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


Today, your muse is directed to one of three things. As we draw near the fall season, I notice the animals in the neighborhood changing their pattern. The domestics seem to draw close to home, where the “wild” animal are foraging for the months to come. Flushed out from the reservoir, the deer come down to pick the pears and apples that have fallen, ripe for the taking. The groundhog started burrowing to prepare their winter resting place.

Also, fall is harvest time! (Check the Harvest Moon!) The farmer’s market is thriving as the crops are brought to market and sold. Fresh fruits and vegetables and floral plants are offered at a fair price and find their way onto our table more as these days dwindle down.

Mineral things round out the bill (and fills our last item in the adage!)

For this week’s prompt, write a poem of something animal, vegetable or mineral. The choice could be the title of the poem, the subject of the poem, a bit part in the poem. Discover what surrounds us. Everything in life is either animal, vegetable or mineral! And as always, have fun.




Red, hearty Honeycrisp apples,
and Barlett pears, pair up with green
and white striped squash, and bold

orange pumpkins. Last group of Italian
prune plums are on sale. Tails of brown
silk trail ends of corn ears, piled

up on stands, a checkerboard
of sweet mixed kernels–
white and yellow. Scent

of apple cider spices the air.
Fare of farmer’s markets lures
customers with promise of Autumn.




Guinness and Marvel

Guinness and Marvel Photo by Melissa Kruse

Guinness is “our” rescue dog.
She has been gracing our lives for years.
Her ears flop when she runs
but she seems to have slowed down a bit.
And it is always a joy to see
the excitement in her wagging tail.
She has accepted us at long last,
no longer skittish and defensive,
no longer afraid or pensive.
She’s a good girl.

Marvel is her new little “sister”.
Another dog saved from a life of cruelty,
the rule to me is, if you save one
you save yourself in the process.
This little one is an explorer
and more bold than her bigger companion.
A Boston Terrier/ Dachshund mix,
a “Bodash” by breed and I need a towel
when she launches into my arms with sloppy wet
“kisses”. This little miss is a fine addition!

In five weeks (October 23) we will celebrate our 200th prompt at Poetic Bloomings. We will begin gathering submissions from our Poetic Bloomings poets for our anthology collection. It’s been a while since we assembled one and I think it’s time we did. Poets who have written to our prompts or our inform poets selections are eligible to submit up to five of such poems for consideration. Further details will be presented as we near the Oct. 23rd date. So start perusing your poetic pearls to select your poems for consideration.

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    squirrels scurry for trees —
    umbrella leaves shelter them
    from cool autumn rain

    for one quick moment
    the squirrel racing through the snow
    turned his head to me

    fall’s gifts of acorns
    squirrels bury for winter meals —
    underground treasures

    millions of trees grow
    when squirrels can’t remember where
    they buried their nuts

    Two gray squirrels race
    toward an acorn and collide —
    the wind blows it away

    Stars of snow white-out
    the moon in their sky escape —
    Squirrels run for cover.

  2. William Preston on said:


    I stand alone and watch the piling clouds
    erupt across the sea. A storm is near
    and all is growing numb: the coming shrouds
    obscure the tropics’ azure atmosphere.
    Then, suddenly, on a rock beside my head,
    a tiny brown bird sings a lilting score:
    he throws his feathered weight at lurking dread
    and struts his way along Hawaii’s shore.
    Captivated, I watch him leap and scold
    the quiet. Happiness intrudes upon
    my soul; this little shaft of chestnut gold
    is singing back the hope I lost anon.
    What marvellous serendipity; how he
    is here today, before I go to Maui!

  3. William Preston on said:

    Walt, I love yourt pieces about your dogs. Once again, I wonder who is rescuing whom.

  4. William Preston on said:

    Sara, your piece has me salivating!

  5. Walt, Sal, William, Sara, thank you for your constancy and the beauty of your works. I apologize for my inconstancy of submissions. I have a rigorous homework schedule as part of my PTSD treatment, (which is going very well), and recently began a class in my Center for Spiritual Living which has even more homework, journalling, logs, reading, and so on. I do find time to read here, however, and thoroughly enjoy doing so.

  6. Plucking Autumn

    This autumn day is wrapped in grains
    of golden light that falls as rain might
    gather or as hours might braid without
    a hand’s restraint. We pull wheat tight
    through fingers, pluck ripe berries that
    trickle purple in heavy drops of stain.
    And winter waits another day.

  7. Earl Parsons on said:

    Diabetic Cat

    Diabetic Cat
    Every day he gets two shots
    Doesn’t seem to mind
    Long as there’s a plate of food
    Waits until the shot is done
    Like he knows the shot means life

    © Earl Parsons

    And I really do have a diabetic cat.

  8. connielpeters on said:

    Playing catch up.


    She hops about
    Searching for food
    With joey in her pocket.
    She nibbles on grass
    And sees you coming
    Then takes off like a rocket.


    The carrot wears
    Its feathered cap.
    And hides beneath the ground.
    Loosen its soil
    Then pull it up.
    While it’s still pointing down.


    Titanium is silver
    Low density and strong
    In soils, water, and rocks.
    It makes good glasses
    Jewelry and phones
    But keep it from my socks.

  9. A Curbside Accumulation of Delectable Abundance
    by Randy Bell and Chris Dunn
    Morning-tide swell mounts
    To crescendo of street sounds
    Callused hands,
    Weighted with wisdom,
    Unload crates of ripened orbs.
    Conspicuous eager stares await
    Bounty of produce
    Slowly piling on farmers-market tables.
    Natural honest farmhands trade smiles,
    A tip of a straw hat
    Hard profiles eased by the camaraderie
    Of labor.
    Communal bonding not hoodwinked by
    Cigarette-break fame.
    The sweet slavery of prayers
    Gather on a spiced breeze,
    Relieved by Autumn’s yield prosperous—
    Harvested rewards, flowing from prior season,
    From a different sun, higher, hotter, unforgiving.
    Loose coin rolls through growing crowd
    As barefoot urchin dashes after.
    Old women scrutinize reverently
    The fondled tomatoes and squashes.
    I cannot, for blemishes stare back at me
    Like my own flaws,
    Yet I sense mortality flee, and curiosity wither.
    Thoughts now slant towards a familiar cutting board
    And sharpened steel knife
    That will soon transform
    My freshly picked bounty
    Into tasty morsels.

    ~ © jointly penned by bluemeaniemeltsdown & xperdunn.com 2016 ~

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