Bowie smiling
David Bowie in 2002

It’s a new year. Hopefully we’ll experience changes in a positive way. (Not anything like the past couple of years). And as we think of changes, who knew change better than the Thin White Duke, David Bowie, who would have celebrated his 75th birthday yesterday. Bowie was instrumental in changing music. He changed his style (think Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars vs. Little Drummer Boy with Bing Crosby). He had changed his persona on a few occasions, always morphing into different versions of himself. Then there is one of his hit singles, “Changes.”

We’re writing a change poem. Change can do you good. And the aspect of change, from spare change, to loose change, to whatever change you can imagine. Perhaps change your poetic style for this one. You decide whether bad or good, but make your Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes flow!



I’m itchin’ to upgrade, and pitchin’ a fit.
For now, I’m afraid, I have zilch to submit.
While someone is flippin’ through pages of verse,
I want my name there before I’m in a hearse.
It’s paltry and petty, this dream I’ve unfurled. 
Improvin’ at versin’ can’t worsen the world.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



I've found myself slowing down a bit,
pitching less of a fit and finding the groove
I'm in moves me in a whole new direction.
I'm in no hurry of late, not looking to become
the late, great Walt. It's my fault, bringing
so much passion to my words that you've heard
before. I'm more sedate, (that's debatable)
less stable with all my cards on the table.
The best cards held close to the vest
have long been played. Not looking 
to cash my chips in just yet. I forget where
I had left them. I'll get them neatly stacked
and be back for the final deal. So my steps
have faltered a smidge and Walter by the fridge
is where you'll find me. Don't mind me.
As long as I've got a few arms up my sleeves,
I'll leave here writing verse. It could be worse.
I could be riding in the back of the hearse,
instead of giving the funeral director directions.

118 thoughts on “PROMPT #368 – TIME FOR A CHANGE

  1. Worshipping privately in a Caribbean wonderland, your poetic “change” prompt is reminiscent to me of God’s “changelessness”. Not my own work, but still answering your prompt, this beautiful poem written by Robert Grant (b.1779; d. 1838), was first published in Edward Bickersteth’s Christian Psalmody (1833) as “O Worship the King all glorious above”. Can you hear the familiar tune? This is the sixth stanza;

    “The earth with its store of wonders untold,
    Almighty, Thy power hath founded of old;
    Established it fast by a changeless decree,
    And round it hath cast, like a mantle, the sea.”


    abound in the absence of sound;
    explain the presence of strange things
    and strange words from poets who’ve found
    that it takes strange verse to astound

    NB: Don’t try to figure it out, folks; I can’t.

  3. Walt, I get the feeling that “acceptance” could also be the title of your piece. Whatever the title, it has all the old flash and verve.

  4. Marie, I love the happy sounds in your versin’, especially that final line, which has more of a message than it first appears to have.


    Some call me a duplicitous chameleon,
    or a double dealin’ reptile.

    All on account I change ma’ skins
    when the highfalutin begins….

    But I’m no snake in the grass—
    I swear, it’s just my style!

    Benjamin Thomas


    A penny for your thoughts,
    has changed my mind.
    Poke a hole in my head—
    Or better yet, jiggle it around,
    and see what you’ll find.

    They say, “a penny saved is
    a penny gained.” Well, if that’s
    the gospel truth, I’ll spend my
    riches for all your thoughts—
    And consider me changed!

    Benjamin Thomas


    I once thought to stay in my lane
    was destiny.

    Until I discovered a treasure trove—
    gleaming, mystical, voluble poetry.

    It changed my lane.
    I’m not the same.

    Now there’s a strength of a smile,
    across my face.

    Instead of the long rugged road
    of misery.

    Benjamin Thomas


    I’ve heard the tired mantra—
    “You can’t teach an old dog
    new tricks.”

    Well, you can’t. Unless,
    you make him younger,
    brighter, vivid, and faster.

    If the tricks don’t work—
    then, the game must be

    Benjamin Thomas


    The vibratory nature of music
    is the beauty of change.

    The movement of molecules
    change position drastically.

    In response to external forces of nature
    beyond their control.

    Compression. Rarefaction.
    Compression. Rarefraction.

    Its healing tones mesmerize—
    by the time it lures the eardrum.

    Change is the quintessential aspect
    and ultimate dynamism of life.

    The tale of each day is rife,
    from one orchestral melody to the next.

    Its pitch gloriously reflects—the bold breast
    of the kingfisher in the midst of hunt.

    The timbre of the times flies with the rapid—
    “flappety-flap” of the adventuress hummingbird.

    Change is absolute, inevitable, and absurd,
    at its relentless, ongoing rate.

    Change—is our single, underlying fate,
    from the splendor of birth to the silence of the grave.

    From a brave 37 trillion celled organism,
    to silver hair and old felled bones.

    We all reach the silence of the grave,
    and return to our home.

    Ashes to ashes,
    and dust to dust.

    Benjamin Thomas

  10. Walt:

    Your poem contains so much meaning and motion, rhyme and reason, wordplay and wisdom, and LIFE.
    I love this entire poem. But the below really made me smile.

