous prize,
yelling at the old wife of sundry years,
present through sickness, family, and folly,
who has loved us through baldness, halitosis,
and flatulence, to bring coffee and make it snappy.
From Marian Veverka, “Living in an uncertain world”
This made me giggle ” who has loved us through baldness” …
… hee, hee, yes… “bring coffee and make it snappy.”
I’m using the line, “What if they Misunderstand me?” in Patricia A. Hawkenson’s poem, “That Wasn’t My intention” from prompt #63.
What if They Misunderstand Me?
What if they misunderstand me?
What if they can’t comprehend?
Will they bother to figure it out
when my days have come to an end?
I’d love to write a poem when I’m one hundred,
Even if my thoughts are scattered ’round.
I‘ll still hold out some hope posthumously
that the truer meanings may be found.
No one here can hold a pen forever.
Some day I’ll be a distant memory
I hope they will still read me when I’m gone.
But, what if they misunderstand me?
By Michael Grove
Oh, Michael… how could they EVER misunderstand your beautiful words?! :)!
Thank You so much Hen and thanks to Patricia for the line.
!!!!! 🙂 !!
Great take on emotions that ALL writers feel. Smiling that you used a line of mine. 🙂 I hope you DO write when you’re 101!
Great job, Mike. I almost borrowed the same line! 🙂
MIchael you took a great line and turned it into your own perfect poem.
Within this poem lies a great line to steal: “No one here can hold a pen forever. ”
Marie Elena
The end of conflicts where friends and enemies
find either each other or themselves
is right next to the place where the leftovers
make promises to ashes.
Bill gets to sleep every night by telling his wife
there is no such thing as death,
that we are only the imagination of ourselves inside of a dream
and, so, you know? She doesn’t.
Bennie says the real enemy is Digitalization
but you can see there that theory has flaws,
beauty marks so obvious and prominent
they are mistaken for freckles merged into other patches of freckles.
Rhea says no punk rockers have freckles. Not a fucking one.
Steve is always experimenting with new duck bacon recipes.
All poems talk about death at some point
and so it must be a thing
because poems never lie.
Mary says a high level of naivete works in your favor
in the next world, and so she doesn’t ever watch the news.
Whenever you’re ready, says the sailboat.
I never know where to go, says the dock.
When it comes time again to sprinkle the ashes,
whisper the truest feelings you can muster
and remember they cannot be unsprinkled.
Whoops. Just realized I forgot to include the citation! Here it is:
(title taken from Walt Wojtanik’s “SAVED FOR SOMETIME DREAMS,” which was a line taken from
Marie Elena Good’s Uncertainty poem – “DEMENTIA”)
“…where friends and enemies find either each other or themselves…” !!!
Today everything seems to have conspired to keep me from writing verse. But I’ve managed to get the first of my chosen pieces finished. I hope you enjoy it.
From Misky’s “A Seed in Her Ear”
“I Wondered if God Rested His Chin on Rooftops”
I Wondered if God Rested His Chin on Rooftops
As I watched clouds move in to hang
Above gatherings of angry people;
People who’d come to harass and
Harangue those who dared be different.
As I listened to vitriol spewed forth
Onto one who would not defend himself
Against the lash and the stone,
He sighed at the unenlightened.
I wept as I felt his pain radiate beyond
A body dealt terrible blows by hands
That would seem powerful though pitiful,
Under other circumstances of time.
I knelt as he took his place above all others;
A place meant for thieves and murderers,
Which would forever be known as Calvary,
The site of a Son placed before God,
To suffer for me that I might rise at death.
BTW, this was from prompt # 53. Thank you, Marilyn, for the loan of your wonderful words.
Oh my claudsy – this took my breath away …
Thank you so much. It makes me happy to know that you and so many others liked it, S.E.
Wow. Just, wow…
meg
Thanks, meg. It’s what I saw when I read the line. It seemed somehow appropriate. I’m glad you liked it.
I wish I’d written that!! 😀
You had a great hand in it, my friend. It was the first thing, a demanding thing, that flashed into my mind as I read the words. So you see, you did inspire all of it.
