POETIC BLOOMINGS, a site established in May 2011 and which reunites Marie Elena Good and Walter J Wojtanik to help nurture and inspire the poetic spirit.


You’ve all heard the old children’s rhyme, “April showers bring May Flowers.” And around these parts (Western New York) we’ve had our saturation of rain through April and extending into the merry month of May. So, logic says we should be abounding with flowers. I’ve spotted a few sprouts, but not much about which to write home. We’ll change that!

Here in the “Best Garden For Poetry” we began with a simple seed. We’ve continued to nurture and see the progression from that simple zygote to a full bloom. So we will further explore this phenomenon. So, write a “flower” poem. It could be a particular flower, a favored bloom. It could be a flowering of a sort, not necessarily plant related. Make the flower your title and water and nurture your poem with your vision in words. In my case, I’ll spread a little manure to get things growing! So, go forth and blossom!




At the age of seven, Sophie built a hand bouquet for me, a few items at a time. When it was complete, I told her how beautiful it was. The short conversation that ensued may not exactly be a poem, but it is sheer poetry to me, and will reside in my heart forever:

It’s complete? It’s beautiful, Sophie. Thank you!

         It’s your personality, Nonna.

This bouquet is my personality? What do you mean? What would you say is my personality?

        Eternal happiness and love for everyone.

Oh, Sophie … that is so sweet. Thank you! And what would you say is YOUR personality?

        I’m love, too. And care for everyone, everywhere.

Light emanating
from an unsullied child’s heart
sparks a better us.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019



Where have all the flowers gone?
Trampled under foot; dying
slowly the fragrance lingers.
Beauty of blooms past.
** A Dodoitsu 
© Walter J Wojtanik, 2019 



She will spread her cheer every year.

She will be alive with joy and a heavenly dimpled smile.

Another of the sun-shines of my life, soon to be,

the sunflower of same. Her name will be Brooklyn,

and her bloom will brighten every garden she sees fit to visit.

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2019

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126 thoughts on “PROMPT #248 – THE RESULT OF APRIL SHOWERS

  1. Marie…what a beautiful exchange! Walt…love the expectation of the last poem.
    Here’s mine—


    Somewhere, just after we give up
    anticipation of things hoped for
    and begin to allow acceptance
    to fill the space left
    by dreams unlived,
    Serendipitous moments
    bring new realities,
    like a bed of Purple Roses
    bathed in the Light of a
    Blue Moon at midday.

    These moments seem too fantastic…
    consciousness often explains away
    the joy and wonder, so
    we step aside and let the
    moment pass, wondering
    why our hearts are breaking.

    Hold hands with Serendipity
    learn to hear her whispered plans…

  2. Daniel Paicopulos on said:

    Sunshine, Flowers. Kindness, Humanity 

    When the world wears
    on me, politics chafe,
    there’s always our flowers.

    Grateful when winter gardens
    refuse me flowers,
    I have her to see.

    Still snow on the peaks,
    spring thirsts for its melting.
    The windows need cleaning.

    The Navels are eaten,
    Valencia’s not yet ripe.
    What of the apples?

    Red flowers open,
    pomegranates in waiting.
    We must make sun tea.

    Pink roses whisper,
    Bougainvillas scream color.
    Pastels still enchant.

    Spring’s flowers soon fade.
    Summer blooms remain hidden.
    Seedlings need water.

    Epi’s bloom briefly,
    cactus flowers much the same.
    I must call my Friends

    • Oh, what you bring to our garden. ❤ Good to see you here again, my friend.

      Each of these stands on its own, while they all sing a lovely tune together. Beautiful!

    • A master planter of words, thoughts and ideas. Good to read you as always, Daniel.

    • I love the colors of flower personalities in this, Daniel.

    • William Preston on said:

      Wonderful, and, for me, the last word calls to mind Quakers, who, at least among those I’ve known, are very like flowers.

    • When I drive through the countryside here in the spring and the ditches and fields are covered in flowers, and trees have blooms…I always say I wish I could take it all in in one photo. But that one photo doesn’t ever capture all the places my eyes have darted and the thoughts & feelings inside as my gaze lands on each of the various blooms. Your poem does that. Well done.

    • Daniel, pure mastery. What a bouquet of joy you’ve presented.

  3. Lilacs

    In Colorado, out my front door,
    purple lilacs take me back
    to my Pennsylvania childhood
    where huge bushes graced country roads
    and paths with exhilarating fragrance,
    as I ran past, with wisps of appreciation,
    to play with cousins and friends

  4. Earl Parsons on said:

    It always seems to start off in one direction, then it takes a turn here and a turn there and the craziest words end up on the page. Such is the life of a mind bending poet.

