We’re all here because we are creative people. Some of us in more ways than we admit. But none is no more and no less talented than the next. We achieve our own level of “greatness.”
And we flaunt it, as we should. There’s a difference between pride (one of the seven deadlies) and accomplishment. Baseball legend Dizzy Dean was known to say, “It ain’t braggin’ if you can back it up!” More times than not, others lift us up to those lofty standards and sing our praises. That’s the community we have created here at POETIC BLOOMINGS.
The majority of us have established a “blog” in which to showcase our stories or photos. We display our artwork. We proffer our poetry for those so inclined. What do you call your “special place?” What is the name of your blog? What do you call it? That is the title of this week’s offering. Give us the name of the site that touts YOU! What inspired that name? We’d be happy to know that. And for the last line of your comment, give us the URL of this incredible cavern of creativity. We’d like to visit whatchamacallit!
But you may also be saying, “Walt? What if I don’t really keep a blog?” Well, think of what you’d call it if you did? Write what your dream site would be, and maybe we can help you make your dream come true.
MARIE’S PLACE:
PICTURED WORDS
They say a picture paints a thousand words.
The pairing of the two gives me delight.
And if a picture paints a thousand words,
Then picture this: a picture painted write.
The pairing of the two gives me delight –
A complement of image with my words –
Appealing to my mind, and to my sight.
Perhaps a picture paints a thousand words
But here is what I try hard to pursue:
I strive to bat a thousand, with a few.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
My little blog, Pictured Words, may be found here: https://picturedwords.me/
WALT’S SANCTUARY:
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET’S HEART
The poet’s heart is a sanctuary,
a haven for the emotive side
of life. Love is a common thread.
It is said that love grows
through the eyes of a poet’s heart.
Compassion is expressed in the actions
we perform to the benefit of others
needing its caress. We feel best
when we give to the cause, no applause
through the eyes of the poet’s heart.
Nature sparks our muses, it chooses
who embraces her realm,
at the helm is the Grand Master,
providing inspiration for our words
often heard through the eyes of a poet’s heart.
Also dwelling is the telling
of who we are, from whence we came
and where we’d like to be. We see ourselves,
dusted off of the shelves of life
written through the eyes of a poet’s heart.
Our hearts envision what our eyes refuse to see,
through the eyes of a poet’s heart.
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2018
Through the Eyes of a Poet’s Heart @ www.wojisme.wordpress.com
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Love this, Walt and Marie! No one has ever asked me about the why behind my blog, which is called Words from the Heart.
I called it that because I felt strongly that when we speak (write) from the heart we bless the world. Too often words are used as weapons. One of my first blog posts was about how words can hurt and damage others. I wanted to write things that lifted people up, gave them something to hold onto, inspired them, educated them or simply gave them a moment of joy in an otherwise hectic day.
I don’t always write poetry on my blog, though. Sometimes it is informative, other times musing. I guess there is something there for everyone who wants to look.
My blog can be found at: https://contemplativeed.blogspot.com/
Blessings to all!
What lovely thoughts. What especially strikes me is “…or simply gave them a moment of joy in an otherwise hectic day.” *sigh* Wonderful! Looking forward to your poem about it
And this makes me realize I have never followed your blog. I just now subscribed.
It true there is a reason behind our choices. I’m sure for most poets/writers that is the case. Although we’ll see the occasional silly or sarcastic title emerge, ours will reflect something about us. Your blog sort of parallels mine as my poems are heart driven as well. I look forward to reading more of your works and will add a link to your blog on our Daisy Chain directory. I’m glad you brought that heart here to POETIC BLOOMINGS
Linda, your ‘words from the heart’ philosophy is a garden mantra here. Love your site and looking forward to reading more from your heartbeat.
Looking forward to visiting you, Linda.
Walt, I love your offering. “Our hearts envision what our eyes refuse to see,
through the eyes of a poet’s heart” is absolutely who you are as a poet. Lovely!
That’s been my tag line for as long as Ive kept this blog. If it reflects my style and work, then I guess I’ve chosen wisely. Thanks Marie.
Hullo.
I came about because someone whose initials begin b.e. wanted an email that wasn’t full of spam, to connect to a prompt site. One she could give a quick once-over. And be.quik etc was available. voila voila
I knew a fella named Jack Be Quick. He was very nimble… jumped over candlesticks. But he didn’t reside at http://www.imprompt.wordpress.com
GROAN….
And yep, add my groooooan … 😉
And we’re off to a great groan!