“.. I wept as I felt his pain…” Ohh… yes…
Oh, Henrietta. Thank you.
You are very welcome, Claudsy.
From Misky’s “The Language of Poetry” Prompt #53
“Layer on layer of Delicate Sounds”
Stillness hushes night’s slumber chamber,
weaving its sorcerer’s spell across land
weary from day’s labors and taunting life,
leaving behind smallnesses to tantilize a
mind with its layer on layer of delicate sounds.
Whispers sush, mice feet scurry along paths
worn into earth’s face, whipping grass stems
aside; speed provides safety, protects all.
Silence broken only by a squeal tiny
enough to rate only an eyeblink of notice.
Owl feeds while night hawk watches,
rustling and restless, needing bigger,
braver prey to grace his dining limb.
Cricket serenades lull the locals into
false hopes of passing dangers.
Breezes, gentled by trees’ waving wands,
Sigh across landscapes filled with nature’s
little people, cooling distressed and panting
runners, stroking fur with light air fingers,
and rippling still waters for leaping frogs.
Night folk have risen to live lives quietly
dark, within and without recesses never
lightened by sun rays, never dimpled
by man’s footprint among buttercups,
ferns, and tree trunks that make homes.
Beautiful job, Claudsy.
Yes…!!!
Thanks, ladies!
(Poetic Form: CENTO)
PEACEFUL THOUGHTS
Once in a blue moon
with lamb clouds grazing:
Dipping toes into sweet
cool, clear water…..
Tonight you stay
your presence, unseeing
wraps full around my being
your whisper in my ear…..
You’ll always be
my muse.
-With a thank you to: Pmwanken, Jane Shlensky, Jacqueline Casey, Claudsy, me, Marian J. Veverka, MMT, and Daniel Paicopulos.
I forgot to name the poems:
Pmwanken: “La Luna Blu”; Jane Shlensky/Jacqueline Casey: “Rain-Born”; Claudsy: “Restlessness”; me: “from Iain’s ‘In the Dark’ “; Marian J. Veverka: “A Lullaby for Modern Times”; MMT: “The Calming Wind”; and, last but not least, Daniel Paicopulos: “Valentines Card, 2010”
Ah…La Luna Blu. I’m glad to see it’s living on…
🙂
Oh! She had me at hello… ! Thank you for penning her!! 🙂
Cleverly stitched together! Well done.
Thank you, Misky!
A cento…a great use of the prompt! ❤
❤ … Yes… I just Love wrapping myself in "quilts" 🙂 !
nicely done Hen … just beautiful …
Thank you, Sharon, you’ve inspired me to write another one, so thank you. 🙂 !
Or… I should say you have encouraged me to Post another one that was previously “inspired” :D!
You can see why I recycled this prompt! It highlights anothers poem and give us a fresh inspiration. Everyone’ words are worthy and all that has been posted are marvelous! Thanks all. Walt
Hugs to you, Walt!
… and from across the lake as well.
M.E.
[…] at Poetic Bloomings, we have been asked to locate a “line” that has gripped us and use that line as the […]
http://2voices1song.com/2012/07/15/collegiately-inspired-take-2/
No Elixir Or Rewind
By: Meena Rose
The noisy cafe grew quiet;
All eyes were upon me;
A lapse of judgment or a lapse of memory –
I will never know which.
Source: In Hand by Mike Grove
drum & beater – unpainted (Photo credit: 19melissa68)
Spirit Drumming
By: Meena Rose
She entered the hall coughing,
The smell of burned sage
Caked on her throat.
She could hardly see past
Her watery eyes;
She walked straight through.
Some had gathered in a circle;
Some just milled about;
She froze.
Her feet refused to move;
Her toes dug into the earth;
A sense of surety cementing her resolve.
Inspired by a voice unheard,
She began to dance
Steadily stomping her feet.
The Earth called to her,
The Sun encouraged her,
An Eagle screeched overhead.
Source: A Fascinator by Claudette Young
Those last two stanzas: gorgeous!
