Claudette J. Young began life very early, sucking in information and experience like her mother’s vacuum inhaled grass stems and dandelion fluff after a day in the sun. She’s lived in many areas of the country, preferring to experience places for longer than vacations allow. Along the way, she’s collected characters, dialects, and impressions that get translated into poems, essays, and stories.
Claudette began sharing those translations in 2009 and continues to write with passion and determination. Her success is defined by her own criteria and satisfaction.
Claudette’s WEB WEDNESDAY INTERVIEW 2/15/2012
You may find more of Claudette Young at:
http://claudsy.blogspot.com/ (Claudsy’s Calliope)
http://trailinginspirations.wordpress.com/ (Trailing Inspirations)
http://claudsy.wordpress.com/ (Claudsy’s Blog [wordpress])
Sampling of published works:
Yahoo News/Associated Content (Travel, op-ed, children’s story, Yahoo Writer Style Book)
SuperTeacher Worksheets (Math Word Problems and quizzes, incorporating reading comprehension with problem solving and logic skills)
Sea Giraffe Magazine [online] (Poetry pending release date)
Soft Whispers Magazine [online] (Poetry)
The River Literary Journal [online] (Poetry)
Small River Stones Journal [online] (Poetry)
Prompted: An International Collection of Poems (Poetry Anthology)
My Friend, Smories and other online magazines (Children’s stories)
ICL Newsletter (Articles for children’s writers)
© All postings and intellectual materials on this page are property of Claudette J. Young.
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
I feel even more like a real, live poet since Walt and Marie gave me my very own poet page. Thank you so much, my friends. You’ve created a lovely monster of an opportunity here in your garden.
This is as much about creating garden rooms as it is about poetry, I think; each different by perspective, each layered in beds of blossoms grown in their unique soils.
Soon, Walt and Marie, you’ll have a personal magazine that has subscribers from all over the planet. Think about that for a moment.
Potential Columns:
Interviews of International poets
Poetic Form of the Day
Individual Poet Selections on Accompanying Pages
Poem Challenges
Upcoming Contest Page
Badges for blog and websites
Oh, yes, I can see it now. Good work, guys. Glad you thought of all this and can work to put it in place.
Claudsy
For my first poem on this clean slate of possibilities I choose this one. I hope the reader enjoys it. It describes the attitude of one of my aunts and how she approaches the world.
One Woman’s Contribution
Tireless work for others’ benefit,
Persistent thoughts of others’ welfare,
Accepting life’s little handouts as gifts;
Could these be inspiration’s real meaning?
Does the combination define Grace’s
Presence within a single person’s life?
Perhaps an inner glow betrays the truth;
Inspiration’s message for all to see.
One, with pounding heart, and thinking brain,
Bound within human form, arrives to shine
As example of how selflessness works;
Public inspiration for those less blessed.
Confusion/Fear
I woke today, success at last!
How long have I slept? Have I cast
Away dream for the sake of now?
May I return should this not bow
Before the needs of the many?
This word fetish which came along;
Does it pass in time or just prolong?
Daily Thought
Wonder,
Encompassing,
Worlds beyond, worlds within,
Never-ending parade streams through
A mind.
May 8, 2011 Prompt #2 “Rhythm of the Falling Rain”
Harbingers
Strands falling yellow-green,
Striping browns with golden sheen,
Brushing grounds dotted with gold
Clumped bouquets for child’s hold.
Rain’s dappled puddles hiss,
Display results of frog’s kiss,
Wriggling shadowed fat-tailed spawn,
Soon grow legs, jump dawn.
Peeking green blades sun bright
Announce a coming old sight,
Pansies, dogwood, and mushrooms
Summer’s insane rush looms
May 1, 2011 Prompt #1 “It Starts with a Seed”
Inspiration’s Seeds
Rolling stones must have
Glue to gather moss.
Nature provides targets
For lightning strikes to use.
Grass grows only when
Conditions are right.
Man sees a sure image,
And manufactures thought,
Creates ideas,
Plants those bright mental seeds,
As history lessons.
