POETIC BLOOMINGS

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

PROMPT # 162 – PERSON-TO-PERSON

Today we link back to the last prompt where we were asked to personify our muse. Take some of that magic and personify two things in nature or around your house. Write a poem using ONLY dialogue recounting a conversation they might have.

WALT’S DISCUSSION:

GOOD MORNING WORLD

stll_alarm_clock_snooze

“I’ve got to wake him up!
He’s not waking up!
The man’s dead to the world!

Are you even trying?
He’s buying snoozes
nine minutes at a time.

If you’re so good,
you bring him to life.
The timer is set. Three, two, one… BREW!

Does he smell it?
He can’t smell it.
He can’t smell anything.

Why are you so… alarming?coffee
You were once charming,
but you’re even getting on my nerves.

Wait. He’s starting to stir.
Yessir, one more whine of mine
and he’s good to go…

Oh no! He slapped you silly!
You’re not getting up from that!
Rise and meet your maker! Steady.

Coffee is ready!”

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

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50 thoughts on “PROMPT # 162 – PERSON-TO-PERSON

  1. William Preston on said:

    FISH STORY

    Said the bluegill to the salmon:
    “I wonder if you know
    that fish like you pollute a pond,
    so back to ocean, go!”

    Said the salmon to the bluegill:
    “Out there, the sharks are fierce.
    But here are only weeds and rocks
    and shrimp like you to pierce.”

    The salmon chased the bluegill
    into a cul-de-brook,
    but then his eye espied the gleam
    of damselfly on hook.

    The bluegill watched the salmon
    being hoisted up, and lo,
    the boat that hauled the steelhead in
    was called the Ocean Beau!

    And so:
    being a big fish in a little pool
    does not guarantee a meal in school;
    although
    one may be slippery and sleek,
    the pond yet belongs to the meek.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  2. Hey, you up there, buddie bud!
    Can’t get to you somehow.

    Don’t particularly want you up here,
    you greedy earwig,
    seeing that I want to preserve my petals
    perfectly.
    You tend to nibble on them
    before they are even opened.

    Well, tell me what I’m supposed to eat then.
    Me and my numerous young.

    Dahlias are not the only flowers.
    Go somewhere else.

    But you taste best.

    Not a good enough argument.
    Tell you what:
    you can eat my leaves.
    I can spare some of those.

    What is this gunge anyway.
    This greasy stuff I can’t climb over?

    Grease.
    Axle grease actually.
    Isn’t it great?
    It really keeps you off my buds.

    Grr.
    Wait till it starts raining.

  3. SAID THE OAK TREE, SAID THE SQUIRREL

    Storage here in the middle of the city?
    Did you ever ask for my permission?
    You bury your nuts at the base of me
    As you scurry preparing for winter.

    And what would you charge me?
    A percentage of my bounty?
    A rental fee? Per hour? Per nut?

    It’s just not right to make the assumption
    An oak tree wouldn’t mind giving free board
    To a neighborhood squirrel he hardly knows.
    Why not offer me some token payment?

    But you allow the birds to nest
    And never ask for token worms.
    Why not charge the wind that passes
    Like fire through your branches?

    The birds, the wind, even the falling rain ––
    We made a deal a long time ago.
    Blue jays squawk me awake, the orioles sing,
    Wind caresses, rain’s a sweet lullaby.

    You don’t like my chatter?
    The drum song of my falling nuts?
    The trust I have my cache is safe with you?

    I suppose I’ve been a tad too unbending,
    Greedy like the humans hunting here.
    Go ahead and store your winter sustenance.
    Forget rent. Take all the tree space that you need.

    #

  4. Darlene Hope Franklin on said:

    Four non-humans here

    WHO LOVES MOM BEST?

    I do! I do! My tail wags hello
    My tongue clears her hands
    I take her out for a walk and we play

    I do eet! My song brightens her face
    My bold colors splash joy on gray days
    My molten feathers soften her bed

    We do! Our cedar shavings sweeten the air
    I snuggle against Mom, the wife shivers
    We run the wheel at night to fill the silence

    Whom does Mom love best? That’s the question
    She rubs my silky ears and down my back
    She knows my language—my ears, tail, sounds

    You’re wrong! I’ll prove it
    I’m bigger and stronger than you
    I’ll catch you

    Catch me if you can
    My ancestors caught mice for a living
    I’ll snatch me a gerbil instead

    Don’t you dare
    The gerbil’s my food
    My talons can lift you both

    Stop! She’s home!
    I’ll keep her at the door

    Next time you’re dead

    I’ll run my wheel

    I’ll curl up on the sofa

    Hello!

  5. connielpeters on said:

    The Grapefruit and the Chocolate Bar

    Said the grapefruit to the chocolate bar,
    “I don’t admire your shaky position.
    You are well liked but you will not go far.
    You won’t survive with sweet disposition,
    And you consist of little nutrition.”
    Said the candy to the fruit, “You’re sour!
    Your flavor uninviting and dour.
    It’s me, most people would much rather eat.
    You’ll live longer but you’ll lose your power.
    It’s better for life to be short and sweet.”

  6. Pingback: Bird Learns from Lily | Metaphors and Smiles

  7. Bird Learns from Lily

    Dear Lily White of water
    so still – so quiet – so wise
    will you teach me your angular origami way,
    method of poise and beauty unfolding?
    Guide me in your quiet demeanor
    council me in your still composure
    that I might rise on length of legs
    stand unmoving marsh-side-hidden,
    great of gray – a Heron in waiting.
    Rooted bloom feeding always
    help me to thrive on hope
    for arrival of the rising –
    elusive and mythical muse.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  8. Coffee’s the magic for sure!!