Thank you, Henrietta
You did me proud, as always, my friend. This is more than beautiful.
Oh, those last two stanzas!
Thank you!
Very Nice use of my line as your title, Meena. It is one of my personal favorite lines. I’m honored that you chose to use it.
[…] Poetic Bloomings- […]
I borrowed Marie’s line,“As the sun slips beneath the water,”
from After Glow, a nonet from 11/16/11 In Form Poet..Free Form Form
As the Sun Slips Beneath the Water…
I’ll gather the glassy reflections of my day,
I’ll handle them prayerfully and sort them.
Cobalt blue, careless mistakes I made
set aside seeking forgiveness.
Red for words slipped-spent in anger
I bitterly remember,
with wish and will to do better.
Purple pile for the bruises
placed upon my core,
hurts harbored
intentional and otherwise.
Amber tints of disappointment,
dreams unfulfilled,
misplaced expectations.
Green glints of truth in nature
filling my heart and home
my mind and design,
reminding me of creativity.
Iridescent ivory, most pure beauty
moments not wasted,
each encouraging instant
in accordance with Love.
So as the sun slips beneath the water,
I gather the grains of Light,
I grasp gems that bring health
and fling far rocks that hold fear.
I trust and I release and wait
for it all to begin again
with burden on my heart
and rise of Son to comfort me;
I’ll be myself and try my best,
just being with a helpful heart.
©Hannah Gosselin 7/15/12
The late hour hinders me from attempting to begin enjoing the offerings today…a busy day indeed=Nephews fifth Birthday party today etc.!
Smiles to everyone and I’ll be back!! 🙂
*enjoying…of course!
How Fun is that! 😀 !
:)!
OMG!!!!! Hannah, dear friend, you are a genius!!! I loved all of this, especially: “…Iridescent ivory, most pure beauty moments not wasted, each encouraging instant in accordance with Love…”
Oh, Hen!! Thank you, SO much!! 🙂
Sweet Hannah, I’m honored to have such LOVELY words/sentiments attached to my line! Daniel Paicopulos is right: there are no ugly words in your dictionary. What a blessing you are!
Marie
Marie!! You warm my heart…such kindness flows from this and the sentiment that Daniel extended, too. I’ve such a grateful heart and am blessed by you, also!! ❤
❤ back!
Hi all! Just a reminder (lifted from our “Welcome”):
4. WHO MAY POST? Poetic Bloomings is open to all poets, regardless of skill level, point of view, OR AGE. As such, we encourage members to “keep it clean.”
Thanks! 😉
meg
Uh-oh, I musta missed something…
Just an f-bomb thrown a few times out here. Thought it was time to give a gentle nudge to remind folks to be careful.
I must have been reading with my bad right eye and missed them. Agreed. Let’s be careful out there! (Hey, is that the Hill Street Blues theme playing in the background?)
I hear it drifting across the lake as we speak. 😉
ME
[…] Poetic Bloomings Prompt #64 – “I wish I’d Said That” Rate this:Share this:TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestEmailLike this:LikeBe the first to like this. This entry was posted in Poetic Bloomings Sunday Prompt and tagged churchyard, graveyard, grief, willows.Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment […]
WILLOWS TREMBLED IN THE DYING LIGHT
Inspired by “SHADOWS ON THE WATER” by Mary Mansfield
Thirteen Widow Trees – ancient and adorned in grief,
Thirteen willows forlorn in tears they sank,
Thirteen widows standing guard
On the flooded river bank
In the old churchyard.
Thirteen willows pray to calm the grief,
Thirteen widows wading the river deep
Protecting the rest of those asleep
In the old graveyard.
Thirteen willows adorned and forlorn in grief
Thirteen widows weep in the dying light
Oh Misky, this just moved me to tears! Love the image you’ve created in this. I’m quite humbled that one of my lines led you to this magnificent poem…just gorgeous!
I found yours to be very inspiration, Mary. Thank you.
Love, love, love this one!
“…Thirteen willows forlorn in tears they sank,…” I can just see them now… I Love them!
