POETIC BLOOMINGS

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

GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – CAMP DANCE; SUMMER ROMANCE

July 22 – We’re winding down this month of camping. And we always celebrate it with the Camp Dance. Maybe we met new friends and earned new infatuations; maybe we re-kindled old acquaintances. Either way, we want you to write a summer romance (love) poem. (And I hope you all realized, this month was never about the camp, it was about writing a poem a day. If you ventured near any aspect of these prompts, you earned your accolades!)

 

STAYING ON THE TRAIL

July 21 – SCAVENGER HUNT

July 20 – RENAISSANCE CAMP

July 19 – AMPHIBIANS, ARACHNIDS AND REPTILIANS

July 18 – THIS AND THAT

July 17 – SURVIVOR

Single Post Navigation

53 thoughts on “GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – CAMP DANCE; SUMMER ROMANCE

  1. William Preston on said:

    TROTH

    I love you, darling. This, I know:
    deep in my soul I love you so.

    Your love is balm that soothes my heart;
    a comfort even though we part.

    My days of life are filled with you,
    in visions sharp and clear and true,

    and in a dance forever in tune;
    united as the stars and moon.

    No matter how our lives may go,
    I love you, darling; that, you must know.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

    • I love the unity in the stars and moon…I found the stars and moon in my piece as well. This poem holds a reliable cadence cause for a dance-like rhythm…I enjoyed this, William!

  2. IN THE MIDDLE OF A TUNE
    WE STOPPED DANCING

    Like a canary in a coal mine
    she stopped singing.
    Suddenly in mid-note she turned
    her back and walked away.

    Tell me then, what is that song
    lilting in my head?
    I heard it once again
    while I was sleeping.

    She stopped singing all those songs
    we set our feet to dancing,
    happy songs to start and end
    the routines of our day.

    In a coda of silence she walked away.
    Now the air is just air,
    the birds do what they can,
    but it’s never quite the same.

    The notes of her melodies
    once danced everywhere,
    so much so we stepped in line
    and swore her songs defined us,

    but she stopped singing.
    Silence reared its monster mouth
    and in a flash devoured
    all her joyful tunes.

    In the throes of play,
    without warning nor goodbye,
    she gathered up her songs
    and walked away

    #

  3. flashpoetguy on said:

    DANCING TO MY OWN TUNE

    out of kilter
    with the world
    I slow dance
    to the booming
    discord of rap

    #

  4. Walt! Thank you for the reminder that the focus is on writing a poem a day!! Yesterday, I spent all day trying to write my wordle and being disappointed because it just didn’t sound right!!

    • The notice here, Henri, is our numbers are way down. I think to many saw the camping theme as undesirable or un-doable. But the theme has ALWAYS been secondary to the process. If you want to follow the camping lead, you’re welcome to. But any prompt could stand alone with you poems. Creative Bloomings has always been about you and your poetry. W.

  5. connielpeters on said:

    Campfire Romance

    To the tune
    of peep frogs and crickets,
    Kumbaya and acoustic tones by the fire,
    your eyes flickered,
    reflecting the flame of my heart.

    When we go our separate ways
    will the fire fade
    to glowing embers
    and then finally snuff out,
    dead and cold?

  6. First

    A cascade of stars
    was all I could see,
    as she was walking
    forward to me.

    She grabbed my hand
    and pulled me out,
    to dance with her
    I wanted to shout.

    The tempo slowed down
    and she snuggled in close,
    I held her in my arms…
    wow, girls aren’t gross.

    My friends were snickering
    but I gave them no mind,
    I had heaven in my arms
    they were just blind.

    I led her away
    from those snickering fools,
    gave her a kiss
    we broke a few rules.

    I’ve never forgotten
    my first dance and kiss,
    it was the first time
    I discovered true bliss.

  7. RJ Clarken on said:

    summer memories
    wrapped in a crumpled tissue…
    a charm against time

  8. Priti on said:

    Eye Contact

    The link, before the blink of the eye
    The glimmer before the light sees the sky
    The silence, before we shape our words
    A signal from,– ‘out there’, that senses unfurl

    Just a look, a flick, a feeling, a glance,
    Can make your insides sing and dance
    So many, soooo many scrolls out there
    But, there is pure magic, in just one stare

    Expansions, contractions involuntary reactions
    Some illusive transactions, magnetic refractions
    Antennas serenading, unseen, unspoken
    With echoes and rhythms, of songs from the ocean

    Is it my mind conspiring a dream?
    Or is there really a stream in the gleam?
    Some shooting stars from heavens above
    An uplifting joy, a fallingin love’!

