There have been times where we imagined our lives as a motion picture. We surmise who would play the part of us.

But in this case, we’ll wait for the book!

Your auto-biography begins here. Break up your life (up to this point in time) into three chapters. Give each chapter a title.

Write three brief poems (one for each title). For added pats on the back, give your “book” a title as well (the title of your three chapter story).


Two Sisters in Three Chapters

Chapter 1.  Rain.

The day I was born,
it rained hard on my sister …
submerging her soul.

Chapter 2. Wombs.

Her first pregnancy’s
uniqueness dimmed, when I found
myself pregnant, too.

Pregnant together
again. A son for me. A
tragic loss for her.

third pregnancies perhaps seemed
a cruel joke, to her.

Chapter 3.  Lost and Found.

In thirty-five days,
we lost Mom and Dad, and found
a common heartache.

In thirty-five days,
we lost Mom and Dad, and found
shared grief is shared love.

In thirty-five days,
we lost Mom and Dad, and found
a needed sister.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020



CHAPTER 3: PUPPY DOG TALES, by Walter J Wojtanik

Growing up, we always had a dog.
My pal and companion,
a boy’s best friend,
a good listener,
two good ears and no sass!
At the head of the class,
I miss having a dog.

CHAPTER 11: SHY OF THE MARK, by Walter J Wojtanik

My nerves in the presence
of curves and a pretty face
had laced my younger years.
It was one of my greatest fears
to be so frozen in place
for the course of a lifetime.
I was able to shake that phobia
over the course of time.
But, it took a while.

CHAPTER 15: FINDING A VOICE, by Walter J Wojtanik

It’s true, I was a shy guy.
When I’d speak, my voice
would creak and crack,
a knack I would outgrow.
That started to show
when I embraced words.
For the good of my sanity
and some of humanity,
music steered me towards poetry.
The rest, they say, is history!

29 thoughts on “PROMPT #304 – MY LIFE IN WORDS

  1. Walt, this is just SOOOO you! Love it! You so capture the little boy, the young man, and the poet. As always, I’m awed by your easy/pleasing internal rhymes. The BEST.

  2. Mouse, Dog, Cat – 3 haiku

    quiet little mouse
    content to play in shadow
    hides from attention

    busy sniffing dog
    searching for new adventures
    tail wagging with joy

    peaceful purring cat
    curled up with books and poems
    satisfied with life

  3. I Survive

    Ch. 1

    By sheer grit I make it
    through elementary school writing
    a poem a week as assigned
    in middle school by the old nun
    who leaves the room when it’s my turn
    to read aloud: odd girl out
    growing odder through no fault
    of my own odd luck odd house
    odd folks odd looks odd clothes
    dangling a bright red thread

    Ch. 5

    By pure serendipity I graduate
    high school class president
    year book editor oddly enough
    grown into a worker-bee
    first poem published at university
    as I survive the thriving hive
    60s activist pacifist lover
    unraveling: a blue thread

    Ch. 12

    Single mom of one
    later mom of two more
    toddlers tagging along as
    I edit poetry for a small press
    librarian educator advocate
    so many threads now woven
    pain sorrow laughter love
    the is and was and will be
    the twisted rope I hold onto

  4. .
    For the Life of Me

    Chapter 1 – The Beginning

    My God gave me life
    With riches beyond measure
    Though in poverty

    Chapter 18 – The Next Phase

    Time came to move on
    Everything in life would change
    New life in the Blue

    Chapter 62 – Retirement

    Now the golden years
    Have me looking back in time
    And thanking My God

  5. Hanging Out in Two Centuries

    Part I – Baby Boomer

    The war was over
    relief, hope, a future
    lots of babies born
    a real baby boom.
    I was the first child
    and a small skirmish began
    with unhappy parents
    and meddlin’ in laws – dad’s.

    Part II – Korean Conflict and Then the Cold War

    I was too small to be bothered by Korea
    but the Iron curtain and cold war
    was with me in my formative years,
    hanging over me and my generation
    with visions of mushroom clouds
    over America, the world. Then Viet Nam.
    Finally, the civil rights movement
    and still it is a struggle…

    Always at the peripheral of things
    I was never sure of myself- followed
    the crowd, never completely sure
    what I believed or what to believe.
    I lived in two worlds, my grandparent’s
    world and this new “don’t trust the man”
    world. It took a lot of pain and growing
    to get to…

    Part III – What looks like Wisdom

    And here I am wife, mom, nana
    having my own philosophy
    not following the crowd
    writing poetry for myself
    not trying to please everyone
    cause I’ve learned I can’t.
    And I’ve learned there is still
    so much to discover and love
    and wonder at.

  6. Late Afternoon

    The trail pounded
    into some gray brown hardpan
    summer kissed now
    by farewells tumbling
    from cottonwoods along the river

    scalloped hearts sliding
    down the rise each different
    in the golden hues of autumn
    lemon and goldenrod some
    sun bright others tarnished
    by various vicissitudes: drought
    voracious insects pelting rain

    but their colorful message shines
    beyond those minor flaws
    slickened surfaces catching
    last sun slicing shade
    cast by the old hedge tree
    making purple asters wave
    on woody stems their lifted heads
    awaiting just one more kiss
    as the leaves sift, settle.

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