Today we revisit the concept of a bucket list of sorts. We begin each year with big plans, starting with our seldom kept New Year’s resolutions. We brainstorm ideas of things to do, places to see and people with whom we’ve been meaning to catch up. But again, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.


Often seen through the course of a life well lived (and a questionable continuance) we hear tell of people’s half-hearted attempt to squeeze more life out of the time they have. But what we’re looking at as we near the halfway point of the summer season here in the North American continent, (and other seasons around the world) are the plans that you made that have fallen through for some reason. Maybe they didn’t fit into your schedule at this time. Perhaps finances became an issue. Possibly there had been a life altering situation in your realm of influence that prevents you from carrying it out. Whatever the reason, tell us what you missed out on so far this year that you wished you hadn’t! There’s still time to do it mind you, but maybe committing it to page will be just the thing to motivate you to get it done!

Write your poem based on these thoughts!



No visits from friends
back east. Beast known
as age is rearing it head.
Knees, hips, lack of funds,
well, after all, we were
the ones who moved
across country. I miss
not sharing all that we have
discovered in neighborhoods
out here. Wait. As I write
this, we get a call. All is not
lost. Niece and spouse
are coming in. Their son is beginning
college in Portland. Look forward
to seeing them in couple
of weeks. I am already thinking
where we can take them,
what to cook, and how homey
the house will feel with visitors




 It’s a peaceful repast to our day,
which fulfills us in every way.
It always seems we spend time in daydreams,
and not enough on just living, I’d say!

(A Gwawdodyn)


(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

42 thoughts on “PROMPT #189 – ANOTHER BUCKET LIST



    They say friends are friends forever
    that distances cannot sever,
    but in case of fate
    or words that berate:
    better late
    than never.

  2. Sara, your piece reminds me of the old saying, “home is where the heart is.” Your heart-warming poem makes me think of a corollary: “home, sweet home, is where the loved ones are.”

  3. Walt, I liked your wise little poem and the implied invitation to use a form. In my case I tried a clogynach.


    I have the greatest admiration for
    the tenement mouse that stuck to his plan
    of decrypting the wicked trap mystery
    that deterred lesser mice from the sliver
    of Swiss cheese, the treasure under the steel spring.

    Maybe my daring hero took a stand
    because Daddy and Mommy Mouse taught him
    persistence, that live-or-die mentality.
    Perhaps they lullabied him through infancy
    with the mantra, “Go for it, Go for it.”

    I don’t know for sure, but his best-laid plan
    paid off: he stole the cheese, he scampered away,
    he survived the snap of bone-crushing steel.
    “Am I a man or a mouse?” shames me.
    So many plans I made went awry without cheese

    To comfort me now in my old age.
    I never pulled fame from a magic hat.
    I hesitated too often and found
    myself lost to the door I didn’t knock,
    but I spend little time regretting it all.



    Being There

    I’m nearly seventy-two
    and he wants a list
    Another list?
    A birthday wish list?
    I know, I know,
    what would our friend Walt do?
    He’d write and write and write,
    and they’d all be great,
    and they’d all be interesting,
    and we’d all read them
    and we’d all have ink envy…again.

    I mean, I have lots of stories,
    lots of lists, so
    that’s no problem, and
    it’s too late now to worry about
    too much exposure, but, let’s see…

    Maybe we could talk more than we do,
    though we don’t seem to need to.
    Maybe we could buy me some new clothes,
    have me dress more fabulously,
    but I’d just wear tee shirts anyhow.
    Maybe we could dance the night away,
    stay out late, make some noise,
    but bedtime’s when the music starts,
    so, you know…
    Maybe we could go to parties,
    hit a beach Bar-B-Q,
    but a couple friends at home or lunch
    is way more comfy.

    Wait, I know…
    maybe we could forget about lists,
    bucket or otherwise.
    Maybe we could simply enjoy this
    present moment,
    beautiful moment,
    wonderful moment.

    A Poet’s Schedule

    Write it down, write it down, write it down,
    then you’ll not lose those verbs, nor one noun.
    Get to your chore, write of sea, or of shore,
    then award to yourself your own crown.

    Succulent Summer

    Watermelon, okra, cantaloupe
    Summer crisp bring my taste buds fresh hope
    Okra can be frozen but not chosen
    Quick trip to the garden helps me cope

  8. This Summer

    When winter tarries,
    I imagine taking walks
    all over the neighborhood,
    through the canyons,
    and up to the mountain top.

    But now during summer,
    the only mountains I meet
    are dishes, school work and paperwork.

    When it cools,
    maybe ’ll have a little time
    to feel uneven ground underfoot
    blue skies, pines and golden aspens overhead
    with silver slivers of falls in the distance.

  9. My bucket-list includes a trip to the desert for star-gazing, where no artificial light masks the sky’s wonders.

    Desert Stars

    I want to see the triumph of stars
    bewildered by day. Chased into far
    away skies, in desert-wide nights that hide
    starlight. Star bright. A comet’s scar

    © Misky 2016
    Poetic Form: Gwawdodyn

  10. Lost Bucket List

    I placed each dream carefully
    in the bucket
    stacked in the order in
    which I
    wished to complete them
    it rained and my bucket overflowed
    spilling dreams in a jumble
    on the lawn
    with great effort I
    set them back in
    the proper order
    the cat walked past
    rubbing her side against
    my bucket and dreams
    tumbled out willy-nilly
    once again I put those
    dreams in order, one by one,
    until that bucket was filled
    to the brim and then I
    moved my bucket into
    the house where the
    wagging tail of a puppy
    sent dreams rolling down
    the hall
    I chased those dreams
    around the house and when
    the bucket was full again –
    in no particular order –
    I sat down with a cup of tea,
    a purring cat, and a tired puppy
    maybe reading a good book
    in a comfy chair should be
    first on my bucket list

  11. I thought I’d better give this form a try
    Things We Do For Love

    If you want to travel to the moon
    or even sky dive some afternoon
    I will come with you – horseback or canoe
    your bucket list our dream honeymoon

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