Well, we’ve reached the end of April Poetry Month. I hope whichever poetry challenge you participated in gave you a good slate of poems to polish up and present. Maybe you just got the satisfaction of actually writing a poem a day for the month. Either way, Congratulations.

Also ending was our extensive look at Motivation. I hope you found a few of these indicators useful from which to draw inspiration. Be inspired!

But today is Cinco de Mayo. May 5th.  The day after “Star Wars” Day (May the Fourth Be With You). Your charge is simple.

Choose one of try them all:

Write a “May” poem.

It could be about the month of May, or about seeking permission for something.

Write a “Five” poem.

Using the number five as your nudge, write that poem.

Write a “Star Wars” poem.

Now I don’t necessarily mean the books or movies. We’re thinking more in terms of “space.” Or of something “long ago” or “far, far away.” You could even think of the past (or future) of something.

Now, I know that seems like a lot on the table, but you challenge yourselves in wonderful ways. We can do this. Most of all, write something.




In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me,
and I remembered
Michigan’s night sky,
when you and I stood
beneath not hundreds
but billions
or trillions
and I wished
I could take them home.

In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me.
Today, not even one.
Not even the sun.

But now?
Now, I know
they are here –

and trillions
and even the sun,
and even when I see
not even one.

And I see no need
to take them home,

for now I see
they are my home.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019




Clouds, dark and ominous,
a predominance of wind and a chill,
not enough to kill the plants
but enough to make them dance
in the whip up of weather.
A silence falls; precursor
to a storm approaching,
encroaching on a good day
with the threat so offered.
A mist begins, begetting a shower;
a sudden downpour ensues
while you rush to the car
with keys in hand and a hope to reach
the power windows before
giving the seats a good soaking.
Tough luck. It’s a shame
you don’t move as quickly
as you used to. Rain wins the race.
At this pace, you’re gonna get soaked.

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2019

139 thoughts on “PROMPT #246 – THE FORCE OF CINCO DE MAYO

  1. Marie, your poem is lovely and thoughtful. Sometimes, our grasp exceeds our good sense, but you have yours well in hand.

    Walt… “Rain wins the race” I love your sense of humor even as I acknowledge the truth of “it’s a shame you don’t move as quickly as you used to.” Oh, well, at least I’m still moving.


    If you sip from a fifth on the Fourth
    and should happen to face to the north,
    the aurora borealis
    might seem like a palace
    arising like plinths from the swarth,

    for unlike the high rockets’ red glare,
    the sky show just keeps swimming right there;
    this incongruous sight
    could induce a great fright
    and you might try to dance in the air.

    On the Fourth, then, dispense with the fifth
    and resolve to stay sober forthwith
    or at least for a day,
    for you know, come what may,
    you can always take sips on the Fifth.

  3. Walt, I know how this is; the same weather is happening here.

    By the way, once again I am experiencing the phenomenon of the site sometimes failing to show my posting, usually in the comments. This is a sporadic thing, but annoying.

    • I looked again at this a bit ago, when I saw your comment come in. I’m sorry it is annoying. I really can’t figure it out. Do you consistently post from the same computer or phone? I don’t ever catch you in our spam net, nor pending or trash files. I just can’t figure it out.

      • It’s not a major problem, given that the comments do get recorded. I like to see them at the time I posr, however, in case I goofed or want to add something. I always use the same computer, never a phone. The problem isn’t consistent, either: sometimes I see my comments immediately; other times, I don’t.

    • Thanks, Bill. The fact that your comments do post sporadically puzzles me. Either they post or they won’t. It could be you’re a temperamental artist. I know quite a few! 😉

  4. I’m glad today’s prompt allows me to display this poem, which I’ve worked on for two days (looking for C words that rhymed)

    So, here’s my attempt at a Beymorlin sonnet about tornados:

    The prairie winds won’t stay within a cage
    Air pressure crashes as they cumulate
    Winds swirl and squall and directions change
    Overcast, air begins to circulate
    The once calm skies are thrown a vicious curve
    When lightning crackles to the thunder’s clap
    Fire splits the air ahead, beyond the curve
    The cradle’s here, now fasten down the clamp
    It stays fast in spite of winds at full charge
    What clatter, what clamor, will it not cease?
    The wind’s a snake no manmade tool can charm
    Till In our chamber, we hear the all-clear
    So pull the curtain back, the skies been cleaned.
    No challenge where the new clouds look like cream

  5. Five treasures laid in heaven
    neither by my choice nor by my hand
    Precious pearls in faith’s storehouse
    so much more than grains of sand
    Five souls soar secure, untarnished, undefiled
    safe in my Savior’s land
    Five hearts never know sin guilt
    or pain of growing earthly old
    Five pairs of feet skip and run free
    on streets laid with finest gold
    Five babes my arms empty ache to hold
    rest safely Home in Heaven’s hand.

  6. It’s clerihew time in the garden….

    Marie Elena and Walt,
    a trans-lake gestalt,
    till their garden from May to May,
    while permitting poets their say.

