THIS IS YOUR PROMPT. WHAT DOES IT SAY TO YOU?
(Thanks to Marjory M. Thompson [aka MMT] for use of her photo)
MARIE ELENA’S POEM
Inhabiting Moments
There was a day when life moved at the speed of carriage; when intimacy waited for marriage. Evening meals were planned, prepared and, following prayer, shared. Dim the light. Rewrite the greed. Linger. Proceed Gently though the years, before time disappears.© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
WALT’S LIMIT
SLOW DOWN, YOU”RE MOVING TOO FAST
Up to speed traveling
on the path of least resistance.
Upon his heart’s insistence,
it’s pedal to the metal.
Despite speed bumps, he will
take his lumps and move along.
Don’t limit his progress,
or he’ll plow you down!
© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Thank you, MMT, Walt and Meg… I need to sleep on this one…
Yes, thanks you three!!!
WOW Marie, just, WOW – love it.
Thank you so much, Debi! A “wow” is very humbling.
Marie Elena
So few words-so much meaning. Just the kind of poem that speaks to me.
Yes, both of ’em!
OH! I agree. It needs to be read slowly, a few times. Gorgeous.
LIMITS
No one can tell me how fast I can go,
how far I can fly
how high I can climb
How much I can love.
No one can tell me what choices I have,
how hard I can try
how long I can continue
how soon I can begin.
No one can limit my existance
my resistance
my exuberance
my patience.
Try, just try to stop me.
The only thing that can limit me is my imagination
my reluctance,
and my fear.
And I will never allow that to happen.
Wow! I posted mine before I read this, but they’re kind of along the same lines. Lovely poem, Linda! Glad, as always, to read you. 🙂
Thank you Erin. We do seem to have some important values in common, independence being one of them!
Such power in the speaker of these words…your final stanza wraps this poem up beautifully!!
Excellent words to live by. I love this Linda.
Thank you Hannah and Debi. This prompt hit me in the gut, could you tell?
Good for you, Linda… it’s not easy being that courageous!!
Love how you summarize this poem. Much to ponder and then persevere! thank-you for sharing.
I love how you took the limits sign and snubbed it!
Life Is A Highway
Life is a highway,
Leading on and on,
With many twists
And many turns;
Given the choice,
I’d choose an open
Highway, surrounded
On all sides by hills
And grassy flatlands;
The wind in my hair,
And on my face,
The sun at my back;
Going a good seventy,
Or more, miles per hour;
Open countryside,
Tall white windmills;
Don’t try to limit me,
I couldn’t go slow
If I tried my hardest;
But I won’t even try.
Life is a highway;
Give me an open highway…
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
Fast and beautiful the highway life, Erin!! Smiles to you friend!
Thanks, Hannah! I wanted someway to incorporate the highway we travel on on our way to Eastern WA every summer. It’s gorgeous! Especially the windmills…
Ooo…those windmills sound beautiful…I bet you’ve photographed them? 🙂
I didn’t have my camera last time we went (and anyway, I was sick the whole time :/), but here’s a link for an Internet photo so you can see what they look like. There are literally hundreds of them!
http://blackdiamondnow.typepad.com/.a/6a00e5513924e6883301348364ba12970c-pi
Wow…they’re huge…I can’t imagine being right up close to these!! Maybe next time…wellness and camera in hand….I’m sure your eye for capturing these would be creative! Smiles to you and thank you for the link!
I see what you mean about the common theme, Erin. I truly hope you find your open highway!
Thanks, Linda! 🙂
Oh, Fun…especially Loved your thrid stanza!! 🙂 !!
Yes! I love the wind in my hair! 😀 Thanks, Hen.
I like it Erin. I hope the open road is always fun for you.
Me too!! :D!!
Thanks, you two!! 🙂
Beautiful!
Glad you liked it, Janet…thanks!
Erin, this is a freewheeling woman independence poem. Love it!
Haha, thanks, Sara!! I hate red lights. 😉
You go, girl! ❤
Ennui
E veryone likes bucking authority
N o limits, no laws
N o restrictions, no restraints
U ntil they get run over by another
I ntrepid renegade
Clever and true, Connie.