Prompt #44 Where the Rubber Meets the Road — February 26, 2012
Cold’s Grip
When cold began its takeover,
We’d begun a journey of months.
December’s cold laughed at our plans,
Sending Heaven’s waterfalls as our nemesis.
We could not hide from Cold’s torrents,
Or escape storms’ light shows above.
On coastline, in desert, along the plains,
Cold held us in it’s grip, refusing to let go.
Watery sun peeked out to give us hope
While gulls flocked to crumbs thrown aloft.
Soon temps would drop, calling Cold’s name.
Ice followed, groves hung with crop’s fruit,
Kissing profits goodbye for another year,
Pushing us north where we could rest,
In family comfort and warm loving hearts.
Cold had plans for us, plans for months.
Blizzard’s threats moved us further west,
Friends to protect us from Hell’s winter road,
Snow’s burial of cities, towns,and havens
Kept us static weeks longer than desired,
Before need drove us west yet again.
Five more states, three days, more friends,
A sanctuary of peace and solace
Wraps around us, holds us to its breast,
Insulates us when need grows heavy
Before releasing us to go home.
Prompt #47 Spring Ahead March 18, 2012
Last Stand
Winter stole in on a sigh again,
Flakes, massive and wet,
Filled sky and covered ground
Until… all was white and gloried.
Silence descended on my world,
Forcing ears to prick, eyes to squint,
Against the purity that Winter brought
To hide its withdrawal from our midst.
Others have blossoms of Spring’s joy
To liven their mornings, scent their days,
While rivulets of winter’s passing flow
Across our path into Spring’s arrival.
Winter’s last stand is melting now,
Disappearing from view, not memory.
Spring rains will veil his visit’s traces,
Promising better scenery to come.
A Rally Cry
Within the labyrinth of my mind
Resides potential for rising above average,
Potential to come again to a pinnacle of my own making.
Whether pinnacle or patio, words my vehicle,
Regardless of life’s path on which I travel forth.
Paths meander, dipping or rising to hilltops of majesty.
Wisps of previous glory ride my coattails,
Rallying mental troops to surge forward to bid new
Possibilities hello, taking no prisoners along the way to freedom.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
The above poem was written to Prompt: #50 “Comeback Poem.”
Written To In-Form Poet Week of April 9, 2012
Music’s Power
Strains, soft with whimsy,
Sliding behind closed eyelids,
Relax and write now.
Muse sends song’s delicate voice
To woo the vision within.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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“Playing Favorites Again” #54 May 9, 2012
Being There
When the mist rises from grass gone emerald,
And sultry echoes of former glories whisper,
I’ll remember these halcyon days of just being there.
When young ones play with their blankets heavy,
And breakfast smells more inviting than home,
I’ll remember that this was a gift, this being there.
And when these glorious days amid summer blossoms
Passes into the mists of memories fades as old wallpaper,
I’ll remember the gentleness of voices in the night,
And your presence each time I ventured into being there.
Poetic Bloomings Prompt 8-26-12 #70 asked “Did you have a pet name/nickname growing up?” Use that name as the title and write about it and that time in your life.
Identity
How do I speak
Of the names that
Defined me so long ago?
Claudie belonged to
Family in two states,
As if none other would do.
Sissy was reserved
For baby bro
To call me in need.
Sissy outgrew it
By age ten, then
Only Claudie remained.
So it was true
Forever within family,
One friend included.
Toward maturity’s days
Came Clauds and Claudsy
To many’s confusion.
Could it be
That my proper name
Cannot stick to me?
Or is it simply
That my given name
Has no hold on my
Identity, as it touches
Little of the self
That resides within?
Poetic Bloomings Prompt 8-19-12 #69 Write a poem about someone (not a family member) who is/had been a great influence in your life; how they affected you, what important lesson did they impart?
Mrs. Runyan
She came as part
And parcel of fourth grade,
A sturdy woman with
Hair of snow, cheeks red,
Eyes bright with mischief.