From Walt’s “Love’s Longing”
(Alliterisen Poem)
“I stand in silent shadows”
I stand in silent shadows,
wildly wondering about a love lost.
One long hazy hope once
calligraphied in ink on a chilly
night. He held our poem, now
tarnished three decades, too delicate
to retrace, yet too refined
to sheathe as token shame.
I wonder if I have labored longing
in vain, if it should remain as vintage
love–lost in the silent shadows.
jlynn, this is one of the lines I considered using as well. I love what you did with it. A Walt and jlynn combo … how could it go wrong?
meg
Walt offered too many great lines. How could I not “steal” one from him? : )
That is so beautiful! Well done you.
Thank you, YOU!
Gorgeous: “…too delicate to retrace…”
Thanks, Hen!
“. . . the harmony of pleasure and of pain
Sweeps soulfully across the sea and land.” Janet’s Villianelle June 27
“The harmony of pleasure and pain”
The harmony of pleasure
and of pain, sweeps soulfully
across the sea and the land.
The sea may rage and argue
against spring’s thundering
hand and I may ride the rain
like waves of war cutting across
meadowland and dwelling,
with a swelling fear inside
my breast—the pain of height,
the fear of depths too deep
to see. I breath numb, I stumble
dumb into the message from
one who walked these seas.
Tonight I sleep with my blind
voice, reciting pithy proverbs,
the lore of folk, weak and fruit-
less. I need a strong hand to
stroke in the torrid thunder,
I need a voice to hush the gales,
to awaken my eyes to prayer
and the promises that sweep
soulfully across the sea and
land, a guiding hand to ease
my shorn soul. Tomorrow I’ll
wake to that Voice on the
breeze, singing a simple prayer,
gently brushing love through
the wind in my hair.
oops, that’s suppose to read “breathe” not “breath.” (line 12)
“… the fear of depths too deep to see…” yes…
No Dimensional Warpgate*
Swimming with passion to the horizon,
we expect to fall off edges not reached
into Edens unfound. Sounds deafen
our senses and—progression un-impeached—
we cling to sandbars until we are bleached,
reach out for flotsom still floating away,
ram into tangles til our hulls are breached,
remain for pickers to salvage someday.
* The title is a line from “Riverspeak.” Hedgewitch, thank you.
Two birds live in one bush here and I have no intention of throwing a stone: In addition to here, this is posted on my blog and linked to K’s “Poetics – A French Twist For Quatorze Juillet” at dVerse.
Copyright © 2012 S.L.Chast
[…] Poetic Bloomings challenged us to “steal” a line from another poet,from any previous prompt. I wrote two but am posting this one: […]
I’ll be back to go through with appreciation and make comments. But for now, this is my last offering for the prompt.
From Hannah Gosslin’s “The Sunflower”
“As It Pulsed and Pushed Through the Ancient Ages”
Man created time to explain distance,
When no other explanation sufficed,
And took delight in measuring all
that came before him with precision.
Life took its meaning from time,
Looking toward expenditure as value,
Rather than intrinsic benefit to man,
Or to this world which gave him life.
Time became master of all creation,
For without it, nothing could be valued,
No one paid for creation’s products,
And nothing valued for creation abilities.
For those who ignored time to pursue
Value in creation, livelihoods held little,
Poverty in man’s eyes came only with
Symbols of time’s valued commodity.
And so destruction of good came before
Creation, and creation came at soul’s expense,
Leaving, as it does, little of value in its wake,
Lasting only as long as destruction stands aside.
“… and creation came at soul’s expense…” …yes…
I rather liked that line myself, Hen. Thank you.
!! 🙂 🙂 !!