    I can’t remember what I said to him
    And don’t recall the name of his skin
    But, nothing can REALLY explain the game
    Why, nothing felt —the same again!!

  9. I’ve done most of them, and have written at least 1 poem a day, sometimes 3 or 4, sometimes to other people’s prompts. I’ve just spent about 3 hours proofreading for my daughter and then lost the document, and spent another two hours trying to find it, so poetry is now the last thing on my mind!

  10. CAMPING HEAT

    The last glowing ember
    will make me remember the spark.
    It was more than a lark
    we enjoyed in the dark. Fire,
    flames shooting higher
    than those on a pyre, would be
    the defining of “we”
    warming any cold December.

    © Susan Schoeffield

  11. Pingback: Camping Heat | Words With Sooze

  12. (Poem w/image: http://lettheballoonssailmeaway.wordpress.com)

    Wallflower

    What would we do if we could dance?
    A sensuously close melding
    Lighter than the very air we
    Breathe…

  13. Mixed Up Love

    Monday last we all showed up
    Gathered together in the meeting hall
    So glad to see friends from last year
    And time to check out the new faces

    Met the counselors and the staff
    The cooks, lifeguards, and medics
    Got the schedule of events and
    Our cabin assignments and bedding

    At Bible Camp there’s so much to do
    On the move every wakin’ hour
    All endin’ in the Friday Mixer
    A time to mix things up and dance

    We all packed one special outfit
    Just to impress other’s at the Mixer
    For me I’d already picked my prey
    Been watchin’ her every day from afar

    All scrubbed up and smellin’ good
    Makin’ my move at the Friday Mixer
    Gonna’ practice and time it just right
    Hopin’ she gives in to my charms

    There she is comin’ through the door
    Prettier than ever, all the jaws drop
    The boys gather ‘round her like vultures
    She ignores every last one of them

    I take a deep breath and look her way
    Shocked that she’s lookin’ over at me
    With a smile and a wink she beckons
    Make way for love at the Friday Mixer

    © 2014 Earl Parsons

  14. ejparsons on said:

    By the way, I really like the camp theme. It’s brought back a lot of memories from days long past.

  15. Pingback: Myth-Makers | Metaphors and Smiles

  16. Myth-Makers

    It feels like it’s only you and just me in this sphere of a moment and within this sensation of only us we’re held in un-pop-able magic – we’re seized in a just-us-starriness. We breathe deeply of this no-goodbyes-breath unwilling to leave this pulsing-present-instant, not ready yet to rest and allow only us to shift into just memories. We’re not prepared to let Love’s reflection fade from our lake’s sapphire surface but we’ll be sure to walk away without regrets – when the time arrives there’ll be no wish-I-would-haves lingering here. We’re those last persistent dragonflies, hungry-swooping gathering in all that we can while we can. We’re a nesting pair of arrow-tailed swallows determined to try for one more clutch. We’ve discovered telling patterns in each other’s pores – storied one another’s skin and read, in full length, the mystery of our eyes but still we begin afresh. As new butterflies alighting on a sunny leaf to dry their wings, we open slowly – enthralled with it all.

    We’re myth-makers
    memorizing only us –
    moon as our witness.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

    • Wm Preston on said:

      I think this is superb. The hyphenated constructs have a subtle wizardry, and the sensual images set up the concluding haiku so well. Wonderful haibun, this.

  17. Granada Gala

    Cody asked Charlotte if she’d like to dance.
    Charlotte had thought she did not have a chance,
    ’cause Marsha posed like a movie star,
    batted long lashes at him from afar.
    Beth had eyes of cobalt blue,
    and jet black hair in a fancy do.
    Cody and Charlotte danced all night;
    they later star-gazed by firelight.
    With only one week to go until camp’s end,
    they were inseparable, rounding each bend.
    The two exchanged addresses, pledging to write
    every day of their love so bright.
    Cody gave Charlotte a wood-carved rose;
    they swore they’d marry, but you know how that goes.

  18. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – YOUR AREA ADVENTURES | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  19. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – IT’S RAINING, AGAIN (OUTSIDE): INTERVIEW WITH PEARL KETOVER-PRILIK | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  20. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – AT YOUR SERVICE | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  21. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – THREE-LEGGED RACE | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

  22. Pingback: GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – BARREL OF MONKEYS | CREATIVE BLOOMINGS

Plant your poem or comment here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: