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


Let’s talk about food, shall we? We all have a favorite food. Maybe it is something your mother or grandmother made… a family recipe. Or perhaps there is a local eatery that has the best… whatever it is. Tell us in poem form what you crave more times than not! If your taste buds are easily satisfied write about that place, be it a national chain, a “Mom and Pop” Restaurant or a food truck that makes the rounds. Give us a taste of your epicurean tastes!



to make–
scents waft by
me–Mom’s stuffed cabbage,
Grandma’s potato knishes, or
sweet cheese blintzes, dollops of sour cream for dipping. Then,
there is my friend Kate’s lemon chicken, my husband’s spicy chili, and gumbo, plus crisp
pizza from Denino’s, and cannoli’s from Brooklyn. Not to sell myself short, my
eggplant parmigiana, peach crumb pie, and a sinful pecan.
So, as you can see, there is variety in my diet, not many foods I do not like, with two
exceptions–lima beans, and okra–both a sickly green color, with unpleasant
texture. I have not even included wine!


I was fortunate
on September 11th.
Not caught in flames, I watched
from a bus window, thinking
my building is gone–who was lost?


FISH FRY (Epulaeryu)

Broiled or breaded, it said
with fries on the side.
Cole slaw or macaroni/
potato salad.
The true Polish way.
“Two to go!”


Today also marks the 15th anniversary of the 911 tragedy in NYC. You may also post tribute poems to memorialize this day. New poems and previously written poems will be accepted.




He gives them repose; a long journey ended
and all who had risen to the occasion knew
their rest was well earned. Not how they would
have wanted, but God never asked them
what they wanted. He gave them what He knew
they could handle. And so, brave and stoic,
extremely heroic they were at peace with
the decision that was made. Honor in their way;
on their terms. A rest well earned
and on that day they learned their limitations.
Strong enough to defend their nation.
In control on the command, “Let’s Roll”.
In verdant pastures, the Shepherd
snatched them up to rest peacefully.
They needed and wanted nothing more.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik




There were five sides to every story,
in a place where glory was the prize earned
through valiant effort and selfless sacrifice.
It would have been nice to face your attackers,
but cowardly slackers destined to fail their main mission
sat in a position to cause as much damage as they could.
Would they have succeeded, we would have pleaded
for mercy. But we don’t play that way. The heroes
in New York and Pennsylvania had back-up
in the Nation’s capitol. On patrol and wresting control
back from the faceless assailant.  Our own mission clear.
Do not lead out of fear. Defend out of honor and respect
of those who had given so much for the cause of many.
In any instance, there remains five sides to every story.
In honor and glory, they died for a cause,
earning our undying devotion and endless applause.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik




A principle was attacked amidst
tears and destruction; a surreal snapshot
of a day worth forgetting. But no one did.
How do you forget the sight; the sound?
How do you forget the faces; the screams?
How do you diminish the sacrifice?
The word ‘impossible’ was tailor made
for this moment in time. Despair and
disbelief would be usurped by anger
and determination to not allow those who
put it all on the line, go quietly into that good night.
It became a fight to rise each day to face
the insurmountable task one brick at a time.
As many bricks as there were tears shed.
As many shards of glass as there were screams
of torment and terror. But the greatest error
made by a faceless ideology was assuming
we were broken and defeated. But the foresight
of three brothers of the fraternity most depleted
showed we were not defeated. Through the rubble
it stood in defiance. A naked flagpole planted
among the girders and debris. A symbol; our banner
raised high. A declaration loud and clear.
We are still here. We will not go gently.
Together we stand, a shield for liberty.
You took your shot and failed. An American Tale…
and the flag was still there! America had been blessed

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik

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26 thoughts on “PROMPT #194 – THE BEST THING I EVER ATE


    We cannot bring them back.
    They are gone. Only shadows
    Of their memories darken
    our neighborhood streets.
    When we speak of them
    our words are old as yesterday.
    But wouldn’t it be grand
    If each of us reached out
    and saved one life,
    pulled someone out of danger,
    tried to mend a broken heart,
    took the time to turn a life around,
    cared enough to make a child feel loved,
    stopped the senseless pain of loneliness,
    gave someone the gift of laughter,
    offered the hopeless a sunny day?