    “So my steps
    have faltered a smidge and Walter by the fridge
    is where you’ll find me. Don’t mind me.
    As long as I’ve got a few arms up my sleeves,
    I’ll leave here writing verse. It could be worse.”

    Hugs across the lake,
    Your partner in rhyme

  11. Unnecessary

    Our housing is perfect,
    no reason to change,
    location, location
    must not rearrange.

    But I found some small change,
    In the usual way,
    in some old slacks
    on laundering day.

    Didn’t matter but if a million
    should slyly appear,
    I’d likely be grateful.
    I might even cheer.

    Still, my life is too good
    to be spoiled by money,
    with wife, friends, our cat,
    I’ve no need, but my honey

    might say something different,
    might jump at the luck.
    She’d know how to use it,
    with aplomb and with pluck.

    I’ve no need of profit
    but she long ago learned
    how to spend her good fortune,
    even when unearned.

    Her charities likely
    would gain what they need,
    especially stray kitties,
    oh my how they’d feed.

    But Macy’s and Nordstrom’s
    And Chico’s, for sure,
    would garner new sales
    they have such allure.

    Yet after the rush
    of a bounty so vast,
    we’d come to reality,
    hopefully fast.

    There just isn’t much
    we don’t already have,
    nothing to wish for,
    nothing to crave.

    So let that big bonus
    find a home with another
    and leave us in peace,
    in love with each other.

  12. Awaiting my change

    Appreciate your youth, where noise is resounding,
    possessing strong bodies, energy abounding,
    copious bright prospects drift on the offing;
    bright is the light, the sun, moon and stars,
    no clouds follow rain, deep breath reservoirs,
    unplagued by wheezing and coughing.

    For rapidly approaches unchecked ephemerality,
    strong men bow low; dimmed windows portend sure mortality
    when one rises early at the sound of a bird;
    exhaustion comes quickly, recovery protracted,
    the almond tree blossoms, conversations redacted,
    when aches grasp new life in The Word.

    Day by day brings decay, the outward man perishes,
    his strength is dried up, resting he cherishes,
    awaiting his ultimate change;
    where the sun never sets, the new man in full bloom,
    realizing reality, escaping due doom
    death for life his exchange.

    Be admonished by these, making books has no end,
    much study is a wearisome, meditation a friend;
    let not anxiety cause you to fall
    hear the conclusion, set free all attachments:
    “Fear God and keep His commandments”,
    For this acquiescence is man’s all.

    Ecclesiastes 12:1-14

  13. So Many Changes

    Change the calendar
    It’s a new day
    Change that diaper
    And throw it away
    Change your mind
    Something came up
    Change your plans
    You got a sick pup
    Change your clothes
    It’s so cold outside
    Change that menu
    Now open up wide
    Change that tire
    Can’t ride on a flat
    Change your home ‘cause
    It’s bad where you’re at
    Change your outlook
    Things will get better
    Change your goals and
    Becomes a go-getter
    Change what you must
    Change what you should
    Just remember to never
    Change what is good

  14. “Uncle” Fred went to his banquet…

    He wasn’t an uncle, but he was kin
    So many ways and he was to me
    A constant source of stories
    For he was a master storyteller,
    And always a gentleman.

    I felt his going,
    And wanted to travel
    To tell him what he meant to me…
    But I was ill, and
    That I will regret,
    But loving this good-hearted man
    I will never regret.

    My parents made a point
    Of traveling to Chapin
    Every year right after thanksgiving
    To get a Christmas tree
    For his sister who was a widow.
    Since I was the only one who traveled there,
    My brothers never had the joy
    Of being blessed by stories
    That I heard each time
    I saw “Uncle” Fred….

    He went to his banquet last night.
    I know Ma, Da, and his sisters will be there,
    And there waiting will be his dearest Martha,
    The wife, he has missed since she passed.
    And he will revel them with tales
    Of the family he left here…
    I can feel the joy flowing down on us…
    Who will miss him,
    And love him…
    “Uncle” Fred, welcome to your banquet.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    January 9, 2022


    Bath time
    Let’s say noon
    Knock at the door
    I got in too soon

    Peacefully watching birds
    A quiet cup of tea
    Grandchildren are here
    Jump up and see

    A moment to sit with paper
    A poem floating in my head
    The wind knocks over the furniture
    I’ve flown into action instead

    Favorite array of movies
    A chosen ideal one
    Lights flicker out
    Gone in an instant, my fun

    Off on an exciting adventure
    Everything ready and in hand
    Canceled flights and transportation
    More than anyone can stand

    It seems so very worth it
    I’ll go ahead and plan my day
    As I remember the range of change
    If nothing works out, there’s nothing more
    to say

    (c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2022

  16. Changes Under the Colorado Blue Sky

    Beneath the Colorado blue sky,
    a frozen world stretches out,
    an icy lake, frosty pines, bare aspens,
    a cabin tucked in at the mountain base.
    The only life, a wisp of smoke
    rising from the brick chimney.