HA! Well, THAT works! 😀
[…] There’s a poetry sharing site I used to frequent that has started up again. With weekly prompts, suggestions and a group of friendly folks. This week’s ponderin’s are “Whatchamacallit”. Pay them a visit. I promise, you will not be disappointed. https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/2018/08/12/prompt-210-whatchamacallit/ […]
Rusty Midnight Ramblin’s
By David De Jong
My mind tends to ramble in a strange sort of way
Unless they’re written down the thoughts never stay
They stir in the silence, in the field and on the trail
Times it be like fetchin water with a bottomless pale
Inclings slip out the seams and the sun dries em up
Until the midnight hour and the brain just won’t shut
What’s a man to do but write em all down
With a picture or a verse for a fittin’ crown
None can cypher like the Good Lord’s Book
Nor can they capture His creation’s look
But they tend to inspire an old rusty mind
Workin’ on its heart while rustlin’ words that might rhyme
I try my best with the gifts the Dear Lord gave
All in gratitude for His Son sent to save
So yes I be a ramblin’ as I carry on
To tell a cowpoke’s tale, findin’ hope in a song
And pray as someone reads em it brightens a day
Whether its mom in the kitchen or dad balin’ hay
So take a load off, grab a cup, just sit a spell
I mostly stay calm and heartenin’, and try not yell
Meet some folks from all over that will stop in to stay
And a few takin’ the time with some kind words to say
The door’s always open so come on in
Find a suitin’ spot and please, come again
https://rustymidnightramblins.wordpress.com/
Perfection, here. I’d love to grab a cup and sit a spell. In fact, I will do that first chance I get.
Seems you’ve gotten a little busier again. Good to see you writing more again as well.
Thank you David! I’m trying hard to get back into the swing of things again. It feels good. 🙂
This old cowpoke appreciates this piece, David. A campfire, perched on a log, a steaming cup of Java, and tall tales seems a perfect repose. Loving this perspective and your site. Walt.
Well saddle up – Thanks Walt!
A very suitin’ spot to sit and sip and visit David.
Howdy, Thanks so much for stopping by!
Good blog name for a ramblin’ midnight man!
Good blog name, for one with swirling thoughts.
Poetry Just for You by Darlene Franklin
Just poetry—nothing else needed
It captures your essence precisely
Nothing states it more succinctly
The lady compared to a summer’s day lives on
Just for you
A personal experience
You, your memories
Your uniqueness
By me
Because I know you or
Perhaps I want to know you better
I love to play with words with others
Because I must share
That vanilla ice cream cone
Or a sherbert-colored sunset
Or calling myself a bowling ball in God’s hands
What’s mine is yours
Some of it for a price
Not a blog, but my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Poetry-Just-For-You-by-Darlene-Franklin-731269013871753/
“Or calling myself a bowling ball in God’s hands”
How clever! 😀
Thanks! Here’s the bowling ball poem:
I am a bowling ball
Bright and shiny and red
Handled by the triune God
In the gutter, I stall
Worried at what lies ahead
Passing pins into nothingness
“I’m such a clutz,” I tell my God
“No, you’re not. Not at all.
“When bowled by Me, you need not dread.
“Let me move you.” “Okay.” I nod.
I hit the ninepin—strike! Success!
God works with precision
Strike, spare, or a seeming mess
Trust Him to make the right decisions.
Cute! When I was a kid, I joined a bowling team. They dubbed me “Gutter Ball Queen.” Oy … 😉
Oh, wow! I love this, and I almost missed it.
Superb, Darlene. The bowling analogy works well. Bowled in a league for years. Now it’s good to bring the family together; a Grand Plan!
Brilliant Darlene… Love the ‘bowling ball in God’s hands’ imagery.
Love that sherbet-colored sunset!
I’ve Forgotten More Than I’ve Forgotten Forgetting
I have been one acquainted with the blog.
I have begun some in fun—and quit in fun.
I have founded to fog–and pettifog.
I have set down the sorriest old pun.
I have bypassed the clear for the obscure
And done obscure to death. Done, dead, re-done.
I have slapped words on any armature
Left the house in dust while I tried out themes,
Colors and fonts, icons for the brochure.
But don’t tell me “We’re bursting at the seams;
you’ve had your fun. The rest is epilogue.
No new blog for titles, or plots, or memes”.
Whoa, now. I have more schemes left than fleas, Dawg.
I have been one acquainted with the blog.
(Apologies to R. Frost)
https://fredherring.wordpress.com/2018/08/12/for-the-poetic-bloomers/
oops. wrong link. would one of you fix it? Ought to be:
https://fredherring.wordpress.com/2018/08/12/for-the-poetic-bloomers/
All fixed!
OH MY WORD THAT TITLE!!!!!!!!
Okay, now I’ll go back to read the poem. 😀
Barbara, your brilliance and quirky humor entertain me to no end. Love this, lady!
My sentiments exactly. Always good for a chortle and guffaw! This woman pleases my sense of humor!
Barbara, ‘more schemes left than fleas’ is an itch this dawg feels too. Love it.
I have a crush on FredHerring.
Prompt 210 – My Blogs
From the intro to
http://outspokenpatriot.blogspot.com/ and http://walkntalknchristian.blogspot.com/
As a retired Air Force Master Sergeant, a long time Conservative, and a loving family man, I felt the need to open this blog with the intent of stirring the red, white, and blue blood in all true patriots. As a husband, father, son, brother, uncle, grandfather, and friend, I want to let my writings show my love for them and for America. I see the writing on America’s wall, and it’s not good. But, it’s also not over for this great land. If all true American patriots unite, we can save this Lady from destruction. So, with a prayer in my heart and the love of country in my head, I will write on. Be inspired. Unite. And help me save this nation.