    We cannot bring them back.
    The victims of that September are gone.
    But if three thousand of us
    Pledged today to save a life
    We could fill the spaces left behind,
    We could each hold a neighbor’s hand
    In an unbroken ring of solidarity.
    We could celebrate new miracles.
    We could stop the weeping.
    We could learn to be unafraid.


    © 2002 Salvatore Buttaci


    I still remember my senior prom:
    Eileen Jones cutting her steak
    and watching it fly off her plate
    onto the dance floor and how mortified
    I was, but not Eileen who called the waiter
    and ordered another well-done rib eye.

    The day before the prom I skimmed a book
    about table manners: which fork for salads,
    where to place the linen napkin,
    how not to speak around the steak I’d chew.
    I’m certain Eileen never read that book.
    Faux pas (she pronounced them “folks pass”)
    never brought her blush or shame.

    Even now when Sharon and I eat
    at Texas Steakhouse, I’m that prom fool
    again, bronco-busting a medium rare,
    cutting away slowly, my fork deep
    in the heart of this Texas sirloin,
    doing my Eileen-best to enjoy the ride.


  3. I think I’ll stick with the food prompt; the other is still just too dreadful to recall.

    As I Recall

    It wasn’t
    the white cake with
    white frosting with
    shredded coconut, or
    pink spindle-turned candles,
    or all the balloons
    that Dad blew-up before
    he drove off to work,
    or the all-beef hotdogs
    with green pickle relish
    and squirts of yellow mustard,
    or as many potato chips
    as I wanted to eat,
    nor was it the clown with
    the enormous red shoes.
    As I recall, it was
    the pink pleated paper cups
    filled with salted cashews.
    That’s was the best bit
    of my 8th birthday party.

    © Misky 2016.

  4. William Preston on said:


    Because she used crisp Northern Spies,
    Mom’s apple pies could not be beat;
    I lusted for November pies
    because she used crisp Northern Spies,
    and from her autumn enterprise
    she gave us all the perfect treat
    because she used crisp Northern Spies.
    Mom’s apple pies could not be beat.

  5. Earl Parsons on said:

    In Remembrance:

    His Mighty Hand
    By Earl Parsons

    Looking to pick a fight with God, Satan faced Him eye to eye.
    He look down on America with a smile and asked God “Why?”
    “Why do You love this country so, it’s sinful and grotesque.
    It doesn’t worship You any more. And morally, it’s a mess.
    I’ve got them hooked on money and lust and every other vice.
    How can You love them after what they’ve done to paradise?”

    Then God said, “Lucifer, you know there’s still hope for this land.
    There are many who love and worship Me and need My guiding hand.
    And with the leadership I’ve picked, they’re turning back to Me.
    Your reputation’s weakening, and it bothers you, I can see.”

    “I’m not weak, it’s America, and I can prove it to You, God.
    Just let me have my way with them, and I’ll convince them You’re a fraud.
    Give me a year to crush their spirits and they’ll all turn their backs on You.
    Remove Your hand of protection and let me do what I want to do.”

    “A year,” said God, “That’s far too long. Though it’s not you that I fear.
    Still I’ve seen the devastation you can cause in just one year.
    You’re murdering My people through false religions filled with hate.
    By the millions, they claim Jesus, as your army seals their fate.
    Their slaughtered souls are crying out, still My church lay fast asleep.
    So many dead and dying, still My people do not weep.”

    “I wonder,” God continued, “How much pain can be inflicted
    Before my people rise in unity? When will they be convicted?
    Perhaps you have a point; I should place America in harm’s way.
    So, Satan, I’ll give you one last chance to take their spirit away.
    You cannot have a year, a month, or even a single week.
    One day is all you’ll have. Let’s see what havoc you can wreak.”

