We’ve dealt with “Noise” this week. And I was drawn to two poems in this regard. One is rambunctious and very expressive in a loud sort of way. The other dismisses noise as an intrusion and the silence becomes deafening in this sense. And so, I offer two BLOOMS for the prompt. I give a BLOOM to RJ Clarken for “Noise” and one to Vivienne Blake for “Noises Off”

by RJ Clarken

Fwwwap fwwwap fwwwap went my lips
as I sp-sp-spit out some pips

and then gave some thought to Onomatopoeia.

I can grrrrowwwl
or meooooowwww
but just how
does a cow
make a mmmooooo
while she’d chew
on her cud?
This is ud-
derly, sud-
denly noise.
Poem ploys
are just scripts
to eclipse

the more serious kinds of POW! erful stuff that just whifffffffs

(pen or lips.)
Damn those pips!

Scritch scratch scratch
rhyme and kvetch
‘til a wretch-
ed verse is penned……
Here’s my zzzzt frnerk wibblesnok quiridingdingding poem, my friend.

by Vivienne Blake

Whoosh and crash outside
as wind and jet-stream coincide.
A clatter from the kitchen
as someone does the dishes.
Wailing violins from the radio –
I could do without the audio
Silence in the ocean
in the world of fishes.
I think I’ll go there.


This poem is, for me, a superb bit of storytelling, even though it deals with a short incident. I was present with the narrator, breathing too, hee hee hoo, hee hee hoo, even though, as a male, I have no idea and can’t imagine what the experience is like. Yet, though Nancy’s skillful handling of sounds and picture-writing (pillows, blankets and goody bag), I was there. More than anything else, however, what struck me about this poem was how the young couple and the older (I presume) narrator were joined in sharing a common experience, as told in the last stanza. I thought this was wonderful work. Hence my proffered bloom.

by Nancy Posey

They’d call in the middle of the night—
I said they could—to ask if they should go.
Pains were coming on schedule,
feeling like I’d said they would,
radiating from the back to front.

They knew. I knew they knew.
They called for reassurance,
unnecessary permission,
a layman’s advice before they risked
calling the doctor after hours
or driving to the hospital, pillows,
blankets and goody bag in tow,
fearful it was just a false alarm. 

Somehow I could tell, when
in the middle of a sentence,
she’d stop. I could hear it
in the silence over the phone.

Get your focal point, I’d tell her,
take a cleaning breath, then breathe:
slowly, in through your nose
and out through your mouth.

I’d hear her shift to the hee hee hoo
hee hee hoo, a panting to handle
more than the early twinges
of a body ready to unload its cargo
after nine months. Go, I’d say.
Call if you need me. You’ll be fine.

Before falling back to sleep again,
I’d find myself breathing hee hee hoo,
hee hee hoo before slowing returning
to breathing–in through my nose–
and out through my mouth. 


As expected, forms that were used exemplify the poets that chose them. It was easy to see where their expression takes root. One poem came center stage a bit more than the rest. The thoughts expressed came cascading in imagery. It was only fitting that the form used was the Cascade. Barbara Young this BLOOM is for you!

by Barbara Young
Where would I stand
If the world passed in parade today?
On the basket-woven ancient cobble,
Or the flat plates of beehive pave?

If this were the end,
If I were obliged to fit my actions
To my words and judge my fellow man,
Where would I stand?

It’s so damn easy to condemn
The floats of war, the martial brass bands.
Could I sweep all uniforms off the streets
If the world passed in parade today?

Should I slaughter the poachers
And return the elephants to their homes,
Uncage the giant cats to find their prey
On the basket-woven ancient cobble?

Who comes behind
To judge my judgments? And who follows him?
Who would dare be on the reviewing stand
Or the flat plates of beehive pave?


CONGRATULATIONS to RJ Clarken, Vivienne Blake, Nancy Posey and Barbara Young on your selections for the BEAUTIFUL BLOOM.