    The Last Bouquet

    I used to buy flowers
    But not any more
    You see, flowers die
    Petals fall to the floor
    Just a waste of money
    So why spend the dough
    I’d rather buy something
    That lasts, don’t you know
    Jewelry is better
    It lasts all life long
    A poem stirs emotions
    And so does a song
    But flowers are torture
    I mostly just sneeze
    They make my eyes water
    Those darned allergies
    Of course there’ll be flowers
    When I’m gone away
    They’ll cover my casket
    With one last bouquet

    © 2018 Earl Parsons

  5. Earl Parsons on said:

    The Seed

    We plant seeds with our actions and words
    Some seeds sprout; some don’t
    Just like a seed in rich dark soil
    The seeds planted in the soul take root
    Be careful which seeds you plant
    They can come back to haunt you
    Or bless you
    Plant well

  6. By the Sweetness of Her Scent (golden shovel)

    Hanging like grapes from vines, lilac perfumes
    the air taunting, tempting sirens they are
    calling to the butterfly, calling the
    bee to share her exuberant feelings
    of spring, romance, life and love, of
    nuances from aromatic flowers.

    “Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.” ― Heinrich Heine

  7. Darlene Franklin on said:

    Utilizing the waka form . . .

    It’s called Lion’s Teeth
    Sharp and golden, precious
    Befitting a queen
    Only those “dent-de-lions”
    Are weedy dandelions

    But I am the queen
    Of my family and I’ll wear
    My daughter’s heart gift
    A dandelions necklace
    As if they were emeralds

  8. Earl Parsons on said:

    Without the Light

    Without the light from the sun
    And the water from the rain
    Nothing at all would grow
    Without the light

    Without the Light from the Son
    And the gift He gave through pain
    Nothing at all would matter
    Without the Light

  9. Bright Bloom, Fading

    She grew from a seed
    planted by two,
    into a bloom that lit
    up rooms when she
    entered. Blue-black
    hair, wide wise eyes,
    sensuous lips. She
    sun-sparkled, silver dust
    brushed off on all
    the people she charmed–
    young and old. But,

    petals became damaged,
    ravaged by darkness
    of the mind. Life
    was unkind. She could
    not find her way out
    of the maze. The bloom
    withered; the flower died.

  10. “ravaged by darkness of the mind.” These are awful, pitiful words. I watch my mother-in-law only exist day in and day out. It is hard to watch.

  11. In dedication to a man who was about to lose his wife to a terminal illness. She loved daisies.


    She loves me.
    She loves me not with
    -out telling
    me daily.
    Whatever will I do with
    -out my Daisy’s love?

  12. William Preston on said:


    A day is May is usually a treat,
    so full of pleasant sounds and smells and sights
    and generally devoid of excess heat;
    a day in which a human soul delights.

    But now and then a May day brews up hot
    with sultriness that typifies July;
    the kind of day that feels like Old Nick’s pot
    and lends a milkiness throughout the sky.

    And that’s the kind of day we have today
    and so I wish it were already fall.
    And if I could, I would this day belay
    and I would cancel summer, for after all,

    a hazy day in May with temps in the eighties
    just takes me back to summers by the Euphrates.

  13. Love this, William. I know you are an Autumn person.

  14. Walt and Marie: you two are such inspiration.

  15. William Preston on said:

    Marie and Walt, I’ve just finished going through all the poems, adding comments. That quirky behavior I’ve noted in the past is still there. In this instance, most of the time I could not see my comments after posting, but every now and then I could see them, and all of them showed up. eventually. As noted before, this is annoying.

    • I experience it too of late. It is annoying but does appear when I refresh the page. I wonder if our activity slows the process down after all these years? I can’t put a finger on it. Thanks for your perseverance and dedication, Bill!

    • Hi Bill! It’s Marie, here. Per one of the WordPress techs, there is nothing at our site that is causing the issue. She suggest the following:

      He might clear his browser cache and cookies.

      If this seems to be happening for all sites where he comments, Akismet might be catching his email in the spam filter.

      Have him try going here: https://akismet.com/contact/
      Type something like “spam” in the help box, and a form will appear.
      Select “I think Akismet is catching my comments by mistake.” and fill out the rest of the form.

      The Akismet team will check his email to be sure that it’s not getting caught or resolve that if it is.

    • Earl Parsons on said:

      That’s a quirk of many search engines, not usually the site itself. If you want to see your comments immediately, just click the reload page button or refresh button. That usually works.

  16. Pingback: Daisy | echoes from the silence

  17. Darlene Franklin on said:

    At Life’s End

    All life’s blooming with blue mist and goldenrod
    Tickling and wrinkling noses like a sneezeweed
    Glorious price to pay for working in the sod
    Add to autumn crocus and anemones
    Each year’s catalogue offered new, choice seedpods
    Until flowers fill the garden trapeze to trees
    Shouting praise abroad to the Almighty God
    In their final moments to fall to their knees

  18. Well, a comment prompted my offering.


    If only I could worship
    like the early quince of spring,
    believing light is coming,
    speaking faith to hungry bees…

    If only I could worship
    as the gladiolas do,
    my voice frilled with color
    splayed upward to the birds…

    If only I could worship
    like the tufts of grasses, red and green,
    catching with a dance of praise
    the breath, the breezes of His gentle grace…

    A flower’s faith is perfect,
    it was put inside the seed.
    Oh, every living thing and soul,
    by bloom, declare Him!

    © Damon Dean, 2019

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