Yep.
Ha, so true.
LOVE this one! So true.
Ha! Yep.
[…] PROMPT #102. Ekphrastic Poetry – 2013 Photo Prompt #2 […]
Silent Screams
Silken-slinking and black,
it inks the pavement in secret;
it creeps in a slow sheet.
A street so familiar
becomes a stranger
while he sleeps.
He’s early rising
and in rush of morning
he forgets that winter
still kisses the earth,
he fails to recall
that frost still lingers.
A fast fling
from car to woods,
the sound of his body
as it hits the ground
resounds through nature.
Last year’s grass
yellowed –
crisp with remembering
cried out,
tried to remind him.
Slow down sojourner!
Take care early traveler!
Beware, the ice crawls here!
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013
Good morning everyone!!! Happy Sunday to all and warm smiles!!
Warmth to you, Hannah!! 🙂 !!
Thank you, Hen!! ♥
!! 🙂
“Silken-slinking and black,it inks the pavement in secret;” perfect!
Thank you, Debi!!
Warm smiles right back, Sweet Hannah! My goodness, your poem is a stunner this morning. “Ice crawls here” made me shiver (no pun intended). Nice work!
Thank you SO much, Marie!!! I’m so glad that the “shiver,” was present!! 🙂
Your imagery never fails to impress me Hannah. Wonderful piece.
I so appreciate this, Linda!!
Oh, so painfully true…
Unfortunately, yes…I know a few places that could be deathly if one was not cautious. Thank you for your words, Hen.
Yes… and you are very welcome, friend!
How sad! You do a wonderful job telling your story…I was tense the whole time, waiting to see what would happen. Good job!
It is…thank you so much, I’m so glad that the suspense drew you in, Erin! 🙂
Yup, you’ve done it again. 😉 You’re welcome.
I learned this very lesson long ago, only thankfully I live to tell it, in spite of the large tree I careened off of. I have shown my kids the scars, still there in its bark!
Oh, wow…Janet!!! I’m so glad you’re okay!! Thank you for sharing with us. ♥
“winter still kisses the earth.” (yes, it does.) Love this line.
Thank you, jlynn…I’m so glad you liked that part…makes my heart happy, it was one of my favorite lines. 🙂
Chilling one, Hannah.
Thank you, Sarah!!
Wonderful poem, and I love this part:
“Last year’s grass
yellowed –
crisp with remembering
cried out,
tried to remind him.”
I had just finished this for an assignment and it seems appropriate here. I’ll work on another after church today.
Whitney:
Stolen Moments
Time’s a thief.
What does he do
with all those
purloined hours
of wasted
aimless moments
littered along the wayside?
😦
Sad…
Sundays are so hard for me to get to this prompt! It is Tuesday and I finally have a chance to enjoy the beautiful inspiration. I esp. love this one Debi.
Thank you, Janet
Love that…”purloined hours,” great way to state it! 🙂
I love it Debi. If you ever get an answer, I would love to hear it!
PASSING 35 MPH
young teen-age daughter,
this time (speaking in gross
understatement) I say you’ve
overstepped yourself again
shown yourself
typically stubborn
for the last time refusing to lift
your foot from the pedal
giving that shiny blue Mustang
enough horse power to gallop
into the shiny blue expanse
of the next world’s highway
beyond speed-limit signs
beyond reason
beyond parental advice
while we survivors
grounded to life without you
regret we knuckled under
to your buy-me-a-new-car
birthday wishes
when we could have instead
sent you off on a Roman holiday
a week in the Bahamas
or gifted you with a thick envelope
wadded with fifties
mad money to bankroll
your painting the town red
instead of leaving us
on empty
stranded
Flat-tired weary
Stalled in your memories
#
Oh my. Powerful, powerful piece. I hope this is not personal experience, Sal.
Marie Elena
Ohh, every parent’s nightmare!
Sal, your poem rings so true about an all-to-common occurrence. I echo sentiments of Marie and Henrietta.
I still remember standing at the window watching for headlights coming down the road when my kids were teens, heart in throat praying for their safety (and a little common sense!)
Oh my gosh, Sal! What a powerful piece. I’m so glad this is not an actual experience!
