PROMPT # 344 – NEITHER A BORROWER NOR A LENDER BE

William Shakespeare had written that quote in the title. Consider these other quotes:

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; ~William Shakespeare

Jazz has borrowed from other genres of music and also has lent itself to other genres of music. ~Herbie Hancock

Sunlight fell upon the wall; the wall received a borrowed splendor. ~Rumi

You notice the pattern here. We are borrowing and lending. In any machination of these terms, write your poem. We’re looking at a borrow poem, or a lend poem. In another vein, write a poem that borrows something from another poem, song or art form. Or you can lend a line or phrase out for someone to use in their work. The way we share our words here, being either a borrower or a lender can be a very good thing.

MARIE’S SILLY STAB:

Borrowing Trouble?

She went to the library
to choose a scary book
and she shook
as she read all alone in her bed
with her light brightly lit,
and she wanted to quit
but she couldn’t,
and wouldn’t you know
that the inflow of fright
lasted into the night.

Lesson learned,
she returned the book,
then borrowed her sister
to sleep with her.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

WALT’S PIECE:

BEG, BORROW AND STEAL

Please, don’t make me ask again,
don’t make me beg and plead.
I need you as a lover, a friend.
Please, don’t make me ask again.
Those mixed signals that you send
won’t fulfill my needs.
Please, don’t make me ask again,
don’t make me beg and plead.

I don’t want to borrow your heart,
I know I’ll need it for a while,
as I have right from the start,
I don’t want to borrow your heart.
I’ve been hit by cupid’s dart,
launched from your sweet smile.
I don’t want to borrow your heart,
I know I’ll need it for a while.

But if I must, I’ll steal it,
that fact is undeniable.
and when it’s gone, you’ll feel it,
But if I must, I’ll steal it.
I hope you won’t repeal it,
my love is quite reliable.
But if I must, I’ll steal it,
That fact is undeniable.

© Walter  J Wojtanik

POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM# 66 – “THE TROUBLE WITH SNOWMEN”

Roger McGough CBE FRSL is an English poet, performance poet, broadcaster, children’s author and playwright. He was one of the leading members of the Liverpool poets, a group of young writers inspired by the Beat poetry movement, as well as the music and culture of 1960s Liverpool. McGough is a member of the Royal Society of Literature and President of the Poetry Society.

McGough was behind much of the humorous dialogue in The Beatles’ film, Yellow Submarine.  (he did not receive an on-screen credit.) At about the same time a selection of his poems was published in a best-selling anthology of verse entitled The Mersey Sound, published in 1967, (revised in 1983 and again in 2007.)

McGough developed an unusual composition in 1981, co-writing an “electronic poem” called Now Press Return with the programmer Richard Warner. Now Press Return incorporated several themes, including user-defined elements to the poem, lines which changed their order (and meaning) every few seconds, and text which wrote itself in a spiral around the screen.

Roger McGough

THE TROUBLE WITH SNOWMEN
By Roger McGough

'The trouble with snowmen,'
Said my father one year
'They are no sooner made
than they just disappear.

I'll build you a snowman
And I'll build it to last
Add sand and cement
And then have it cast.

And so every winter,'
He went on to explain
'You shall have a snowman
Be it sunshine or rain.'

And that snowman still stands
Though my father is gone
Out there in the garden
Like an unmarked gravestone.

Staring up at the house
Gross and misshapen
As if waiting for something
Bad to happen.

For as the years pass
And I grow older
When summers seem short
And winters colder.

The snowmen I envy
As I watch children play
Are the ones that are made
And then fade away.

PROMPT # 343 – FAST AND SLOW

Again. we’re working both sides of the street as we explore FAST and SLOW. We’ll write either into a poem. But to compound things further, you are to come up with a compound word highlighting either extreme. We’ll be doing a few of these exercises with different opposing ideas so this is just the beginning.

Remember these examples: Fast Start, Slow Burn, Fast Track, Slow Down… We’ve done similar things before. Write fast or slow, just not too slow or half fast!

MARIE’S POEM:

Aesop’s Barbershop

We know much of a fairytale
Of Tortoise and the Hare,
But I can tell you details that
Got lost somewhere out there.

See, Aesop had a barbershop
Where he would share folklore
While snippets of each patron’s hair
Would float from head to floor.

While gleaning nest material
From under Aesop’s chair,
A little bird learned more about
the Tortoise and the Hare.

Not only did Hare take a nap
While racing such a slowpoke,
He also caught a matinee,
And shot the breeze with townsfolk.

He stopped in to the barbershop
To get the latest chinwag.
He wrote it all into his pad,
And stuck it in his bookbag.

That steadfast Tortoise won the race,
Which Hare did not foresee.
How do I know these new-found facts?
A little bird told me.  

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

(Tried to use as many compound words as I could.  I ended up with a dozen.  Fun exercise, Walt!)