From “nigh time” by S.E. Ingraham (Prompt #63 “Uncertainty”)
“Ferlinghetti’s insolent/chattering gets louder/his has been in the background/of all the voices for months/maybe longer”
at the twin branch library
in the stacks, history stands still
cloth bound and unassuming
three girls dressed as if by accident
tear a page from Vanity Fair
write an anonymous note
to the wire-rimmed beatnik
daydreaming behind the counter
Ferlinghetti’s insolent chattering
gets louder, his has been in the
background of all the voices
for months maybe longer
yet to there is no hearing,
no hearing, no listening, no hearing
just the ten-cent sale by the door
the wind-blown seed caught in a screen
the smeared lettering high above the street
the crooked bathroom door, the parched library lawn
the end of things may have already begun
but there is no poster for it on the board
I realize I didn’t follow the prompt exactly – but I just couldn’t resist wrapping around Sharon’s fabulous imagery from “nigh time.”
thanks Andrew – how very nice of you …
I meant to say how much I like this poem also, how deceptive the very “ordinary” title is … how eerie the content … it’s apocalyptic in its way and I like it a lot
I Am Obsessed ( a loop poem)
I am obsessed, half crazy with this craving,
consumed, bewitched, the all-enslaving
path to my heart glitters with diamond paving.
Your smoky brown eyes, hot, persuading
me to embark on a love affair, braving
disapproval of gossips, who, while gaily waving
secretly whisper that I will need saving.
They are certain our binding will loosen with time,
ropes fraying like an old clothesline
dropping garments into alleys of grime
as if our costumes were guilty of crime,
as if the mountain was not worth the climb.
But forever the bells of love will chime
for an obsession, a craving for love in our prime.
Taken from Andrew Kriedler’s, Uncertainty, July 8th
Oh yes! This is hot. And beautifully worked – the fire of obsessive love in full force. Thanks for taking my words to a new level with this piece!
Glad you liked it!
Hi Sara,
thanks for visiting and commenting on my blog. I appreciate you commenting on many of my poems here and poetic asides as well. I really like how the sound, flow and rhymes of the words accentuate the meaning and fireyness of the poem. Enjoyed it!
Thanks, Un. I love your work.
The Weight of My Words
Some are jagged like rocks
thrown at a retreating back,
last-minute bravery meant
to draw blood, to bruise memory.
Some are whispered, sighed,
as if utterance erases them,
their life transmitted through
the eyes, souls conversing
when bodies know no words.
The air is filled with words
every day, some only useful
in drowning silences, worth
whatever we are willing to pay.
Which of them swaddle us at birth?
Which shield us from the storms or
warm us when cold breath buffets us?
Which create a landscape of the self,
the varied terrain of truth, or stretch
a meadow across our minds, a blooming
challenge to rise up, take sunlight, and
forge a sky to house the stars?
Some trifling words hang on us,
dragging in rags behind us for years,
while others are heaviest unsaid,
their silence echoing in our minds’ tombs.
And yet, we love them, words,
longing for their meaning,
for fleeting beauty in the face of change.
Time measures every one, calculates
heft, power, strength, purpose,
the weight of my words proving,
finally, how I lived in the world,
what, whom, and how I loved,
if I was thankful or bitter, and
whether I was wise, kind, true.
From Hannah Gosselin’s “The Lottery”
Oh! Their absolute Power! Loved: “…how I lived in the world…”
I\’ve been reading the postings for the last several prompts, and there is one that has haunted me. It is ”Waiting” by Andrew Kreider, written for the #58 ”In the Air Tonight” prompt. He squeezed it in toward the end of the week, so you might have missed it. I hope you will go back and find it because he packed so much into those five lines. I’ve used the first two to bookend my poem, but I certainly don’t do them justice!
A Thousand Miles from New York
My fingernail scratches the envelope
along the blue and red stripes as if
the border were only on the surface.
Between us is an ocean of paper,
every blank space filled with unwritten
words that burst like hearts.
It is for our hands and lips to speak
the longings too heavy par avion:
I’m waiting for you.
Loved: “…every blank space filled with unwritten words that burst like hearts…”
Catherine, this is wonderful! “longings too heavy par avion” – what a fabulous line. Very honoured to have you take my words and make them sing.
Thanks, Andrew! I just loved your poem so much. I think it’s one of my favorites.
