Welcome April! A poet’s favorite month! 🙂
DAY 28 prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of Poetic Asides: Two for Tuesday! Write a look back and/or a don’t look back poem.
Link to Poetic Asides PAD Challenge Day 28
Want to use a form, and need help choosing one? Here’s our Bloomin’ list ( 😉 ): Inform Poets .
Welcome to April, Bloomers! We’re glad you are here! We will provide Robert’s 2020 April Poem-a-Day Challenge prompts right here at Poetic Bloomings each day. We will suspend our own Sunday prompts during April, in favor of simply poeming alongside the WD Poetic Asides group.
If you share your poems here (and we hope you will!), we also want to urge you to post at PA, as well. The idea is not to take away from Robert’s site, but to have a place where our Bloomers can easily share our poems daily, and interact and encourage one another throughout the month. No need to wait for moderation, here. We are a small and intimate group. We know you! And we are better for it!
ANNOUNCEMENT:
This Friday (May 1), look for Walt’s weekly “For Your Consideration” prompts to begin again. We will also resume our Sunday morning “Seed” prompts, and Wednesday “Inform Poet” prompts. Enjoy the remaining days of Robert Lee Brewer’s April PAD Challenge at Asides, and then let’s jump back into tending our garden here at Bloomings!
❤
Connect, keep healthy, and poem on!
SATCHEL PAIGE COMES TO MIND
He had
some great sayings,
one, about looking back:
don’t do it, for something might be
gaining.
My favorite of his was , “if you can walk, don’t run, if you can stand don’t walk, if you can sit, don’t stand”
Perfect!
I like that, William.
D
A
Y
28
Trying to Recall
When was it, at which point,
that I started looking back,
trying to remember?
When was it, I wonder,
that bananas lost their flavor?
Though I think, lately, they found it.
When did it happen,
that all my friends got old?
Not all of them, but most.
When was it, exactly,
that running became impossible?
And, recently, walking sort of hurts.
When did it happen,
that all my friends got old?
Not all of them, but most.
When were the years
that my parents died?
I think I’ve now outlived them.
When did we stop traveling,
was it after that long September?
Maybe we live now where we used to go.
For me, that last line is a poem all its own.
Absolutely.
Daniel, I love this. Including the bananas finding it. 😉
Amen!
Yep!
I agree, that last line is a winner.
Successful Navigation
4/28/20
Look back only briefly, my friend,
only to see where you’ve been.
Then press ahead, eye on your goals,
to avoid life’s pitfalls and black holes.
Especially the latter, which can suck you in. Love this.
Great advice in an excellent poem.
This is good advice.
SCORCHED EARTH, by Walter J Wojtanik
Condescending diatribe,
incendiary words meant to consume
the essence of all in its path.
A logical progression
in the succession of all things in sight.
Leaving nothing behind,
an endless string of pathos and heart,
a man who could fashion line,
chapter and verse, and what’s worse,
stand by his convictions to rise
above the smouldering ashes,
proverbial phoenix of passion’s pyre.
The fire within becomes his sin,
leaving nothing in his wake,
taking stock of every nuance
of worded profundity, the undoing
of a finely crafted association,
no celebration; no elation.
Just the station to which he has
himself resigned. For in his mind,
he holds the flint that will spark
his survival; a revival. He will not
look back lest he turn to salt.
Poetic Gomorrah is burning.
He will not fan the flames.
Just let the bastard burn and walk away.
I’ve read this three times now. Such power, Walt. Such power.
I don’t know your story, Walt, but this leaves me very unsettled. Powerful words and images and I like to think of “For in his mind, he holds the flint that will spark
his survival; a revival. He will not look back lest he turn to salt.” as a rising of your phoenix.
NINE MINUTES, by Walter J Wojtanik
You come and stay for hours,
amidst the psychedelic flowers
and impossible scenarios.
Running past streets and barrios
with Joses and Marios, looking
for solace in a night full of frightful
turns and plot twists. You’ve wished you
can finish a complete thought,
but your REM cycle keeps running out of gas.
In the foggy distance, a wail. It never fails.
It seems just when you get
to the good part of your dreams you have to depart,
trying to restart every nine minutes for an hour
until your snooze alarm comes back to call.