  7. And Stars Do Not Start Wars

    They shine in our night sky
    Until they can shine no more
    Respecting each other’s space
    Just being themselves
    While here, below, we write
    Poems and loves songs
    About them – we give them
    Names and stories and lives
    They never asked for
    Still they shine in our darkness
    And stars do not start wars

  8. Nudging May

    May I say, May, you are
    quite a disappointment
    so far. While I think
    of Cinco De Mayo,
    mojitos, ribbons around
    a maypole, and a garden
    filled with Spring buds,
    you are off conspiring
    with Fall, refusing
    to step into the light,
    stop your showers,
    boost your temperature.
    Was it something I said?

  9. Just a short one reflecting on Blackthorn going over, replaced in turn by the flowering May or Hawthorn – the only tree named after the month. Here in the UK swift arrive in May from their long flight from Africa – they’ll be gone again by the end of July

    swift scream
    as winter blackthorn
    passes into May

      • Thank you. Sorry I got the day wrong when I posted this. We’ve been having an extended ‘Blackthorn Winter’ here which in part prompted me to write it.

        • Whatever the reason, Clive, we’re happy to host your efforts. We are a supportive and dedicated (albeit small) group in the place we call “the best garden for verse!” We’re are working to rectify the “small” label. Your presence boosts our number by one. Appreciate your piece above and the explanation. Good to have you.

    • Forgive me that I don’t recognize your name. Is this your first visit to Poetic Bloomings? Very nice to meet you! Your poem makes me smile. I am a lover of short poems. Welcome to our “garden,” sir!

      • Yes once seen and heard – never forgotten

        “Once it was a day of joy. The fifth of May. A day when even the greyest shades of early summer would be set ablaze by squadrons of yikkering, darting arrows, now screeching recklessly round the rooftops, now twinkling high over the city streets. The day of the sky dolphins.”

        Fri 5 May 2017 06.48 EDT writing in the Guardian Newspaper – Andrew Mayers

        It is uncanny but, like Andrew, for many many years, without fail, Swift always returned to my home town – on May 5th!

  10. Late to the party. But I sure am glad to see so many entries and comments. During the April PAD I got kind of worried that we might be losing ground. Thanks for reversing my thinking.

    The Forces

    Like soft invisible whispers
    Audible only to the soul
    The forces work on the heart
    Fighting for full control

    The forces are polar opposites
    They pull to the left and the right
    Spreading confusion within us
    No punches pulled in this fight

    Without any spiritual guidance
    The forces cause internal strife
    We question our every intention
    We question our purpose in life

    But then there’s the force inside us
    The one God gave from the start
    It points to the way we should go
    The way that is best for the heart

    Still the forces work on our soul
    Doing whatever to gain control
    Without pause the battles rage on
    Which victor will sit on your throne?

    © 2019 Earl Parsons

    • I’m glad myself, Earl. ‘Twas my fear deciding to continue here through the challenge. Fortunately, it said we were “open for business” and folks didn’t forget about us! We’ll continue the POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM on Wednesdays and the INFORM POET on Fridays per usual.

      Thanks for your always stellar contributions to our success, Earl!

    • Excellent, Earl.

      I am seeing a theme in the lives of those I am close to. This poem expresses it well.

      “But then there’s the force inside us
      The one God gave from the start
      It points to the way we should go
      The way that is best for the heart”


  11. Late to the party, but this poem for the Poetic Aside’s prompt about weapons definitely ties into Star Wars. (I got the first line from someone somewhere. If it’s one of you, please let me know so I can acknowledge you!)

    Lights sabers don’t kill people, Dark Sith lords do
    Light energy swords kill as well as blasters
    Hands or rock, it didn’t matter what Cain used
    Seas crashed over chariots and warriors
    David’s sling shot brought down Goliath and his crew
    And Gandhi’s fasts brought India’s freedom swifter
    Courage, hope and faith can serve as weapons too
    No government can control their raw power

  12. These are delightful. Marie, you transported me, and others I am sure, from a place in time to a destination in the heavens.
    Walt, the realism you coneyed of the sudden urgency raised a panic in me wondering if I left my windows down.

  13. Really late to the party…but trying to get back into a regular habit of writing. April was a good kick start, though I didn’t make it every day…


    She Marched in
    like a lion, out
    like a lamb…
    her April
    showers now bring May flowers.
    Summer’s closing in.

  14. Pingback: Spring’s Passage | echoes from the silence

  15. A Magnitude of Five

    I shine, outshine you all
    in all the thrall of heaven sparkled with your measly glimmers.

    I am the star, the ball
    of fire so fierce with flares that gaseate the elements of space.

    I flash and fume, and call
    the planets circling round my orb mere pebbles in the void.

    My light and heat no pall
    of heaven’s dark black veil can ever make obscure.

    They say I’ll one day fall
    collapse into my self, surrender to the emptiness of none.

    They lie.

    © Damon Dean, 2019

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