She read to us
To broaden our view
Of time and history
Within distances
Comprehensible.
Fridays existed only
For our performances
Before our peers
The better to learn
Self-confidence.
Justice trumped fairness;
Always with gentle care,
Always for learning’s sake,
Forever to teach honesty
Of goals and purpose.
She cared, this padded
Woman wearing her
Topknot and pearls;
She earned her respect
By doling out the same.
Poetic Bloomings 9-2-12 Prompt #71 Food for Thought—What is your favorite food? Comfort food? Last thing Mom ever made that you crave today, etc?
Wishing and A’hopin’
Aromas from Mom’s oven
Tantalized with a lifetime
Of Love’s expression.
Sweetness floated on atom
Wings to glide up nostrils
Attached to anticipation.
Eternity passed behind
Oven’s door, creating
Its own focused fascination,
While in fits and fidgets
I awaited the grand entrance
Of my Achievement Day’s
Perfect salutation presentation:
Mom’s family recipe of
Homemade Butterscotch Pie.
In-Form Poem Challenge 9-12-12
A Walk in Grace
Wander
Amid flowers
Chosen for embrace.
Look upon God’s magnificence
Within a petal’s dewdrop lit by sun’s
Wondrous warmth, beaming fantastic promise
For future’s once in a lifetime
Experience of life
Unfolding as you
Wander.
Poetic Bloomings 9-23-12 Prompt #74 Memoir: What is your obsession? What do you enjoy above all else?
Lessons
Are you kidding?
School’s out already?
If I could have just one more
Week of lessons, you see,
Earth’s secrets could be
Revealed to me, I’m sure.
If I could have just some more
Time to learn these new knots,
I could fashion such a lovely
Piece of art for living room’s wall,
And add knot twists to gifts
To nestle under December’s tree.
I know I can relearn this tatting
Thing that Grandma taught me
So many years ago, with needle,
Or maybe shuttle, to make laces
For those who care for such things,
Bringing aging lips smiles of remembrance.
There must be something small to
Tuck inside mental files for later use
On today’s journey to tomorrow;
That day, which always eludes me
Upon waking to realize even more remains
Behind to snag on my mind’s trolling hook.
Poetic Bloomings 10-7-12 Prompt #76 Write a poem about a family trip.
Dark Wanderings
It began innocently enough. Mammoth Cave was my first family adventure. We wound our way down slippery wooden steps, through scantily illuminated rock galleries. Damp cold chilled my shorts-clad legs. Girls of twelve tend toward personal considerations before others, and I was no exception. Yet the wonder of things witnessed that day amid the small crowd of thrill-seekers and awestruck seniors stayed with me. My rising need to explore hidden places held private meaning. From that day, I found my private spelunking challenges throughout high school. The parents had made the introductions. They knew the risks as I did but did not restrict the activity when I chose to seek out the dark places beneath rock faces and into hillsides.
One trip, one taste of depth
Within Earth’s recesses,
Color life’s pleasures.
In-Form Poem Challenge 10-9-12 Carpe Diem
Tomorrow
Tomorrow waits for no man
Since such has no existence.
All that is or could be
Exists within this breath,
Filling lungs with this moment’s
Air; air that did not exist in
A past already dead to now,
Nor to a future which can
Only be when it’s forced
Into a new moment by life’s
Passage through this exhalation.
All that we are or can be
Is defined in this one moment.
Poetic Bloomings 10-14-12 Poetry Memoir Project Part 12 Prompt #77 Did you have chores growing up? Did you the doing them? What’s a chore for you now? How has it prepared you for handling things now? Write about it.
Days on Needles and Pins
Breakfast! Eggs, toast, sausage—
Don’t forget Daddy’s lunch fixin’s!
Get brother ready for visiting.
Ah, where are we going to stay today,
And is it on the calendar?
Which neighbor do I get to help?
Will it be running bloated sheep,
Or laundry and lawn or
Maybe only canning or garden harvest?