A poem from http://outspokenpatriot.blogspot.com/
The Veteran
Often left out
Often overlooked
Sometimes forgotten
Sometimes reviled
Many times cheated
Often put down
Sometimes a nuisance
Swept off to the side
Always prepared
No matter the risk
Standing for freedom
Standing for truth
Ready to sacrifice
For the common good
For you and me
An hero unsung
Always defending
Upholding your rights
On the alert
For the enemy’s approach
Ready for action
Ready to defend
Ready for battle
Ready to die
The veteran waits
For the country to call
Duty and honor
And freedom at stake
Protecting us all
With no thought of self
The veteran acts
For God, country and you
A poem from http://walkntalknchristian.blogspot.com/
Where Hope Finds Me
Dredging in the doldrums of sorrow and pain
The past but a parade of badly made choices
Bad choices that got me exactly where I stood
At the lowest point in the valley of desperation
Drowning in the impossibility of resurrection
From my self-made prison of hopelessness
Then through the flood of self-pitied tears
As I stared down for fear of glimpsing doom
I saw a shadow stretching from behind me
But there was no sun for to cast this silhouette
Quickly I turned that I might see for myself
And I saw; and I fell to my knees in utter fear
For the shadow grew larger as it came for me
Close now, its red glowing eyes shone bright
Black and cold it pointed a bony finger my way
My frozen soul ached at the pull of pure evil
Through thought that this evil could be my relief
My escape from the despair of hopeless misery
My life flashed before me, the good and the bad
Then all thoughts stopped at one exact moment
The day I rejected the One they called Jesus
I’d pushed Him away and paved my own path
A path fraught with bad choices, pain and strife
Bad choices that got me exactly where I stood
That moment would not depart from my brain
Would this be the torture I’d carry for eternity
Reliving the instant I rejected His mercy
Just so I could do things the way I decided
Decisions that have turned my life upside down
Decisions that got me exactly where I stood
I didn’t need Him then, but I need Him so now
But, alas, I fear it must be too late to save me
I’m unworthy, filthy, corrupted and immoral
A heart of wickedness; an unsalvageable soul
Not a decent bone in this wasted walking corpse
I’m not even worthy of an eternity in Hell
I crumpled to the ground as regret flooded in
Why had I pushed away the hope of all mankind
If only I had one last chance to accept His grace
One chance to set my feet on the righteous path
Forgive me, Lord, for turning my back on You
That moment will be my torture forevermore
Then I felt a gentle hand, softly on my shoulder
I heard a voice so calming whisper in my ear
I looked up and I saw Jesus smiling down at me
He called me son as He took my hand in love
Tears of joy filled my eyes as He lifted me up
Hope had found me in the depths of my despair
Thanks for this challenge, Walt and Marie. This should give us all a chance to visit others sites and peruse their creations. Hopefully it will inspire us all to write more and post more in our blogs. I know I have had a hard time posting, because there is little or no feedback whatsoever, and that, in itself, is depressing. Maybe this challenge will be the start of a blog resurrection. Let’s hope so.
Earl, I had no Ida you had even one blog let alone two.
Me neither, Sheryl!
I have to apologize, Earl. Your post got hung up in “pending,” and I didn’t notice it until now.
I’m thankful for your service, and even more so for your love of Jesus. You and I don’t always see eye-to-eye politically, but we respect each other, and that is so important these days, you know?
Love the passion in your pieces, here.
You links to these blogs we’re on the Daisy Chain. I was curious whether they were still active. Now I know. These two pieces are exceptional and the scope of your writing speaks well for both blogs. Nicely done Earl!
Earl, I have always appreciated your passion. I agree too, blog posts are difficult to keep up without comment. I too hope this exercise inspires me to post more.
Here is my haibun as to the why of my blog:
The meaning of my Blog: Kanzen Sakura – Haibun
The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life. Katumoto, The Last Samurai
I was trying to figure out the perfect name for my new blog. I played with names both Japanese and English trying to meld the two together. I was watching the Last Samurai in the darkened theater. I was one of the few Caucasians in the theater – the majority were Asian. I understand the movie did not do well here in American but it was a big success in Japan. When Katumoto said his famous line about the perfect cherry blossom, It struck a chord in me. In the end when he died, looking at the cherry blossoms around him he said, “They all are…perfect”. I decided then that was the name of my blog – Kanzen Sakura – perfect cherry blossom or perfection.