    Then Satan said, “That’s all the time I’ll need to fulfill my plan.
    In fact, In just a few hours I’ll lay waste Your precious land.
    The carnage I have planned for them is like none they’ve ever seen.
    When I am done, they’ll look at You and ask why You’re so mean.
    I’ll break their spirits and crush their faith in Jesus and in You.
    And when I’ve broken America, there’ll be no hope for Your Jews.”

    Then God replied, “You underestimate the power of the blood.
    Be careful what you do, for you may drown beneath the flood
    Of patriotic emotions brought on by your evil attack.
    My spirit lives in America and you cannot vanquish that.
    Now leave my presence, Satan, and get on with your evil plan.
    But don’t come crying to me when united my people stand.

    So, God lifted His protective hand and let Satan have his way.
    The evil fell from the skies and many thousands died that day.
    As Satan watched his army strike, he couldn’t help but laugh.
    He’d horrified America and stopped the country in its path.
    His plan seemed nearly perfect; the USA was on her knees.
    Then Satan bellowed “No!” as America prayed, “God, help us, please.”

    Then someone clenched a fist and said, “Is that the best that you can do?”
    And suddenly, everywhere Satan looked he saw red, white and blue.
    “This can’t be!” Lucifer screamed at God. “I only hear one voice!
    I killed three thousand people and these Americans rejoice?
    What if I kill a million more? Would they hate You after all?”
    “You’ve had your chance,” God intervened. “America’s standing tall.”

    God smiled as Satan slumped in shame, disbelief was on his face.
    His assault against America was now his own disgrace.
    But before he left, he had to challenge God one final time.
    “You knew that this would happen, no matter what the crime,
    You knew that they’d unite and call upon Your holy name.
    You used me, God, to wake Your sleeping giant once again!”

    “No, Lucifer, I used you not. Remember just who asked who.
    I simply gave you permission to do what you wanted to do.
    If you think about it, you had it made long before this calamity.
    You see, so many in America had turned their backs on Me.
    You woke them up, and they realized their freedom was at stake.
    In doing so, you brought them back to Me. That was your mistake.”

    Satan once again defeated, took his demons back to hell.
    He thought he’d beaten America when both the towers fell.
    Forgotten were the days of patriotism, faith and prayer.
    But Satan was reminded that God’s foundation was still there.
    America will not be taken down by Satan or his evil band.
    We’ll call on Almighty God to protect us with His mighty hand.

    America the beautiful, no terrorist can bring us down.
    We’ll stand united, under God, in every city and town.
    One nation, indivisible, ready to answer our country’s call.
    We’ll bring terrorism to an end, and guarantee freedom for all.
    With God, we cannot lose this fight, together we must pray
    That He will write our battle plans, and bless the USA.

    And on this anniversary of that infamous day in September,
    The message rings out loud and clear: We always must remember
    Those who died by Satan’s hand, and those left in their wake.
    And don’t forget our men and women who fight for freedom’s sake.
    But, most of all remember Satan wants to rule this land,
    And he will win if we don’t hold on to God’s protective hand.


    “What I say is that, if a man really likes potatoes, he must be a pretty decent sort of fellow.” ― A.A. Milne

    And when one celebrates the spud
    one cannot dwell on schadenfreude.
    Potatoes are the earth. They’ve soul. They’ve eyes.
    O fries, or mashed or whole.

    That’s whole, like baked, with bits of chive
    and sour cream. One must just dive
    right in and bring the fork to lips. Degust
    robust prepackaged chips.

    Or crisps. That’s how they say it in
    the British Isles (with seasoned skin.)
    So yummy is this pomme de terre! Conclude?
    This food’s beyond compare.


  7. connielpeters on said:


    In a big iron skillet,
    Mom would cook venison,
    (We just called it deer meat)
    with gravy until tender
    and I didn’t care so much
    about the corn, tomatoes,
    potatoes, lettuce plucked
    right from the garden. I
    could have eaten venison,
    just venison, and I would
    have been happy.

  8. William Preston on said:

    Venison was a benison. So’s the verse.

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