Oh. Oh. WOW! Serious tears here. I’ve known such kids. So sad.
Outstanding poem, Sal. Also, I love your term, `flat-tire weary/’
Ooh– “… leaving us/ on empty /stranded/ Flat-tired weary/ Stalled in your memories…”
I like how all the images there are car-related, but with double meanings. Nice.
Slowing Down
Big, white, puffy cloud of grace,
move slowly, surely in my space
of skyline’s shadow that is traced,
Into a tranquil, peaceful place…
Beautiful, Hen, just beautiful! I love your last line!!
Thank you, Erin… you know, I must share with you the actual creative process of this one: the words that woke me were:
“Puffy, dreamy cloud
of white,
Carry me softly all of
this night”.
So, I scribbled them down, but, when I went to work with them for this prompt, they morph’d… interesting, huh?
Those are beautiful words that do move me “into a tranquil, peaceful place” really nice, Henrietta.
Aww… thank you, so much, Debi!!
Oh, I love both versions! Wonderful, Hen!
sigh…yes:)
So peaceful…I love the image in my mind from reading you, Hen my friend…thank you! ♥
So lovely, Hen! One of my all-time favorites of yours!
Marie Elena
Thank God, no, Marie! Most of my poems and stories are fabricated worlds I like to visit but not necessarily want to live there.
Thank God. You just make it all sound so real … talent, my friend! Talent!
Marie Elena
Relieved to know!
Sorry – I posted too fast and put an earlier version up. Here’s the correct version:
No Limits
“In love, somehow, a man’s heart is always either exceeding the speed limit or getting parked in the wrong place.” ~Helen Rowland
He raced through love as if on fire.
‘though, once in a while, he felt stirred,
but mostly he thought ‘slow’ absurd.
He liked his speed to be much higher
and women were what he’d acquire.
In this, his quest was undeterred
‘though, once in a while, he felt stirred,.
He raced through love as if on fire.
And then, he met his heart’s desire,
but he was not what she preferred.
She said, “With speed, all lines get blurred.
We’d crash and burn…a funeral pyre.
Won’t race through love as if on fire.”
###
The sense of urgency comes through here, RJ. 🙂
Pulled your earlier version for ya. 🙂
Marie
Thanks! ♥
Sensible girl… This is a good one, RJ! 🙂
I agree Erin. I like this RJ
Your quote made me smile. Your last line, I Loved… just take it nice and slooow… 🙂 !!
Gorgeous RJ.
I love this, RJ. Has such a sense of immediacy about it.
Nice prompt guys. You know I love doing these, don’t you?
😉
❤
Nearing the Breaking Point
Revolts often spurred by limits
Protests raised by restrictions
Demonstrators demanding release
From an imperialistic government
We are a people of freedom
We resist because we are free
Even the common sense limits
That protect us from ourselves
Restrictions, nevertheless
And cause for resistance
But limits as of late
Have handcuffed us all
To an all-powerful government
Bent on control and power
Bent on removing freedoms
We are a people of freedom
Nearing the breaking point
How much more will we take
(C) 2013 Earl Parsons
How much more indeed, alas too many are sheep.
Bullet riddled sign
Unseen by those passing by
Danger lies ahead
Metal on metal
gas pedal pushed to the floor
green grass broken lives
😦 !
Jarring and to the point.
Traveler speeding down the interstate
rushing to get somewhere,
you’ll never know
what use to lie just over that knoll.
A busy, bustling town
neat houses, mom and pop stores,
a community of caring people,
no more.
Cause progress came a callin’
built four lanes where two once sufficed.
Then a big mall went up
and sealed the town’s demise.
How sad…it sounded like such a cute old town!
…yes…
Speed Reduction
We learned the lesson long ago
from turtle racing skinny hare:
since speed is mostly wind and show,
to reverence life by going slow,
The principle—that we should care
for paths themselves—we hurried past,
hell-bent on racing, lean and spare,
zooming those flowers growing there.
Speed limits nesting in the grass
raise thoughts of youth so quickly gone.
Our turtle selves can amble on;
We know some ages last and last.
Nice one, Jane!!