    The lake mirrors the Colorado blue sky,
    snow-covered distant mountains,
    aspens sporting their pale green leaves,
    Pines, Columbine, Indian Paintbrush, Bluebells.
    Cabin occupants peek out the windows,
    Watching bears, deer, elk congregate by the water.

    The Colorado blue sky bursts forth in brilliance,
    a stark backdrop to mountains clinging to their snowy dress.
    The pines and aspens in vivid green drink from the deep lake.
    The cabin doors and windows fling open
    and barefoot children run out and play along the lake’s edge.
    Butterflies, bees and dragonflies flit about their heads.

    Aspens aflame in gold, against the Colorado blue sky,
    shake their castanets in a gentle breeze.
    The cabin’s family sets off for a hike to enjoy fall colors.
    The elk and deer start their trek to lower elevations.
    Town’s people set their camera’s up along the lake’s edge,
    0ohing and aahing at the double dose of reds and oranges.

    Colorado skies, clear and blue nearly every day,
    show off the wonders of the changing seasons.

  17. The Change Game

    Life is filled with changes
    Re-dos and rearranges
    Some necessary
    Some not
    Some easy
    Some hard fought
    Some just plain stupid
    Some well thought out
    Some ask the questions
    What was that all about?
    Change can be good
    Change can be bad
    Some changes make us
    Wish for what we had
    Changes are choices
    God lets us make
    Choose changes wisely
    We need no mistakes

  18. Chancing It

    Small change clings
    to your damp palm

    niggles in corners
    lost cobwebs caught
    in vision’s periphery

    a tingle in the gut
    announcing itself
    with just a skosh
    of fear

    before you fling it
    spinning in the bright
    sunlight as you bend
    to see how it lands
    heads/tails portents

    imprinted with lines
    daring you to cross
    the invisible
    changes open to
    hope happiness possibility

    to let yourself go
    so that your hair falls
    onto your shoulders
    pins clattering on hardwood
    shoes flying from feet slithering
    beneath the ancient buffet
    as soles move to the beat
    of oaken heartwood

    as you begin to dance
    chancing your reflection
    in the French doors
    but only you are


    I change course,
    within the slight inflection of piercing wind.
    I was there, am not—
    neither here, nor there again.

    I flutter—
    meandering, like a giddy, painted lady
    butterfly. Sunbathing, featherbrained,
    under a tilted sky.

    I move—
    skip a beat, like an ephemeral breeze;
    dancing amidst the freedom of
    autumn’s lambent leaves.

    I falter—
    along its drain of artisanal paint,
    beauty of manifold pigment. A loss
    that only the craftsman sees.

    I change—
    switch, like a garment ready to serve
    its true slave master. Tis’ the sole remedy
    to thwart, forestall, any disaster.

    Benjamin Thomas


    There is poetry,
    amid the finality
    of angry flames.

    A soothing echo,
    of the music of change—
    within orchid hues.

    Hungry orange tints,
    jasmine yellows, ferocious rose,
    and torturous blues.

    Her sweet song is rent,
    the final stanza,
    has paid its dues.

    Ashes. Ashes.
    Grays. Blacks.


    Benjamin Thomas


    Nothing is so irrevocable
    as the changing of days.

    The surety
    of light.


    A changing
    of the age.

    When given the
    kindness of repentance.

    The blessing,
    in changing of ways.

    The blinking of eyes
    from one moment,

    to the next.

    Subtle hints of
    the day.

    The appearance
    of shadows.

    The subtext.

    The skilled eye only
    catches what is seen—

    But not,
    what is in between,


    But just think.
    Only faith—

    Can see,
    the unseen.

    Yet faith,
    unlike the eyes—

    does not blink.

    The day
    has dawned,

    the shadows
    have fallen away.

    The kingdom,
    is near.

    Benjamin Thomas


    My heart changed direction,
    at the sight of her legs.

    Like the effortless ebullience
    of crystal clear water.

    Taking its rightful course
    through a barren land.

    Like the epic chemistry
    of dance.

    An astonishing gait

    Poetry in black velvet

    Was the immaculate sight
    of romance.

    Benjamin Thomas


    I know not thee, who I now stand against.
    Does an ambitious man not have a right?
    To stand his ground, demand fair recompense?
    Though an impalpable foe does not fight;
    still he wins the battle in surefire ways,
    the inevitability of change—
    A kingly knight, in all affairs displayed.
    The opponent regards it oddly strange.
    But he attempts to conquer his own fate.
    Swimming upstream a great raging river,
    unknowingly put crow upon his plate….
    Humbled—in a tide that made him shiver.
    The knight is fierce and will not be defeated.
    Heedless of foe, the course fully completed.

    Benjamin Thomas

  24. The Story of Ashes


    There’s such a mystery
    to their story.

    Gray forgotten

    of what once was.
    Of who, was—


    Or left behind,
    in the land

    of the living.


    Once living

    Or things—


    to minute
    gray carbon chaff.


    To the most basic


    The absolute

    of change.

    Benjamin Thomas

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