PROMPT #292 – VOICE

For this morning’s prompt, let’s explore voice.  Some have a lovely singing voice.  Some like to voice their opinions.  There are those who have a huge platform for voice, and those who feel they have no voice at all.  We refer to a “tone” in our voice.  Of course we also recognize and admire a good poetic voice.  However you would like to express yourself, we’re hear to listen.

MARIE’S VOICE

in need to be heard,
he sings. flies.  calls. cries.  songbird –
winged and otherwise.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

WALT’S VOICE

I’m taking another path to the prompt. This is my musical composition,

YESTERDAY’S DREAMS

sung and performed by me. Totally my voice.

Click on the title to hear it.

The lyrics:

YESTERDAY’S DREAMS

Melody and Lyrics by Walter J. Wojtanik – © 1982

Unconvincing lies of strangers,
hidden dangers, of the dreams we used to share.
They tell me, try to tell me that you never cared,
taking me far away, another day… alone.

Silence of the night, it finds me,
and reminds me, of the emptiness inside.
It chills me, slowly kills me to think love has died.
Now that you’re far away, I’ve got to say… it’s true…

I can’t live on YESTERDAY’S DREAMS.
Making plans on yesterday’s schemes.
I’m all over dreaming of yesterday and you!

I’ve heard it said that breaking up is hard to do,
but it’s not half as hard if you know what to do.
So go your separate way, without the urge to say…I love you.
Leaving me even more, like before so far away……

Yeah, so now you’re gone, and I’m dealing
with the feeling and the emptiness subsides.
I’m starting from our parting, and I feel alive.
The lies of yesterday, are truth today, because…

I can’t live on YESTERDAY’S DREAMS.
No more plans on yesterday’s schemes.
I’m all over dreaming of yesterday and you!

I’ve heard it said that breaking up is hard to do,
but it’s not half as hard if you know what to do.
So go your separate way, without the urge to say…I love you.
Leaving me even more, like before so far away……

Yeah, so now you’re gone, and I’m dealing
with the feeling and the emptiness is gone.
I’m starting from our parting, and I’m moving on.
The lies of yesterday, are truth today, because…

I can’t live on YESTERDAY’S DREAMS.
No more plans on yesterday’s schemes.
I’m all over dreaming of yesterday and you!

PROMPT #291 – MEMORIAL DAY

Tomorrow we celebrate the American holiday we have come to know as Memorial Day, on which we honor those men and women of the United States Military who died in service.  This holiday was originally known as Decoration Day, as graves of the fallen were decorated with spring flowers.  It has also become unofficially recognized as the beginning of the summer season.

Today, use Memorial Day to spark your poem.  Perhaps you will be inspired to honor a soldier who was a fallen friend or family member.   Maybe you would prefer to write about family barbeques, spring flowers, summer heat, the Civil War, or the American flag.  Wherever this prompt takes you, we will follow and celebrate with you.

MARIE’S RESPONSE:

His Navy Dress Blues
displayed on the bed, look like
he was ten years old.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 


WALT’S POEM:

MEMORIALS FROM MY BOYHOOD HOME, by Walter J Wojtanik

In the center of our yard a flower bed grew,
a garden of beauty brought fully into view,
and in the center of the plot a pole was planted,
straight and true and never slanted
until the iron rusted after dad had died.

As a boy, I tried to shinny skyward to the top
of the flagpole that marked our place. A space
where Old Glory’s banner proudly flew, a wave
of red and white and blue unfurled and true
to mark a sailor’s port and an immigrant’s station;

a symbol of a valiant nation honored in its way.
Today the pole is gone. Fallen by rusts’s voracious
appetite. The naturalized citizen who saluted in reverence
to the land of his preference has been laid to rest.
The proud chest of the sailor rises and falls no more,

his ship moored in its silent shore, his dutiful chore
is done. The memory of these people and places
is etched, their faces tattooed on hearts and minds that
held them dear. All that remains here is this banner aloft
crisp and clean, flown to keep their memories alive!

INFORM POET – DIZAIN

Last week, we glossed over a few French poetic forms. Today we explore the Dizain specifically.

A Dizain is ten lines rhymed;

usually (though not by definition) iambic pentameter.

This is originally a French form and initially would have been made up of eight syllable lines,

but later ten syllable lines were also used.

The few examples of this form in England did prefer Iambic Pentameter, but that’s purely up to the poet.

The rhyme scheme is: a-b-a-b-b-c-c-d-c-d.

 

WALT’S EXAMPLE DIZAIN:

SAN JOSE, by Walter J Wojtanik

“Do you know the way to San Jose?”
          “That is a good question that you ask!”
“I’ve been driving all night, but I’ve lost my way!”
          “It surely seems a daunting task.”
“Thank God, I brought a full hip flask

        “Maybe I could ride with you?”
“The company might be good, that’s true!”
          “I could talk while you would drive”
“And I’d stay awake the whole way through!”
          “A darn good way to stay alive!”

 

  • A variation on the Dizain called a Dialog Dizain.