The Japanese have several aesthetics in their culture which basically dictate how they live. I wanted to incorporate all of the aesthetics into my blog but it was a mish mash in the beginning. I think after six years I have finally found the way – poetry. The Samurai were trained in flower arranging, kendo, swordsmanship, and poetry. Their last act before they commit seppuku is to write a jisei, a death poem. I did not want to write a death poem but I wanted to write poetry, to arrange the words as I would flowers, to cut and sweep with my words as I would my katana. The aesthetics are: mono no aware (sadness at the passing of things), wabi (subdued rustice beauty), sabi (rustic patina or aged), yugen (mysterious grace) iki (mysterious grace), kire (cutting). I strive to this perfection.
cherry blossoms fall
to the ground – blown by the wind –
perfect pink snow
Oops. I placed my reply to you in the wrong place. I hope you find it, after Sheryl’s poem.
The hospice where my father spent his last days was called Sakura House. It was a peaceful place and the name was chosen by a group to reflect a place of quiet, and contemplation, and it was decorated beautifully. It was a place of good care too. Thank you for your words about poetry. I’d like to look there to see what you write.
Hospice caregivers are absolute angels. What a lovely name for the house.
Welcome to the garden, Toni. I know your affinity for the Japanese culture and the origins of your blog from our past associations. There is much beauty in the language and customs of Japan. Your blossoms fit in well here in this fertile place of thought and poetry. Your Haibun are always special to read and absorb. For that I say thanks.
PS I love The Last Samurai, am pleasantly surprised to find the Japanese like it, which must mean it is true to what it is portraying, and I’m also surprised that Americans are not so keen on it. Just a beautiful, beautiful movie, I thought.
Hmm, that PS ended up before the original comment! Wonder if this will too.
Lovely to read about the naming of your blog, beautifully expressed as always. You have created there a very special atmosphere whuch I like to bask in from time to time.
Beautiful source of your blog name and reflection of your writing passion.
Oh good, you are here! Lovely way to arrive at the name of your blog.
Thank you!
Sheryl’s Sporadic Word Tag
Hiding in its URL
is Sheryl’s Sporadic Spurtings.
Alliteration said it well.
Sporadic, yes, but spurtings?
Spurtings contain but little thought;
they come and go at will.
Her poetic words will not be caught
but on her pages spill.
Sporadic word tag is her game
as she pursues her meaning.
Creativity is her aim
as from ideas she’s gleaning.
On these pages you will find
poems both good and bad.
Some of them may make you laugh.
Others will seem too sad.
Sheryl Kay Oder
Clever! Of course you HAVE to be clever for something like sporadic word tag, I would guess.
https://sherylssporadicspurtings.wordpress.com/
Even thrown-together poems (or maybe especially those) invite change. I have changed a word in the first line of the second stanza:
Spurtings require but little thought (contain changed to require)
Could Elf Walt change contain to require in the first line of the second stanza?
Entertaining! Thank you.
Thank you, storygal. I need to check out your poems, too.
Sheryl, I always enjoy your poems. Be they humor based or message laden, they appeal to my sense of poetic appreciation. And I never consider a poem “bad”. They express every mood and inspiration. We may not like everything we write, but it will surely touch someone in some way. Glad to have your words with us!
Thank you, Walt. Of course I consider some more blah than bad. However, I cannot consider “To some of them you will say, “Nah.” ;-). I’ll keep bad, then.
Sheryl, quite an honest blog I’d say. Transparency with the quick sporadic willingness to write it all, good bad and ugly, is a quality I admire and aspire to have.
Spores are how those beautiful ferns appear on wooded trails.
“They come and go at will.” Perfect for a poetry site, Sheryl.
I’m so glad Walt prompted us to share our blogs and the meaning behind them, if for nothing but this. This is amazing. I had no idea what Kanzen Sakura meant. And I’m embarrassed that I have never heard the quote, “The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life.” How lovely, with depth of meaning. “In the end when he died, looking at the cherry blossoms around him he said, “They all are…perfect.” Wow. Just, wow.
Beautifully penned Haibun, and I especially love the ending haiku. I feel like I just got to know you better, Toni. And I’m better for it.
Standing in Christ’s love, I’m not afraid
Of wrath that I have earned for what I’ve done,
Shame’s burden bore to the cross by the Son.
Though sin beset me, his love was not swayed.
Standing in His love, I am unafraid
Of death and sin, for His grace far outweighs.
Though sin once owned me, His love overruns.
Now simply in His love I am arrayed.
Standing in His love, I am not afraid
of the Perfect One who from death was raised.
Both hell and heartache Christ has helped me brave,
healed broken places, raised me from the grave.
So, I write my weakness and my story,
praying many see His strength and glory.
Standing In Christ’s Love
https://standinginhislove.blogspot.com/
SHELLY! Okay, now I’m in tears. Everyone, this is my sweet/dear friend, who inspires me every single day. Every. Single. Day. And has an amazing, God-given writing talent that leaves me breathless. I’m so happy to see you out here, sweet sister! And so glad you are writing poetry now as well! WELCOME!