Oh my, yes.
Now … who decided 9 minutes is the way to go? Why not an even 10? Personally, I think it’s just to mess with us. 😉
How true!
Yes. And why does that have to happen?
I’ve written more than one on the idea of living in the past, looking in life’s rear view too much. Here’s another:
Focus
The journey of life is likened to
A perpetual vacation of sorts
The major focus is straight ahead
With side glances here and there
So rarely do we look in the rear view
But when we do it should be for reference
For where we’ve been is important when
Considering where we are heading
Or to correct a possible wrong turn
And get back on the right road
So look back sparingly
A quick glance once in a while
Keep your focus on life’s road
And live full speed ahead
Couldn’t agree more, Earl! And love the construction of your poem. Excellent.
Another day, another press briefing, and another news media filled with as much hype and alarm as they can muster. It’s sad, but that’s the state of affairs in this divided environment. Hopefully they’ll all get together and quit playing politics, but I doubt it. It’s the age-old fight between good and evil that will go on until the return of Christ.
The Corona Look-Back
Who was wrong or who was right
Who acted first or who drug their feet
What could have been done differently?
Only time will give answers
Where it came from is still in question
And who knew that didn’t speak up?
Is there a vast conspiracy from a group
with evil intentions and money galore?
Only time will give answers
It’s obvious that politics are at play
It’s obvious our rights are being trampled
It’s obvious the hype is massively overblown
And it’s obvious we will get through this
Just how, only time will tell
One day we will look back on Corona
Hopefully with all the right answers
Some will be appalled at the truth
Others will vehemently scream in denial
Hopefully we will learn the lesson that
Nothing is at all as it seems
Still, only time will tell
I once misspoke as I told my dad, “Well, hindsight is 50/50.” Never lived that one down! 😀
Hey. I haven’t written my poem yet. Maybe I need to use this in it! 😉
Good idea, Marie!
😀 !
I went with it. 😀
Unfortunately.
Hahaha.
Musings on Looking Back
One thing I’ve learned. What’s done is done.
The past has been written in indelible ink.
Carved into a tree. Etched on glass. Chiseled in stone.
I feel the seconds moving in a steady stream
yesterday is gone and the day before that and the
day before that all the way back to the first I can
remember. All those gone days. Gone.
I salute you, yesterday, thankful for getting as far as I have.
But, I’ll not slow down and deconstruct you, or grieve, or
wish I’d done this or that because I must be nimble to keep
step with the seconds remaining and write on in indelible
ink the history of me.
Much truth here, and much wisdom. Well written, including where you broke the final thought, as I got caught up in “ink the history of me,” using ink as a verb. EXCELLENT.
Thanks Marie
I’LL NEVER LIVE IT DOWN
At times, my mind gets drifty,
and I sound pretty ditsy.
Like when I said
(my face is red)
that hindsight’s fifty-fifty.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
That is so funny. We still kid my niece for being “Pickled tink”
Pickled tink! Gotta love it!! 😀
LOL! Better than no hindsight at all!
Milestones
During the times I feel like
I’ve accomplished precious little,
I like to look back and try to remember
everything I did manage to pull off.
And for one freeing moment
I forget the regrets,
botch ups, boo boos
and all the stupid things
I’ve surprised myself with
over the years.
Patting yourself on the back
once in a while is healthy.
Memory Gifts
I love to look back
and write poems about my childhood
and pass them off to unsuspecting relatives
at family reunions.
It’s interesting to get different perspectives
of the same people and events.
And when someone does actually remember
the same thing it makes my memories
less like a dream.
Early Memory
One of my earliest memories
is when my aunt made me a birthday cake
with red roses and green lettering.
She held it down low so I could see it.
I said, “It looks delicious.”
She and Mom laughed,
expressing their surprise
at me saying such a big word.
I wondered, “How stupid do they think I am?”
Ever after, I wonder if there are times
when I make a child feel that way.
And once again, all three are well done and good reads.
Memory Gifts made me smile. So many times when my sister and brother get together and reminisce we all remember things differently. Perspective is a weird thing.
Caregiver
She never looks back
Her past is now the present
Tomorrow never comes
I will pick up the pieces
Be her guide into the future