Star Shine and Shadow
I wish for wonders in the heavens
Precious joys that pull my doubts asunder
Star light Star Bright
I wish for the magic of belief
Bunnies hidden deep in hats
First star I see tonight
Coins that grow behind my ears
Cards that vanish and then reappear
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Tricky fingers, sleight of hand
Shine and shadows, magic wands
Have the wish I wish tonight
Inspired by “Missing The Wonders” by Nancy Posey
Oh to Live in Childlike wonder!!! :)! My Granbabies rekindled the spirit!
[…] Poetic Blooms prompt #64 Rate this:Share this:TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestEmailLike this:LikeBe the first to like this. This entry was posted in Poetic Bloomings Sunday Prompt and tagged Magic, stars, wishes, wonders.Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment […]
Last I Saw*
A one-eyed
green-eyed
square-headed
hard-headed
narrow-minded
closed-minded
mobster
monster
alienating
mutating
it was not good.
*Sharon Ingraham’s Nigh Time
HAHAHA! Disturbingly comical!
meg
= )
My muse can be that way sometimes.
YIKES!
love where you took this Laurie … cool
I have to admit that I’m kind of surprised nobody has asked me who is Will, and why would I want him to leave my poem marred.
*ahem*
meg
Hahaha, I noticed that! Watch out for Will! 🙂
I’m so glad somebody got it! 😀
Marie
I took the title to this from one of my own poems, “Splash” from prompt #37. The form is a rondeau.
Casting Wishes to the Sky
I still believe my secret dream,
The one I fear is too extreme,
Can break that binding earthly string.
When wrapped inside an angel’s wing.
When seeking power to redeem
A broken wish that’s lost its gleam,
I seek the help of One supreme,
The fragile faith to which I cling.
I still believe.
It sometimes seems a hopeless scheme,
To linger on the same old theme
And risk the pain of failure’s sting.
With all the power I can wring
To carry on instead of scream,
I still believe.
I Love this!
Parched Love
This drought-stricken lover
Craves your cool waters
To refresh my inner desert.
Fling my withered heart
Into your raging river,
Let me drift your currents
Into pools of peaceful bliss.
I “borrowed” the title for this from Jlynn Sheridan’s poem “Desert Thirst” written for prompt #59 – water.
… ohh…yesss…
love it!
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
I open my window,
I take a deep breath
inhaling you
in.
(From my “WHO, WHAT, WHERE – Gives me no Rest)
*Taken from Walt’s synchronicity poem…Yes, I’m late as usual:)
*Within every waking moment,
the gift of life is heaven sent.*
So if we learn to cherish moments
We will learn to be content
We cannot see the trickle
Of Time’s elemental force
But we can feel its whispers trace
Our temporal discourse
Within every waking moment*
Trembles possibility
Gift of life, oh fleeting morsel
Full of opportunity
We cannot preserve its tenure
Tick by tock its measure slips
As we touch and taste the treasure
Flowing from Time’s gracious lips
Within every waking moment,
the gift of life is heaven sent.*
Oh God, I vow to cherish it
The gift of life that you have lent
Thanks JR. A beautiful bunch of words by which to lead a life.
“… trembles possibility…” !!!!! 🙂
🙂
Marie, Thanks for the compliment! You do realize that this prompt sends me back reading (a joy that has taken my morning!) Here’s mine:
Reading the Sky
Looking at the sky’s pink blush out my window,
I have to recite the rhyme to remember:
“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning,”
just as I have to place my hand over my heard
as if pledging allegiance, to tell left from right.
And like the sailors, I delight in the painted sky
almost ablaze in the west, just over my shoulder.
As I sit curled on the couch to read, my back
to the window, you keep telling me to turn
and look, at the sun’s magic tricks, his grand finale.
Have we humans always looked to the skies
for portent, hoping to read the life line, the heart line
in the clouds? Seeing the rainbow teasing
through clouds, then gone without a goodbye,
I flag down drivers in the lanes beside me,
pointing, wanting to share this momentary miracle.
Maybe I’ve put too much hope in the horizons,
the tree lines, the outlines of mountains miles away
but visible from my back porch. This morning,
I’ll restart my life where sunshine from the east
and clouds in the west, seem to dare each other.
from April 16 “It Doesn’t Make Sense to My Senses
Connie Peters”
This morning, I restart my life
where sunshine from the east
and clouds in the west
seem to dare each other.