    I like how your two choices compete…fun poem and prompt, Walt!

  9. Said the Toys to the Wrapping Paper

    “Psst…you there with the Pooh Bear characters
    all friendly and marching about with balloons and all
    —what’s the deal? I see scissors and tape just resting
    by the bag on the table but they never do anything
    until the last minute and we’ve been here a long time”

    Eeyore speaks for all of them on the paper,
    “Don’t worry about me…it’s never a good thing to be
    left out and we’re going to be left out, see?”
    The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles strain against
    their packaging, muttering amongst themselves…
    Finally, the cheeky one – Raphael – shouts out,
    “What ? What are you saying about being left out?
    Who’s going to be left out donkey? It is the donkey
    dude saying that nonsense, isn’t it?”

    “Now, now—” wise old Owl chimes in from the paper
    “There’s no need to be rude turtles…you are turtles I
    take it, yes?” For some long moments, it is quiet.
    Now another TMNT, the one with the purple mask,
    Donatello says, “Yeah, we’re turtles, and ninjas, and
    we talk…can you dig it?” More silence.

    Then the venerable bear speaks, “Oh dear,” Pooh
    sounds distressed. “I don’t know what to do. This
    has never happened to me before. We’re supposed
    to go to a child’s birthday party and, and, you’re
    supposed to come with me…I mean us…there’s a
    whole bunch of us…there’s me and Piglet and Roo
    and Tigger and…”
    “Pooh – it’s okay, they don’t need to know all that,”
    Owl says gently, “But what are we going to do?”

    I t was a conundrum, that was for sure – and no-one,
    not the toys and not the wrapping paper
    had the faintest idea of how to cope with this turn
    of events.
    They were all set to go to a tiny boy’s birthday party
    when all of a sudden—
    They weren’t going any more
    Had the party been cancelled? No, not that they could
    tell…it was most peculiar.
    It seemed the people who were taking them to this
    festive occasion had been uninvited
    They’d never heard of such of thing —

  10. The Desk, The Chair, and Me

    Mr High and Mighty Mahagony
    an agonizing desk with
    carved burdened shoulders
    a cluttered head and wobbly knees
    groaned and moaned
    flapping by the window
    scolding me for all its bruises,
    while its dear quiet oak mate
    bare backed and strong boned
    striped blue and stars of gold
    stood patiently listening to all its woes
    while winds unfurled through dusty glows.
    She invites my weary bends to feast
    and sink, to sing its inks and creaks—-

  11. Clean Conversation

    What can I say? They are not
    bath people. Nothing personal.

    I just don’t get it. I am deeper
    than you, infinitely more soakable.
    Why, you can fill me with bubbles.

    Think about it this way, friend,
    spending all that time filling you
    up? They can step right under my spray,
    lather up, and be on their way.

    My romantic ambience is something
    you cannot deny. Candles flickering,
    chilled glass of wine. You can even
    read if you are so inclined.

    Cheer up, pal, I overheard them
    say a friend was coming to stay,
    and she absolutely adores long,
    hot bubble baths.

    Oh, excellent! I will finally
    get to be cleaned.

  12. Flight and Fight

    My head is spinning
    as you dart in and out,
    grumble and taunt
    flaring your tail feathers,
    no detente. Warrior,
    Why are you so greedy?

    I have a thirst that can’t
    be quenched and babies
    to feed and miles to fly.
    Your sweet nectar bids
    me come, partake, you
    temptress, why ask why?

    But, there are four petals
    of ambrosian founts I boast
    yet, only, ever are two
    employed, at most.
    Share and share alike, I say,
    sip sweetly from my lips.

    It’s not my nature
    gentle one, thus God
    has made me and I will trust
    to speed and threat
    to get the energizing brew
    sweeter than nature’s pure dew.

  13. Late to the party but better late than never! 🙂

    The Grass and The Trees but Not the Bumblebees

    “Here she comes!
    Where? I don’t see her!

    Ah, her feet are bare,
    her skin caresses my blades.
    What are you talking about,
    she is crushing you!
    No, no it feels good.

    I think you are nuts.
    Oh, she is coming towards me,
    she has more suet to put in the feeder
    that I hold for her.
    You mean that box,
    hanging by a wire that is cutting into your skin?
    It’s not cutting me!
    See, she is smiling
    and oh.my.gosh.
    she just patted my trunk!
    I’m melting.
    You are pathetic.

    You are just jealous
    Because she only touches you with your feet!
    I am not!

    Oh look, it’s sprinkler time!
    Aw, that feels so good on my roots.
    Yeah, my blades are soaking it in
    and standing tall.
    I love that woman.
    Yeah, me too.”

  14. Pingback: Meow | echoes from the silence

  15. MEOW

    Keep a lookout
    for me
    please.

    Yes,
    from my
    perch, I’ll watch.

    Let me know
    when she’s
    home.

    With
    sun warming
    me, I will.

    Please give me
    warning in
    advance.

    What
    is it
    you are doing?

    She does like
    gifts, doesn’t
    she?

    Not
    the kind
    you usually give.

    Just let me
    know when,
    okay?

    This
    isn’t going
    to end well.

    2014-08-15
    P. Wanken

    NOTE: Happy birthday, tomorrow, to my kitties (Lucy and Tigger). They’ll be 9! There are pictures that accompany the poem on my blog post: http://whenwordsescape.wordpress.com/2014/08/15/meow/

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