This piece touches me greatly, and is beautifully penned. So much grace. So much Christ. So much truth. Standing with you. ❤
I don’t see an option to “follow” your blog. Perhaps you want it that way, and that is absolutely fine. I’d love to be able to sign up though, and get notifications when you post something new. No pressure, Shelly. ❤
Marie, I have no idea how to allow people to follow my blog. I shut it off at one point, but now can’t figure out how to turn it back on. So, maybe if someone out here in cyber world can help me?
And thanks for welcoming me. Poetry is a challenge for me, but I am trying to stretch outside of my comfort zone occasionally. 🙂
I see it now! There are few dots in the upper left corner of your site. There is a spot there to add an e-mail address to sign up to get e-mail notifications whenever you add a new post. I just signed up. YAY!
And may I just say that everything you write has a poetic feel to it. You are a natural.
Shelley, thank you for sharing this with us. As Marie states above, you are a natural. Poetry is cathartic and healing. Many of us have come to poetry to find those havens and ease our strife. You are welcome here and you will find us a supportive and encouraging bunch. Marie speaks of your friendship and that is a precious commodity. We tease each other that Marie and I are “ best friend who’ve never met.” I sense you’ve fared a bit better than I have. I look forward to your continued participation here.
Walt, thanks for your kind welcome and words of encouragement. Pouring words onto the page is a vise that has kept me sane and sober many a day. Poetry, however, is harder and I am certainly unrefined in my skills – a work in progress. You are right: Marie and I are face to face friends. I know none more loving, faithful and grace-filled than she. I expect that “best friends who’ve never met” have similar hearts. So, I am pleased to “meet” you here.
*blushblush* Thank you, sweet friend. I love you so much. ❤
Michelle, so glad to meet you here. How precious is the love of God, that we can stand amazed in it in His saving Son. Love your poem, and like Walt has discovered and Marie attests, you have a natural flow with words.
Damon, pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement. Yes! The love of God shown to me through His Son is more than my heart can hold. I knocked on the door of your blog and was welcomed by your response to this prompt. What a delight! Your words led my heart to know without my eyes seeing the beauty of your SevenAcreSky – such is what faith is made of.
Enthusiastic Soul
If you meet me face to face,
You may have to guess at what I’d say,
For I usually keep things to myself.
You may think me down or bored,
Not excited for the Lord,
A wall flower or some object on a shelf.
But deep inside, I’m grinning
And the wheels above are spinning,
And my soul whirls about in glee.
Because I am not alone
I am part of the Lord’s home;
His Spirit resides right inside of me.
Jesus died and made me whole.
I have an enthusiastic soul,
No longer bound by sin, but free.
Someday it might leak out
And I’ll actually give a shout,
Till then, it shows up in poetry.
It sure does show up in your poetry, Connie! 🙂
Connie, this is wonderful! I can identify with it, too.
Indeed it does, Connie. And always so well expressed; truly an enthusiastic soul.
Faith is shown in shouts and whispers, laughter, smiles, and even grunts and tears. LIke water over solid ocean floors, our hearts respond in varying waves to the truth we know, and the winds that move us.
Your poem explains it well, Connie.
Rhymes With Bug
http://rhymeswithbug.com
Don’t know what I was thinking
Sure that I wasn’t drinking
Under pressure to choose
Name this blog I would use
To deposit some words
About moonlight and birds
Some words funny, some sad
From a prompt or from PAD
Does this name rhyme with bug
Could be mug, snug, or hug
Truth be told – I don’t know
Do like the bugs though
That live in my garden
So I must beg your pardon
For causing confusion
Not providing conclusion
Leaving you with a shrug
Or, might I be the bug?
HA! So cute, “lady!” *winkwink*
😊
Candy, I took the time to enjoy your poetry through March. All of them are delightful. None of them bugged me, though.
I do wish there were a place to like or comment on your poems.
I notice we follow a couple of the same people not on poetry sites. 😀
Happy you continue to bring your poetic “ bugs” to our garden, Candy. Always refreshing and well written, they never “bug” me! Rhymes with glee!
This poem deserves a hug! Fun stuff Candy!
Love the name of your blog, Candy.
Poem for a Sunday Evening
Dinner’s in the oven
table’s set for two
but the potter’s in her workshop
turning and tuning the wheel
spinning and spinning
‘til the words are tight
tumbling and turning
til they sit just right
Enjoy the potter’s feast
and don’t let the dinner burn
Here’s my poetry blog where I post poems when I can
http://poetpotter.blogspot.com/
“spinning and spinning
‘til the words are tight
tumbling and turning
til they sit just right”
Creatively expressed, Storygal. And “Enjoy the potter’s feast and don’t let the dinner burn” as well. Well done! (No pun intended? 😉 )
Is there a way to follow your blog? If so, I’m missing it.
I’ll see that I can do about the follow button. Thank you, Marie Elena.
Oh, I’m finding another favorite in the garden. Those will tell you I am. Sucker for rhyme and this one has it in spades. And so well placed, Carolyn. Will check your site and add you to our Daisy Chain.