Nancy, this is genius … really fine … from Connie’s words to your expansion, I just love it … it’s so easy to relate to “reciting the rhyme to remember – “putting my hand over my heart to remember” – aren’t we all the same? I think so, most of us anyhow … so good to read your work again … sorry if I haven’t said so for awhile.
“… I delight in the painted sky…” Brings to mind: Santa Fe, New Mexico, Austin, Texas, Tucson, Arizona, and early morning airline flights above the clouds… Thank you, 🙂 !
Tear the Longing
It terrifies me so for I’ve held you close to me within a pen
But in a poem I wrote to keep I caused you to disappear and then …
All my life I’ve pretended not knowing you was for the best
Yet felt you tear the longing from my chest
How is it you hold the secrets deep within my heart
Still all it seems you want from me is to keep us apart
Am I delusional or have I really not understood you at all
Please seek me out at your earliest convenience, do call
S.E.Ingraham
This poem went somewhere entirely unintended, this I do promise. I used two lovely bits from an untitled poem of Janet Martin’s that Marie picked as Beautiful Bloom #34 – the bits are “I’ve held you close to me within a pen” and “Yet felt you tear the longing from my chest” and I really thought they were going to end up being part of a much more serious, heartfelt poem as they are simply gorgeous lines that I do wish I’d written myself.
“… I’ve held you close to me within a pen…” !!!!!
I know – isn’t that the most amazing line … is it any wonder I stole it? Janet has such a way with words and phrases; they tend to stay with me a long, long time … Don’t forget. this came from Marie’s beautiful bloom #34 and now we’re up to 64 so I had to go way back to find this … I didn’t say it before but thank you Janet Martin for letting me have my way with two lines from that untitled poem … they were both incredible!
I just HAD TO write a Cento around this absolutely amazing line!! 😀 !
PREPARING DINNER
You…..
feel close…..
enough…..
to
………. Touch.
(From my ONLY IN MY DREAMS?)
Empty Womb, Tired Heart
I hear the refrain
of those that claim to care,
the endless chain
of Why
and When
and Just be patient, dear.
They don’t understand
the gravity of my condition,
the anticipation that swells each month
until red flicks of disappointment
trigger more despair, more heartache,
my grittled hope cracked and fading,
maternal arms still longing
for more than an empty cradle,
clinging to the desperate dream
that love will finally plant the seed
I’ve waited to watch grow and bloom.
I borrowed the title for this poem from whimsygizmo’s (aka De Jackson) poem Suspension (a shadorma) for prompt #43, a picture prompt.
Sadness…
[…] by Poetic Bloomings Prompt #64: “Hey…That’s My Line, Two!” (to use a line from another poem/poet at Poetic […]
NOTHING LASTS FOREVER*
butterfly kisses
raindrops on lashes
oreos and milk
kite-flying in meadows
evenings by the fire and
nighttime cuddles
hand-in-hand walks
embrace of a loved one and
a kiss beneath the shade tree
rainbows on stormy days
the feeling of love, and
sheets all in a tangle
…nothing lasts forever…
2012-07-19
P. Wanken
(*the title is taken from the closing line of an untitled poem by Jackson, written to prompt #63)
Painfully true….. but in those Moments… 🙂 !
(Poetic Form: CENTO)
EYES THAT SHALL NOW, ALWAYS BE MINE
I’ve held you close to me within a pen
every blank space filled with unwritten words that burst like hearts
in the middle of the night.
Dreaming of those eyes
those fathomless eyes…..
Longing becomes art,
trembles possibility:
Cascade of
waterfalls settling into pools
with
rainbows roofing the sky
and
waves crashing and smoothing a beach at sunset…
Yet,
the fear of depths too deep to see.
Cool, clear water,
how do I “unfeel”
this feeling
too delicate to retrace?
