Nancy Posey brought up the very heart of this exercise with her comment, “You do realize that this prompt sends me back reading (a joy that has taken my morning!).”   I trust that you all experienced the joy of which Nancy speaks.  I know I did, and do with every visit here.  So many brilliant, beautiful, profound, poetic, comical lines are found among your works.  Thank you, all!

Henrietta Choplin’s Cento took this prompt a step further, as it is woven of lines penned by six brilliant poets (Janet Martin, Sharon Ingraham, Catherine Choi Lee, J. Lynn Sheridan, Jane Shlensky, and Amy Barlow Liberatore).  The result is cohesive, deep, and lovely.  With warm smiles, I offer my Bloom to our resident cheerleader, “Hen.”


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
rainbows roofing the sky
waves crashing and smoothing a beach at sunset…
the fear of depths too deep to see.
Cool, clear water,
how do I “unfeel”
this feeling
too delicate to retrace?


The piece I chose was by J. Lynn Sheridan with inspiration from Janet Martin’s A Villanelle. J.Lynn seems to have found balance in her poem.

“. . . the harmony of pleasure and of pain
Sweeps soulfully across the sea and land.” Janet’s “A Villianelle” (June 27)


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 breathe 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.

35 thoughts on “BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #64

  1. Aww, THANK YOU, Meg! I deeply Loved those words, and my Heart sang them together! I just returned home from a lovely jog and was brought to tears by your selection. 🙂 !

    Of course, I loved jlynn’s poem, and borrowed one of her lines. Congratulations, jlynn and thank you for your words!

  2. J. Lynn, I am so sorry I have not been able to read very much this week…between being ‘kids-sleep-over central’ and then fighting a flu, i have not had the time nor stamina to stay up late to read…I hope to do so when I’m feeling better:) Thank-you for using this line and turning it into a stellar piece of work! I LOVE it. thank-you Walt for choosing this poem.

    Henrietta, this is a WOW, WOW piece…oh, I want to be able to skip over and read ALL of them. Summer is always a challenge. Marie, thank-you for allowing us to re-enjoy these offerings!

    • I’m so sorry you have had such a rough week. I hope you are able to rest in between the scramble of children. Please take care of yourself. Thank you for sharing your words so I could “steal” them!

    • Thank you, so much, Janet! Your household is truly “poetry in motion”; I hope you get to feeling better!

  3. Wow, what fun to wake up to a bloom. Thank you, Walt. And to Janet for sharing her sweet lines of poetry. This was a fun prompt and I did so enjoy sifting through the poetry in the archives.

    • MMT! Thank YOU for one of your comments, which led to the title of my poem! 🙂 !

  4. Congratulations to both Henrietta and J.Lynn – great choices for blooms – thanks to Marie Elena and Walt, as always, gardening with keen and caring poetic justice.


    My eyes cannot
    stay open tonight. For weeks
    I have longed

    to pull back
    the thin sheet that separates
    me from anxious

    dreams; the kind
    where I’m waiting tables in some
    vaguely familiar place

    and people are
    waiting for me to take
    their dinner orders.

    The guilty panic
    starts setting in just as
    I remember that

    I haven’t worked
    at a restaurant for years.
    Still, I feel

    them waiting for
    me, just as I wait
    ever more impatient

    for just one restful night.

Comments are closed.