“…to reverence life by going slow,…” …yes… great line!
Very!
Thanks, friends.
Jane, I love the way your poetry always says so much.
Thanks for the photo-prompt MMT . this is what I saw…
Runaway Train
she grew up fast
too fast her mamma said
she was that kind of girl
she developed
physically
mentally (she thought)
she developed
tastes
desires
she developed a life of her own
her mamma said slow down
there’s plenty of time
but she discarded the advice
casting it out of her road
she ran wild
out with the wrong crowd
out of control
she ran into her daddy’s wrath
until she ran away
still helter-skeltering
steaming round the curves
leaning into mishap
and misfortune
living on her wits
living on her looks
on her luck
she changed her hair
she changed her clothes
she changed inside
mamma’s words ringing her ears
as she lies sleepless in the flop-house
wondering where it went wrong
wondering where the next meal comes from
what she’ll have to do to get it
wondering if her mamma still loves her
if her daddy’s still mad
it was always full speed ahead
she ignored the speed limit
she never saw the stop sign
the crossing was closed
a south bound freight was coming fast
faster and faster
faster than her
her world exploded in chaos
darkness
misery
her memory is fading
as are her looks
used and abuse
used up and cast aside
she stares at the tear-stained photo
fading day by day
the memory of her mother
and the milk carton she’d saved
always kept
always would
the only picture she had of the girl she once was
until the express train in powder form
takes her away again
Iain
You certainly have a way of creating engaging stories, Iain. Amazing!
Marie Elena
Thank you so much 🙂
Oh my…you have definitely given me good advice for what NOT to do! Think I’ll stick around with Mamma and Daddy for a while. 😉
🙂
Right on, Erin!!
Wow! What a wonderful tale you have spun.
Thanks purple 🙂
Wow. This is marvelous, Iain!
Thank you 🙂 I am really having a good time poeming just now…best for as long time 🙂
Sevenling
At 35, I thought I knew
the speed of yes
the thrill of go
I revved and roared
my limits few
I didn’t guess
some times pass slow
Great job of blending the prompts, Jane!
Marie Elena
What Marie said!
Nice!
🙂
o-o-oh! Love the surprise end!
This is delightful… and so true!
seasons passing
too quickly one to the next ~
please slow down
2013-04-07
P. Wanken
Lovely little poem, Pam!
Sorry; I meant Paula. 😉
Oh so true, Paula!
Amen, Paula!
I’m still writing like mad today. Got a late state. I’ll be back later to do comments. I just had to tell a story. What else can I say.
A Moment’s Passing
It was his age, you see,
That day he celebrated;
He never saw it coming
Around that oak-lined bend,
Never imagined that time
Could stand still while life
Continued without breath,
Without rhyme or reason’s
Interference into his day;
He never before believed
That all that life contained
Could be held within lungs
Thirsting for air but unwilling
To capture, for taste’s sake,
A new breath to accompany
Uncounted memories flooding
Through a brain staggered by awe.
He never saw it coming that day
And he never had a chance to tell
The world how much he loved it.
Wow…this touched me. Wonderful and poignant poem, Clauds!
Thank you so much, Erin. I’m glad you liked it.
… ohh… such is life…
“And he never had a chance to tell
The world how much he loved it.”
So sad to think of all the young ones this applies to.
It is indeed, Debi.
🙂
Heart-wrenching! Thank-you for sharing, Claudsy.
You’re welcome, Janet. It happens each day, somewhere, to someone. A moment’s inattention, a phone chiming, a child crying, all sorts of reasons, and sometimes none to explain the happening. It’s all in the timing, which is always up for interpretation.
`a brain staggered by awe’ – wonderful imagery, Claudsy.
Thanks so much, Sara. It’s always nice to know when someone likes your work, isn’t it?
Vivid and raw…not a moment I want to experience…
This is great:
” time
Could stand still while life
Continued without breath,”
Love your story, Clauds!
Thank you so much, Hanna. I’ve not seen you around much lately, and I’ve been buried here and haven’t crept out much either. Glad you’re out and about again, too.