Beautiful expression Storygal, and maybe it felt so because I have Always wanted to explore pottery craft. I never realized how kin it is to poetry tho…
A potter! Sounds like fun.
Remember this one Pard?
ACROSS THE LAKE, EERILY: A Hand of Friendship
On opposite shores
of a stretch of lake,
an Erie divide where
the lake effects hide.
From Maumee, Ohio,
her dark eyes search eastward
for the sound of mused
verses and rhymes.
And from Sloan, New York,
his search emanates,
a westward insemination
of idyllic thought,
ever wrought on the
strength of connection,
poetic perfection
an elusive prize,
but lost in the eyes
of beholders both varied,
the beauty that rests there
is prompted and harried.
The wonder he sees
in the heartfelt struggle
of a mother and wife,
rapt in poetic nuance and affluence.
And she awed and mystified
by a heart mired
in romantic remembrance
and comedic absurdity
written by a hand
as new to the fight
as her own nudged
poetry proclaims.
Two names, as far
as they can see
Walt and Marie,
plotting along
to bring the other
to their next best verse.
A joining of spirits by
two veritable strangers,
posing no danger
to the comfort their
sole influences provide.
The stretch of an extended
hand of friendship across
the waters of this Great Lake
returned in the guise
of a poetic handshake
and touching each others
muse unmistakably.
Past poems from the “Partners in Rhyme” reside at http://www.aleerily.wordpress.com
So nice, and so beautifully written. Warm smiles across the lake…
Yes, just a perfect lyrical description of a miraculous connection if you ask me.
A lovely tribute from the heart.
Enheduanna’s Daughter
The first author in recorded history,
what she wrote was poetry.
She was High Priestess to the Goddess Inanna
and also to the Moon Goddess, Nanna.
She was an activist and social reformer.
Of course I am – with others – her daughter!
Thought to have been an Akkadian princess,
I see her as the Diana of her age, no less.
On the votive disc we distinguish her
by her frills, her circlet, her braided hair.
The men are plainly dressed and bald.
But all are priests, all walking tall.
A king’s daughter, with Privilege in her dress,
she chose a life of constant service.
In my own small way, I too hope to serve.
May my ephemeral verses add to Love –
which keeps the world going round, it’s said –
and in some way, by being, to honour those dead
who came before: each determined ancestor
from whom I claim the name of daughter.
Down through countless generations,
through many lost and scattered nations,
women have fallen, women have risen,
but we know to use the gifts we are given.
Enheduanna of the unknown face,
warrior and healer, you carved your space
in a world of challenge and diversity,
as we now make our place. So shall it be.
12-13/8/18
To see the votive disc referred to, at my blog: https://enheduannasdaughter.blogspot.com/ and click on the bars top left.
Oops, can’t see a way to delete and start again. Just moved 6th verse ‘Thought to be…’ to become second verse.
Er, make that 4th verse.
To make it clear, 6th verse in poem becomes 4th.
I think I got it, Rosemary. Confirm that was the change you wanted.
Oh, great, yes you did. I didn’t expect you would go in and fix it. Thanks so much!
Poet by day. Elf by night, Rosemary. 😉
I’ve never heard of Enheduanna, to be truthful. The ” … earliest known poet whose name has been recorded.” Wow!
Rosemary, New to me too… Thanks for this lively hint of history! (research gene kicks into gear)
I only know this name from you. Thought of her make me sense her power.
And my second poetry blog:
Stones for the River
‘Small stones’ are observations,
pieces of mindful writing –
looking outside oneself
for the beautiful, interesting or strange,
as if on a walk you found a stone,
brought it home and polished it.
Satya Robyn called them that
in 2010 when she invented them
and invited the world to play along
every day for a month. The world did,
creating a river of stones. Some of us
continue. Mine are verse; it’s what I do.
13/8/18
https://stonesforriver.blogspot.com/
I’d forgotten all about the river of small stones. I love this concept, and enjoy this poem. Going to check out your site. Thank you for sharing!
Your poetry is lovely Rosemary. Love your site and especially Dragonfly in the Window. Will be following your craft.
I had forgotten all about the river of stones. So lovely.
And then there’s this one:
The Passionate Crone
Once upon a time, when MySpace
was the best place in the world
for meeting other poets, devouring
each other’s luscious words,
Rob Chrysler (he’s dead now)
posted as a joke an ad for auditions
of potential porn stars for a movie.
We poets responded with wicked
written auditions, all hilarious.
I signed mine ‘The Passionate Crone’
(being well past tender years).
It caused universal delight.
Some of them called me that
for a long time after … until
MySpace died (killed off) and most
migrated to facebook, which has its uses
but isn’t the same. (Did, er, Someone
pay the assassins, I wonder now.)
I made me another poetry blog
out in the wide-world blogosphere,
calling it, of course, The Passionate Crone.
Recently it developed a mind of its own,
became intractable. Nothing fixed it.
Was it just getting old and creaky? Am I?