(With a Thank You to: JanetMartin/Sharon Ingraham: Beautiful Blooms #34 & Prompt 64; OneInchTall: Pr-64; Me: Pr-64, In-Form, Loop Poem, & “Into the Depths”; SharpLittlePencil: Pr-52; JanetMartin: Pr-64; JaneShlensky: “When Uncertainty is the pen”; JlynnSheridan: Pr-64; Me: “I Felt the Earth Move… Under My Feet”; and JlynnSheridan: Pr-64).
From the very first Poetic Bloomings prompt, and from the sensitive work of Marie Elena Good, entitled “Of Dandelions and Manicures””
“One scatters dandelion seeds,
Who understands a daydream’s needs.”
MEG
I think of her often,
living in a smallish place,
a friend to so many,
living vastly flung.
I choose to think of her
with a broad smile,
sometimes a loud laugh,
at all times huggable.
I never consider
the possibility of frowns
or headaches,
or any other form of discontent.
It’s my daydream,
and I’ll have in it what I want.
————————————————————————
Also from the initial Poetic Bloomings prompt, and from the passionate work of Walt Wojtanik, entitled “A Touch”:
“It is desire of the highest power.
It has been left to burn unattended”
Maestro
There can be no turning back,
bridges blown asunder,
boats all sunk,
there is only forward in our plans.
It is not that we are brave,
simply that there is no choice,
courage not at issue,
as the fire rages at our backs.
We can cure the ills of the world.
We can. We will. We must.
Hee, hee, re: “Meg” – Don’t we all know someone like her? Your kindness does her well! 🙂
You leave me speechless, Daniel. Warm smiles and thanks … and wishing your daydream was 100% factual. 😉
Marie Elena (meg)
Thanks for the highlight and the kind words, Daniel. But a maestro is only as good as his orchestra. And no one plays second fiddle to you, my friend!
Inspired by WALT’S TWO SENSE: By Walter J. Wojtanik at Poetic Bloomings
All my thoughts converge
random ideas bombard
making little sense.
*This poem is a reflection of my own struggle of muse (Muse blues as you might say).
Calling all Thoughts
Simple recollections of nimble thought
shimmery fragments of memory lain still
sternly refusing to be gathered neatly
disregarding a musing poets quill
Nary a poem, nor sufficing word
lacking bedazzlement
enchantment of guest
less than enthralling
embarrassing, how absurd?!!
! 🙂 !
😀 indeed!
(A Thank you to Nancy Posey: “Reading the Sky”, Prompt-64)
SUNSHINE
I touched your face
this morning…
Traced its outline
Cupped it in my
hands
as you stared down
into me.
Hi Henrieta! lovely poem…
Hi Benjamin, I’m so glad that you liked it; it was another one of those that I almost didn’t post.
Inspired by Henrietta Choplin’s Sunshine: Poetic Bloomings
Dripped in Sunshine
Gliding fingerprints in motion
slowly brush your sizzling face
dripped in sunshine
my emphatic oils indelibly mark
her open canvas space
forever stained
effervescently
Beauty… Benjamin… beauty… thank you…
TRUTHS
WHO are you?! I want to know
your name.
I want to say it
to myself.
WHAT are you? A guiding presence,
a friend,
a lover?
A friendly, guiding, lover?
WHERE are you? Wrapped around me,
yes…..
But I need to be
certain
that you do not
live
with a wife
who certainly
would not be
understanding. 🙂
(From my “WHO, WHAT, WHERE – Gives me no Rest”)
[…] Poetic Bloomings gives us a favourite, borrowing a line. Visit to read what our hosts say and to read their poems in response to the prompt. You might look around and check out their latest in-form prompt, and their interview . […]
We Met to Reminisce
“Hey. It’s been awhile.”
“Yes. Far too long, in fact.”
“You never called.”
“Neither did you.”
“Because I thought you would.”
“Why should I? You didn’t.”
“Well, someone had to call first.”
“I was busy, okay? Sue me.”
“Seriously? Is that all you have to say?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? You’re leaving? Just like that?”
“Bye.”
“And here I thought we met to reminisce.”
“We just did.”
(Title borrowed from the first line of Marie Elena’s poem “Sealed With a Kiss.”)
Painful… reality.