PROMPT #290 – SMALL ISN’T SMALL AFTER ALL

For this morning’s prompt, let’s write about little things that have a big impact.

A few ideas:

– One little nagging thought that impacts your behavior
– One little prayer that changed the course of a life
– A newborn baby
– A tiny wayward ember that sparks an unwanted fire
– A bit of hatred
– Perhaps even a modest prompt that sparks a grand poem

Try to think outside the virus. 😉

MARIE’S ATTEMPT:

SIGNIFIC’ANT

At the top of the slide, she screams.
(As in chillingly nightmarish dreams.)
And it’s all justified:
There’s an ant on the slide,
So she’s coming apart at the seams.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 

WALT’S POEM:

THINGS SHE SAID, by Walter J Wojtanik

So many words passed between two hearts to last a lifetime. And long before I found my rhyme, I found truth in the things she said. She saw me as something I never saw in myself, this spritely elf of a girl with her up turned nose and bright brown eyes that rose to meet mine when my own nose touched hers. She said, “You have too much heart for one girl, and yet you give it to me alone.” And all the love that shone in her eyes said all that she needed to say.

On the day life ends

it seems like the best of friends

knew each other’s hearts

PROMPT #289 – HUGS AND KISSES ON THE BOTTOM

Today is Mother’s Day.

First, a hearty Happy Mother’s Day to all who have given their heart and soul to the cause. (Including Samuel L. Jackson who is a bad mother in his own right!)

In this phase of social distance and maintaining personal space, the celebration of our mothers takes a strange turn. If we still have moms with us, the urge (and need) to embrace them with all the love they deserve is unbearable. To spend a few moments in their presence would do us all wonders, I’m sure. Maybe we’ll chat on the phone (or FaceTime). Maybe we’ll send them a card in lieu of that face-to-face, with XOXO scrawled upon it – hugs and kisses on the bottom.

So here we celebrate the concept of motherhood. Marie and I have both lost our moms (angels who have probably met, contrary to their earth bound progeny).

Write a Mother poem. If you’ve still got yours with you, continue to love them and thank them. If not, continue to love them and be grateful for their influence and love throughout your life.

We love you Mom!

MARIE’S MOM:

DEAR MOM,

I wonder if you smiled after tucking me in at night, as I yelled, “I love you and I like you,” until I heard you reach the bottom of the stairs.

When I was in high school, you and I would often walk Naples’ beach. I told you how much I enjoyed our beach walks.  You told me I would get a boyfriend, and would no longer choose to walk the beach with you.  I got that boyfriend, and spent a great deal of my waking hours with him.

I wonder if you smiled each time I asked you to walk the beach with me.

Even through my teen years, you made sure you were home when I got home from school.  You didn’t want me coming home to an empty house. You stopped whatever you were doing, and took time to talk.  Even then, I understood the blessing of that.

I wonder if you smiled whenever you remembered me telling you I appreciated coming home to you.

I believe early Alzheimer’s began to separate you from yourself.  I think you recognized that, and feared eventual separation from all of us.  Perhaps that’s why you began saying, “I love you.  You know that.”  You wanted to make sure your love for us was so deeply rooted that there was little risk of it getting lost somewhere in a possible future of unknowingness.  You know that.  That little phrase attached to I love you was part of who you were.  Yes, we knew that. You were kind, and good.  You loved well.

I wonder if you smiled somewhere inside when I whispered, “I love you and I like you,” in those final days when you were growing less responsive.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 

WALT’S MOM WORX:

DON’T TALK BACK TO YOUR MOTHER, by Walter J Wojtanik

Respect came in various lessons,
and messin’ with Ma was one learned early.
The old man went squirrelly when we dissed
his missus. He truly went nuts,
no ifs, ands or buts.

No ifs, ands or butts
would not be spared if we dared sass back.
A swift smack on the behind
would find you and remind you,
“Don’t talk back to your Mother!”

Don’t talk back to your Mother.
But, giving Dad the lip with a slip of the tongue
would have also “brung” the wrath of Dad.
He wasn’t bad, but he had a fuse you needed not light.
We had to fight the urge disobey.

We had to fight the urge to disobey.
We’d say what he wanted to hear,
and wait until we were clear of earshot
before we got our frustrations out.
It wasn’t about what we said.

It wasn’t about what we said.
Instead, it was how we said it.
I’d live to regret it that my last words to mom
came from a dark place. The hurt on her face.
stays with me to this day.
It was too late to watch what I say.

It is too late to watch what I said.
Now instead, I pray I had been forgiven,
(I had) I was glad that someone made of pure love
would put herself above all that.
Loved and ne’er forgotten, Mom!

 

INFORM POETS – INTERNAL RHYME

So here we are, still battling this scourge, taking precautions and surviving. Some of us are going about life under “new” guidelines, but as “normal” as we can get. Some of us were (are) stuck inside for a period of time. We have become internal. So why not play with internal rhyme. Sure, it’s not actually a “form” but it gets us out of the confines of a rigid form (we’ve had enough of that). Play with your words today and let loose. We could sure use it!

Subject matter: does not matter.

Just inject some sound somewhere inside.