WALT’S SPEED:

I CRAVE TEXAS TOAST FOR BREAKFAST

I crave Texas Toast for breakfast.
thick and hot it hits the spot, I’ve got to have it
spread with hot butter love,
slathered for me to put my lips to;
sink my teeth into – jelly and jam it,
all sticky and savored for the flavor
it brings. I wish for each succulent squish
as I nibble and lap it. Sap it dry until I come for more.
Early morning, every morning
without warning, when the alarm rings
our pulses will race, flushed faces await.
Most celebrated until we’re sated.
Thickly sliced adding spice to life.
What I crave the most is Texas Toast for breakfast.
“Would you like juice?”
Yes, please!

POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM #65 – “WHEN I DIE I WANT YOUR HANDS ON MY EYES”

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

Pablo Neruda was the pen name (and eventually the legal name) of Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto. He was of Chilean birth and had been a poet, diplomat and politician. Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. He wrote in a variety of genres, including surreal, historic, political diatribes, and his works included a prose autobiography, and passionate love poems. His collection, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (1924) contains some of his best loved love poems. This sonnet featured below, WHEN I DIE I WANT YOUR HANDS ON MY EYES, wishes his love to live on well after his death.


WHEN I DIE I WANT YOUR HANDS ON MY EYES
By Pablo Neruda 	

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me one more time
to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,
for you to smell the sea that we loved together
and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on living
and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,
for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,
so that my shadow passes through your hair,
so that they know by this the reason for my song.


PROMPT # 342 – NOT AN EXIT

Sitting at my desk, I look up to see a placard over the door that says “NOT AN EXIT.” But it leads to a room with a sign over its other door that clearly reads “EXIT.” So would it be a “Prelude to an Exit?” Whatever. Today you have another choice to make. Write an EXIT poem. Or Write a NOT AN EXIT poem. Decide if you want to leave a situation or remain in the one you’ve been in.

MARIE’S ENTRANCE:

I’m an introvert.
I feel the need to exit
before I enter.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

WALT’S EXIT:

POETIC ESCAPE

I get lost in my words.
Every thought leaves me
to wax poetic; it is therapeutic.
Poetry is an escape that takes me
to distant places, to see loving faces,
to share traces of myself, to fly
a mile high then to land again.
To share my heart and soul,
to lose control and be verbose,
or closerthanthisclose. I go
where my words take me.
They are an escape, not an exit!

© Walter J Wojtanik - 2021

POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM # 64 – “BRIGHT STAR, WOULD I WERE STEDFAST AS THOU ART”

John Keats (1795 – 1821)

John Keats was an English poet prominent in the second wave of Romantic poets, with Byron and Shelley, his poems were only in publication for four years before he died at the age of 25. His poetry had been criticized in his brief lifetime, yet his fame grew after his death. He had earned his place in the canon of English literature, serving as the inspiration and a strong influence on many writers. One poet called his first encounter with Keats’s work an experience that reflected his life. Keats’ style was “heavily loaded with sensual innuendo”, most noticed in the series of odes. As with most of the Romantics, he accentuated extreme emotion through a strong use of natural imagery.

 “BRIGHT STAR, WOULD I WERE STEDFAST AS THOU ART”
By John Keats


Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
         Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
         Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
         Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

PROMPT # 341 – HOME IS WHERE THE POEM IS

We’re giving the heart a break (not as in broken heart, but as a rest) when we say the title of this prompt. Your poem is inspired by someplace close to your – heart (break’s over). Take the place you were born, where you grew up, or somewhere you lived, and use it is the base of your poem. If this place is famous for something, write that poem. I was born in Lackawanna, New York and for the longest time it was a steel town. So, Lackawanna Steel became my title/topic. You can take this poem anywhere you want and you’ll never leave home. Write that home pome!

MARIE’S HOME:

The Heart of it All (Fibonacci)

Home
Is
The state
Of my heart:
Heart-shaped Ohio.
“Ohio, The Heart of It All,”
Is more than its slogan, to me. It’s a certainty
Born of dappled sunlight, porch swing swishes, marching bands, sure love, and lingering laughter.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

(Bummer. My final line, written in 21 syllables, breaks up on site.)

WALT’S PLACE:

LACKAWANNA STEEL

Lackawanna was home long before I knew I’d roam,
and find another place that fills this space in my heart,
From my start I was forged in Lackawanna Steel; a real
sense of structure and foundation built upon the
rigid girders of steel. Bethlehem Steel gave us all we had,
or all that Dad earned to set us up to succeed.
He worked hard and lived harder with liquor the answer,
and a demise from cancer. The plant had long since closed,
and I suppose it was just as well. The swell of steel workers
had found a similar fate, much too late to save them.
But this steel town outside of Buffalo, found itself
deeply seeded in each native son’s hearts. From the start
they were all “Men of Steel” good to feel at home
just south of where the Buffalo roam!

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2021