Yes, I’ve been about writing but I haven’t been able to read and comment as much as I like to…other areas of my life have been pulling my time in different directions…good ones but as we talked about before…always a balancing act!!
It is SO good to see you, too!!
❤
I like the whole poem, Claudsy, but these lines are perfection, I think:
“And he never had a chance to tell
The world how much he loved it.”
Well done!
Aw, thanks, Kate. It’s good to know that I can take a line from here, or maybe two, and create something new and different from it later. I’ve been thinking of doing just that.
The Curve
It was like the whole school
Students, teachers, janitors
Had to see for themselves
Though the wreckers had come early
And the cops made sure no souvenirs
Lingered for the morbidly inclined.
We came at dawn
When the traffic was slow
Before the flowers and the notes
The girls who suddenly discovered
He had been their secret heartthrob all along
The Junior. mechanics and engineers who explained
What he should have done and why it had happened.
Sure.
The wreckers had finished and some insects
Were chirping in the grass like they always did
Later rain would fall and slowly the blood
Would sink down into the ground and the
Grass, like they used to say about battlefields
Would grow a bit greener, fresher…
A new sign would appear – maybe it would
Say 25 – 20 for all the good it did.
When some dumb kid with a new set of wheels
Had to see what they would do and where was there
A better place to find out than “Dead Man’s Curve?”
“The girls who suddenly discovered
He had been their secret heartthrob all along”
Oh is this ever spot on.
Marie Elena
Just what I was going to say! Well done.
Oh dear! I’m trying to get my permit soon and you are all scaring the living daylights out of me! 😉
This is such a powerful poem, Marian. So well expressed!
Be safe, Erin, and always watch out for the “other guy”, who may not be driving safely.
My Mom always says, Watch out for the other idiots. I’m not sure if she misspeaks or means it when she tells me that. : )
My mom says things along those lines as well. I guess it’s part of a mother’s job to worry. 🙂
My kids know I’m going to say ‘drive carefully’ as they leave. Debi, love your Mom’s take as well! Marian, you paint such a vivid scene. truly stunning.
Marie Elena, I am totalling digging your poem this week.
Thanks so much, Linda!!
Marie Elena
Ol’ Thirty-Five
By David De Jong
Half-past nowhere on highway one,
Stands a willow, sweepin’ the sun.
Ruts from a path seen if you stare,
Remnants of a shack, yonder hills there.
Molly, Bearshoot, an’ ol’ man McGree,
Always took their turn, under that tree.
Each time they passed, it erased their tracks,
Vanishin’ from the law on their backs.
When they passed the sign, lead was spent,
No one knew, exactly where they went.
Life was reckless, rich, and flat six fast.
They knew, it was too crazy to last.
Ranger Renkins, stubborn, old as dirt,
Still wearin’ that ol’ star on his shirt.
Carried a Hawkins, Colt by his side,
Dakota mustang, his preferred ride.
He swore an oath, to uphold the law.
Those three there, were pullin’ his last straw.
Green-horn sheriff always lost their trail.
Folks thinkin’ this some legendry tale.
Renkins, Chennoah, (his mustang ride),
Took hills, lookin’, for a place to hide.
He crossed country most folk never see,
For him, it was nat’ral as could be.
He found ol’ man McGree’s hidin’ shack,
New batch whiskey, cookin’ out back.
They weren’t expectin’ no company,
When he hollered from behind a tree.
McGree pulled his triggers, bark whizzed by.
Molly an’ Bearshoot were feelin’ spry,
Jumped in their rig, took it to the floor,
Left ol’ man McGree, lying at the door.
Young Bearshoot drivin’ lickety-split,
Cursin’ the law-man, givin’ him a fit,
That flat head six, screamin’ like a breeze.
Renkins an’ Chennoah, slipped through trees.
Renkins pulled his Hawkins top the ridge,
Pulled the trigger as they crossed the bridge.
Molly an’ Bearshoot fell off the road,
A shot to the tires, made em unload.
They grazed the tree and took out the sign,
Ol’ Renkins, Chennoah, come out fine.
He cuffed em, walked em both back to town.
That ol’ highway sign – still layin’ down.
Oh. My. Word.