Might it be a sign from the Universe? (I know
I’m too old to flaunt it, but can’t I even joke?)
It’s now an archive. All things end.
My new blog is much more dignified.
13/8/18
I think I’ll spare you the names of my several non-poetry blogs!
Wow! That’s a full compliment of poetic places to maintain, Rosemary. Each with its own direction and purpose. And so diverse! In writing with you in the past, I know the heart and dedication that you bring to your words. Again expressed so well here. I’m glad the passion won out over the pain tonight.
New medication is helping!
HA! This gave me a grin this morning. Thanks Rosemary!
I love the picture on The Passionate Crone.
I AM SANTA CLAUS
I’m a fly-by-night
working right up to the last minute,
rewarding the nice
(I’ve checked the list twice).
The Mrs. is near with kisses and cocoa.
She knows I’ll be out all night,
and she’s alright with it.
I speak to the fauna,
no lawn ornaments they,
they understand this man in red flannel.
I channel all the greats
and late greats who have held
this position steeped in tradition.
For as long as I’ve been living,
I find my joy in the giving, The way
they hear it, the spirit fills me,
it thrills me to the core,
and what’s more good golly,
it keeps me quite jolly.
The little folk work greatly
and lately I’ve been seeing
that their steps are lighter,
their smiles, brighter,
their bond is tighter
than I’ve seen in years.
Their cheer is contagious
and their creations are
outrageous! None better!
My charges chomp at the bit
and it is because of them
I make it in one night.
I keep the reason for the season
in sight, and when the flakes of white
descend, I tend to get anxious
myself. Me, a jolly old elf,
taking a deep breath, a pause,
counting the days. I am Santa Claus.
https://iamsantaclaus.wordpress.com
If there is anything that comes “this close” to Walt’s poems of romance, it’s the poetry of Santa, himself!
My blog is called “echoes from the silence” – and the blog address on WordPress is “when words escape”. Not long after I started my blog, I penned this poem (January 2011)…to fit both of those titles…
for years
thoughts have gone unspoken —
my voice, unheard;
i have longed to put words together —
to speak, unhindered;
yet
when words escape me
i am left in silence.
by writing,
my thoughts find words
and when words escape me
they are found in
echoes from the silence.
My blog (and this poem) can be found here: https://whenwordsescape.wordpress.com/about/
Always a favorite place to visit. With the resurgence of the garden, a new concerted effort will find it anew, Paula. When your words escape, I find the beauty that is unleashed. Glad to rediscover this poem and happy you joined us. And the poem above yours seems to be missing something. 😉 Don’t you think?
YES. I remember this poem, Paula. Did we feature it in my interview with you, perhaps? Love it. Love your poetic soul!
Paula, this is lovely, lilting, and so identifiable by many poets. Getting it into written form creates that sweet space between the saying of it and the hearing of it again.
Great to see you here, Paula! I have always enjoyed your poetry.
A bit of fluff brought on a wind
now dropped to earth and tucking in
will one day root and bloom and seed
unless you recognize a weed…
Let’s see if I get in here this time. If so, Hello Bloomers!
JANE!!! Hello back! What a creative hello! 😀 MAN so good to see you here! Glad you figured it out!
Hello dear Jane, and what a lovely entry!! You are a favorite and much loved weed, as you well know. So glad to see you here.
Color Me Blogless
Ain’t got no website, got no blog.
My mind ain’t clear; I’m in a fog.
Were I a hut, I’m missing boards.
When questioned, I ain’t got no words.
I got some dreams and hold ’em fast.
I try to make each moment last,
even the worstest ones that come.
I want feelings to feel at home.
I reckon I don’t advertise
’cause I’d mostly apologize
for lines that stretch and rhymes that break.
I’ll forego blogging, for poets’ sake.
Jane? Is that really you? Glad to finally see your words in the garden. Bloodless? Geez, she should rectify that. Lol. Happy the gang is coming together. Who needs a blog with a muse like yours?
Blog less, if my vampire auto-correct would leave my words alone!
Jane, blog or blogless, it is a joy to see this poem of yours.
HA! Love it. But, you should get a blog, Lady Jane. 😉
Hey… “Blogs” are where you plant them. And if your boards and dreams and feels and lines and broken rhymes are scattered here and there, at least I’m happy that some of them fall here.
Nice to see you here, Jane!
[…] https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/2018/08/12/prompt-210-whatchamacallit/ […]
Purple Pens A Poem
Started my blog in Portland
Now I am back in New York
Everlasting love of purple
seeded this blog’s garden
Writing with a purple pen,
when a lightbulb lit up
in my head. Combine above
and there you have it – a name.
Sharing poems is vital
as is the need for hugs,
even if your have no title
nor great love of bugs.
https://purplepeninportland.com
HI SARA! *wavewavewave* So good to see you here! Luv me sum purple! 😀
Had a lot of trouble finding this prompt?