This is a completely different voice for you, and I NEVER would have guessed this to have come from your pen. Excellent, David. And love that ending.
Marie Elena
Ha Ha – Yeah there’s a bit of an old cowpoke in me.
Love this, David!!! I’m really in to westerns right now. And Marie’s right, this is a little unexpected. 😉
Thanks Erin,
No one tells em like Louis L’Amour.
My mom really likes those; I’ll have to read one. What I’m really obsessed with right now is “The Rifleman”, a show made in the 50’s and 60’s about a cattle rancher and his son. In fact, my whole family’s pretty into it. 😉
Loved that show – used to watch it after school.
One of my favorites of L’Amour it ‘Down the Long Hills” – google it and check it out – you’ll like it.
What a story!!
Yee-haw! LOVE it:)
Leave that cowboy hat on!
Love the staccato voice!
Passing Through
The rusted road sign tossed into the field
bears silent witness to frustration
or simple daredevilry. I picture him,
putting along, some driver passing through
this speed trap of a town, eager to reach
his destination, slowed not by traffic
in this town that rolls us her sidewalks
every evening, but the arbitrary law,
passed contrary to strangers sporting
tell-tale out-of-state plates on the way
to somewhere else. Uncaught, moving
on down the road, did his mischief
make him laugh? Maybe he just felt
eager for the simple math equating
minutes to miles before reaching home.
Interesting take, Nancy… I like it!
…one never knows…
I enjoyed this fresh take, Nancy.
“Remembering the circle of life”
1. A lighted match can only pass
month-by-month en mass
. . . but Once.
2. Bright spheres spin
then spin anew.
. . . a solo revolving memorable tune.
3. Life speeds on in aging light
from new to prime to thirty-five,
from thirty-five to fifty-old
then fifty leads to wrinkled wise.
4. The match fades fast.
The sphere spins free.
. . . . an everlasting aging spree.
5.Miles then end in markered grass.
Another lighted match is passed—
. . . a solo ride that lasts en mass
but Once.
This is wonderful, J!! Lovely!
Thanks, Erin. (can I adopt your last name?)
Haha! Sure, go ahead. 😀
Whoa… this one stopped me for a moment… Thank you, jlynn!
Oh, good. That’s what I was going for!
! 🙂 !
I agree Hen. this is just superb! Thanks jlynn.
I love your approach and your #3 resonates with me the 35 to old…I just hit that ol’ 3…5…and it sorta does feel just like this…it’s the next set of numbers…
Great work! Your ending ties in the image perfectly!
Thanks Hannah. Oh you hit (clears throat) the bump. I remember that one. I felt like I was on the other side of youth. Keep poeming, it will keep you young!
I’m laughing here, jlynne!!! You’ve capture that feeling in words perfectly!! Lol Yes….poems and the expression of self and the Divine will keep us young, (I hope! *winks*)!
Very cool, and so many layers! I keep coming back to these and seeing something more.
Thanks k8e, It pleases me that you are able to see layers.
Whooo…I had forgotten I had sent you the photo!…
THANKS a Bunch for using it. Looks like I am late to this Garden Party #102 and there are a lot of wonderful poems to read. I would like to comment, only my machine won’t let me. 😦 No matter what, how or where I tag, I can not bring up any comment boxes other than this one at the bottom!!
You’re welcome, Marjory. Thank YOU!!
As for the comment boxes, are you seeing where it says “Reply” in the lower right after each poem or comment? Click on the “Reply,” and it will open a new comment box.
The “Reply” below your comment here, is the only “Reply” I have seen all afternoon on this site. I’ll keep checking. 🙂
Hey, M… good to see ya!! 🙂
Excellent image, Marjory!! Thank you for sharing!
Although I’m probably dating myself, this photo put me in mind of the Mark Dinning song ‘Teen Angel’ and also, a movie about the story of Jan and Dean.
Teen Angel
“Long for me as I for you, forgetting, what will be inevitable, the long black aftermath of pain.” ~Malcolm Lowry
I took the curve at Deadman’s Pass
a bit too quickly. Now I know
that what I did was all for show.
Who would have thought that metal, glass
and you would wind up in the grass.