Trouble? Wha’ happened? But, here you are replanted in New York and in the garden. With your purple pen. And your marvelous words in poetic form. My second favorite co-host. I know you understand! 🙂 Love your purple place!
😀
Goofball. 😉
Of course! Thanks, Walt.
[…] Poetic Bloomings Prompt #210: WHATCHAMACALLIT […]
[…] timely event has assisted my refocus. The most satisfying writing venue I’ve been a part of, Poetic Bloomings hosted by Marie Elena Good and Walt Wojtanik, has re-emerged after a long rest. The garden gate has […]
Walt & Marie, so glad to see you guys back together! Your poems of blog descriptions are perfect for your sites. Painting words is exactly what you do, Marie.
Thanks Sara! We tend to reflect the brilliance that surrounds us. So keep on shining so our fire never fizzles. Walt.
I will do my best.
Thank you, Sara! And I agree with Walt. So glad you are back!
😊
So Great to see all these familiar folks again. Feels like coming home.
It certainly does, David.
Warm smiles …
Here’s a link to my blog page, SevenAcreSky. I have had quite a Hiatus in the past year concerning my writing. My few followers might not have missed me.
But as you will see if you follow the link I have been encouraged by the garden opening here again.
http://sevenacresky.wordpress.com
In a SevenAcreSky
Pines and oaks
surround the pasture,
fingering a line that meets the sky,
a line that cloaks horizons,
a jagged line of limits for
the wondering mind and eyes.
My mind and eyes imagine
what my heart can only know,
since eyes and minds prefer the facts,
but hearts can freely go
where words can take them–
and then with them
thru the open sky
beyond a fence,
past now to hence,
my wandering mind,
my wondering eye,
follow my heart
into a wide blue
seven acre sky.
(c) 2018, Damon Dean
A seven acre sky is hardly enough to hold the muse you use. We’re lucky to have you all here!
I’m lucky, and grateful, to be here in a fuller capacity than recently possible.
Oh goodness, Walt, I couldn’t agree more. You and I are lucky and blessed, aren’t we? Hugely blessed. Damon, it’s such an honor to count you among us.
Love this poem, Damon.
Thank you.
Damon, I read of your fence as I look at my own across the way. So glad to see you and other old friends scribbling here. I’ve started a few blogs but ultimately felt no one needs too much of my opinions on any given day. It’s like someone saying, “Say something in Chinese!” Suddenly, I can’t remember a thing. I’ll be a weed here for as long as I’m allowed.
Weeds especially welcome, Jane. As is my crabgrass! Walt.
*teeheehee* I love you, Jane. 😀
Love you too, Chickadee.
[…] Marie Elena and Walt are posting prompts every Sunday. Here’s the latest one. […]
…and lest we forget…
POETIC BLOOMINGS
Attracted by lingering memories,
or drawn by a heart felt compassion,
we come together to fashion our thoughts
into some semblance of conformity.
The enormity of that which we wish to convey
touches the hearts and souls of other such
thinkers planting their seeds to flourish;
in poetic bloom we are nourished.
One to another we join; all invited and welcomed.
A home for such ideas in the garden of thought,
where we ought take root and grow
in words of wisdom and echoes of heart.
It all starts with a seed, we indeed will bloom!
❤ !
!! yes.
Another Porch (because the world can never have too many porches)
Porches are for sitting
For sipping cups of tea
For reflection or knitting
Or reading poetry
Porches are a haven
Of blessed quietness
A place of relaxation
And home-sweet-happiness
Porches are for pausing
To ponder simple things
To put aside our fussing
And feel like common kings
A place to get together
To watch the shadows fall
To share in friendly chatter
Or say nothing at all
To cherish words like ‘we’, love
To share laughter and tears
And marvel at the ease of
Days soon turned into years
Porches are for flowers
For songsters with guitars
For watching summer showers
Or cartwheel clowns or cars
Porches are a picture
Of the sweet by and by
When we all get together
In God’s front porch in the sky
© Janet Martin
The purpose of my blog-porch; a place to relax and be poetically
and/or pho-etically refreshed…
http://anotherporch.blogspot.com/
Lovely and inviting, indeed!
And “pho-etically” … love that! 😀
thank-you!
Always appreciate the reference to the porch. It is as much a gathering place of comfort as are your wealth of worded wonder that you bring to the garden. Well done, Janet! Walt.
thank-you Walt. Can’t wait to return to this prompt and follow the trails/links to others blogs planted here! A great prompt! My brimming for-real garden will slow in another month!
Hey, there, lovely community! I know I’ve been lost for ages, and I’m probably going to be lost for more ages :-D, but here am I with the “why” behind my blog’s name: Sweet and Bitter Stuff of Wonder.
http://phoenix-em.com/mariyakoleva/whatchamacallit/
Love, MK
Mariya, how lovely to see you here! And such a beautifully haunting poem of the “why” behind your blog name. Thank you so much for sharing it with us! We certainly miss your voice, and hope you can join in more often.
HUGS!
Marie Elena