My sweet teen angel, now you go
a bit too quickly. Now I know
I took the curve at Deadman’s Pass
at breakneck speed. I hit the gas
instead of 35. “Too slow,”
I said, just when a headlight’s glow
rushed towards us. Oh my love! Alas!
I took the curve at Deadman’s Pass
###
How painful…another poem about a wreck… 😦
So sad… I remember the song… 😦 !
Well, you dated me along with you!
I remember the song, too! Of course, I was a mere child…
SIGNS of the TIME
Full speed ahead, get it here-and-now. Texting, i-phone, i-pod, no waiting, read/hear in now. Must have a thousand channels on which to view the past, present and future. Need the News, Traffic and Weather updates 24/7. Instant replay, instant food, ATM-instant cash, instant credit, instant gratification – buy now pay-later, interest-free next 18 months. Card maxed? Get a new one. New house, car, boat and RV, drive through service, fast food, home delivery, passing lane. Only the best will do. Total sound-around, lights, entertainment, Go, go, go. New hair, new clothes, new look, new toys, new tools, new widgets….new, new, new.
Hit the brake,
you’re going to fast,
slow down. Breath.
I like this, M!! Though I’m definitely a child of this age, and have no idea what I’d do without my iTouch, I still feel like this sometimes. 🙂
Powerful, M… I prefer a simple life… everything else is just “drama on the page” — I can write about it — 🙂 !!
This is straying a bit, but it still ties in a little.
Those Very Few…
Little, wild, happy girl,
Dancing in a brilliant sun;
Never dreaming things would change
Or I could ever be unhappy.
I was nine and times were good:
Fast and fun and full of laughter.
April 20th brought me up with a jolt,
April 20th came and went,
And took you with it;
Now I’d give the rest of my life,
However many years that is,
If I could just have those few years back:
Those very few years
When you were with me,
And times were good:
Fast and fun and full of laughter.
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
Ohh… so painfully Lovely, Erin…
Thank you, Hen. ❤
Oh, a sad anniversary for you, in among all the happy April birthdays… I’m sorry, little one. But it’s a lovely poem!
Yes, April is an interesting month for me: lots of rejoicing, and lots more crying. Glad you liked the poem, Kate. 🙂
I see the happy memories and hope in your poem, Erin. Young loss brings heartache like little other.
Hugs,
Marie Elena
Thanks for the hugs, Marie. I needed those!
“Thirty-Five Miles Per Hour”
The winter gone; bluebonnets peep their heads
among a broken fence-line, near a sign.
This ground now hallowed, they will bloom instead
in wild confusion for a heart that’s blind.
For those who do not see the need for pause;
for those who do not heed the gift of life.
The “pedal to the medal” seems a clause;
a saying they would live by as their right.
Below the bonnets grieve the innocent;
those wide-eyed wonders on their way to school.
They had so brief a moment to confront
the jagged bumper of the speeding fool.
So, spring is here; bluebonnets peep their head
a heaven-haloed blue for those now dead.
Oh, Jacqueline… tho’ painful, this is intimately Beautiful… and bluebonnets are one of my favorite wildflowers… !!!
tender-sweet, sorrowful sonnet! The delicate over the dreadful. LOVE how you wove the contrast through the stanzas.
Thanks, Hen and Janet, for your responses. I really, really
appreciate your feedback!
I agree 100%. Always thoroughly enjoy your sonnets, Jacqueline.
Marie Elena
Ooo…the contrast of the grim and the beautiful is so very effective, Jacqueline!! Wow!
Oh my word…this is stunning! You started out so sweetly, and it changed so suddenly. This is so painfully beautiful!
Beaten
Lying in the grass
wounded by bullets,
I can only shake my head…
picturing the teenage boys
sitting on their cars,
a few brews between them,
taking shots at the sign –
teenagers making mischief,
feeling empowered by the total lack
of respect for rules and public property.
Imagine my surprise
when a fifty yards down the road
there is a little, white haired old woman
shooting at the “no passing” sign.
I apologize to teenagers everywhere.
!! 😀 … a book by it’s cover…
Ha!
Haha! This is too funny, Michelle! 😀
Ha! I love it! But I didn’t think anybody saw me… ^_^
gigglegigglegiggle
Reminder of A Town
Neglected on roadside,
tossed in patches
of quick growth, a signpost
lay rusting. Speed Limit:
thirty-five, relic of
an abandoned town.
…yes, gone…
A) another fresh take Sara. I love it!
Thanks, Janet!
I love this idea…great work, Sarah!
Thanks, Hannah!
Nice one, Sara! I love your take on this one…
Thanks, Erin!
UNLUCKY NUMBER
He always wanted to arrive before
he had left, claiming that life was
passing him by, And when the right
tyre of his car took out The sign
by the side of the road, he
discovered That 35
was his unluckiest number.
Love this, Misk. Says a lot.
Nice. Concise, and with a great punch at the end!
Life in the Fast Lane
Life…
a busy, hectic struggle
to get from point A to point B
before anyone else does,
or at least before you’re late.
hee, hee
😉
Disregard
Disregarded on the side of the road
(An old sign)
a reminder
(with limits,)
to slow down,
(we move so fast)
take in the view
(the view is a blur)
enjoy the life we’re having
(as we rush to the next anticipated event)
in the here and now.
(before we’re disregarded and forgotten on the side of the road.)
yep…
h-m-m-m. thank-you for the reminder.
A Batch of Poem-lets as I work on a batch of bread…
Hey kids,
An old highway-sign
Scarred with weather and lead
Won’t teach you to drive
Or put sense in your head
***
We tripped over the sign on our way to the top
of the hill where the daisies were starting to bloom
but thirty five miles is much too fast
for grass highways in God’s living-room
so we dragged it as best as we were able
to the top and used it for our picnic table
***
Time flies they say
And so will we
If we ignore
The posted speed
***
This is the spot
Where she did not heed
The caution of
The posted speed
Now all that is left
Is weather and years
In a little place
Called the vale of tears
***
Don’t drink and drive
Don’t play with guns
And if the cop is chasing you
DON’T try to out-run
Them
***
That sign in the grass reminds us
That Time will pass; so why do we fuss
Over all that will drift as a seed on the wind?
Let’s just laugh, love, live, pray and be kind
Thank-you Marjory, for sharing this thought-provoking photo!
Springtime Hallmark
My senses are filled
on the perfectly slow day
unfolding you in…
Correction: “this” perfectly slow day
Ohh… your last one is right where I am in this moment… ~ ❤ ~ 🙂
Thank you, Janet, my comment jumped around!
I’m likin’ what you put in there…I love those ‘perfectly slow days’. O-o-o-oh! I think that phrase is going to stick in my brain for those slow, delicious days’!
MmmHmmm… !!!!!
The drifting seed in the wind…beautiful way to close, Janet!! 🙂
Love these, Janet! Especially your second one. 🙂
I love the picnic table!
Once
Once there was a road. It showed
On all the old maps, binding
Village to city, winding
Them closer. Drivers, minding
Its signs, turned, sped, and slowed.
Fords and Chevys, shining chrome,
With men in dark suits guiding
Them, weary women chiding
Tired children bored with riding,
They journeyed safe to home.
That was then. That was before
The soldiers came, with rumbling
Tanks that broke the road, tumbling
Its signs, the city crumbling.
No one—nothing–anymore.
–Kate
Brilliant, KatiePie. Brilliant.
Marie Elena
Thanks. The picture took me in an uncharacteristically sad direction!
Wow, Kate! I did not expect this from you…kind of depressing, in’t it?
Had something to cut-and-paste …. but it was allow me to paste!
WILL NOT allow me to paste that is. Can add write-ins at the end of the site, but not enter comments after other postings.
Interesting to read the postings and comments. Thanks for each.
Since the sign came from a homestead property I know as a child and teen – It did not bring death and danger to me. I expect some of my cousins made the sign hole-ie and I think a shot gun was used. I choos to believe that the sign was not a posted speed limit when shot! MMT
[…] This week’s podcast is a cautionary tale of deep sadness and misery. A failure to communicate, to understand those nearest and dearest to us. It was written in response to an Ekphrastic prompt at Poetic Bloomings and is available in text form here […]
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