Get clothes ready to wash tomorrow,
And don’t forget to straighten the house.
Please God, bring Mom home soon.
Make her well and let us have her back.
Poetic Bloomings 10-21-12 Prompt #78 Memoir Project Part 13: Write about your mother and your relationship with her.
Enigma
Those who knew her knew
Little of her heart or spirit.
She lived between our lives.
Afternoon naps, regardless of season,
Taught conservation of energy.
Woods lore taught nature’s
Need for man’s conservation.
Mother was many people.
Her art began with kitchen duties
Where dough could feast a king
And candies could grace a shop.
Her fingers and heart could heal
Children as easily as abandoned
Wildlife, all within her kitchen.
Tinsnips and aluminum cans
Declared a purpose for recycling
With tiny furniture vignettes she gifted.
Watching her paint brush flow across
Her china and color the evening,
And seeing how her fingers shaped clay
Into figures, taught the meaning of art.
Stern when necessary, smiling else,
Mom saw beauty in other’s trash,
Purpose in nature’s offerings,
And value in things from the past.
Quiet of spirit and long seeing,
She tutored by example, whether
With needle, herb, act, or word.
Poetic Bloomings Poetry Memoir Project Prompt #79 10-28-12—Tell us about a place where you spent time growing up—socializing, etc. Or even as an adult pre-facebook.
Decompressing
Twelve hour work day,
Six hours late dancing,
Begin again.
Friends said, “Come here,”
And we went to see,
Only to stay.
Better food than most,
Twenty-four hour breakfasts,
Conversation.
Soon, all regulars
Squeezed into booths
To laugh, learn, chill.
We became known to all,
Musketeers, booth hopping,
Breakfast swapping.
Their faces flash unasked
Onto mind’s theater screen,
Waiting review.
All young, all playing with life
Until adulthood required more,
Always with me.
11-4-12 Poetic Bloomings Memoir Project Prompt #80: What one event in your lifetime had a profound effect on your life?
Rather than a huge public event, a small private one can have such a profound effect on one’s life as to change forever the attitude one uses to face the world. Such is what I write about.
Observance and Charity
Thanksgiving, with its feast
And festivities, families and fun,
Instructed all passing through
Granny’s kitchen that no feast
Prepared itself, no magic was used
Except planning and hard work.
True lessons commenced when packed
Parcels of heavy meals came into young hands
For delivery to a neighboring household;
One whose holiday came from others
With enough to share on a cold day.
One plate for the old lady, bed-ridden;
One plate for the old man wheeling himself;
One plate for an addled oldster in back;
And another for the youngest brother;
The last went to the matriarch sleeping
With the living room’s finery completed
By a wood stove with fuel supply nearby.
Humility came with receipt of gratitude’s
Smiles and heartfelt thanks, never to be
Forgotten nor reduced in memory to petty.
Second poem for Profound Event Poem for PB 11-4-12 #80
Celestial Seasoning
The world changed when
animals circled the world in small rooms,
returning for retrieval and examination.
Horizons were removed, replaced
With sectors of space and new dreams.
Man must go next, they said,
Plans were ready, preparations made;
Special men could pull it off and show
Us ourselves from the void of space
Through windows frosted by suited breath.
Humans circled, then moved further out
To take a stroll on Luna’s surface of wispy
Dirt, fragmented rock from millions of years
And countless cosmic hits waiting for man’s
Footprints, a rigid flagpole, and a golf tee.
Ones lost to exploration’s demands became
Numbers on a stats sheet until Challenger
Showed the world risks forgotten with time
And reminded the complacent that knowledge
Carries heavy risk for those that point the way.
Time spun again and shuttle service was routine
Until Columbia streaked across a Southern sky
Leaving personal meteors behind, scattered in
Deserts on its way home while we watched its
Daytime fireworks show, wondering at the future.
Space stations rode orbits sci-fi writers predicted,
And accidents happened as skeptics always feared,
While school kids wrote essays and pen-pal letters
To astronauts and specialists who rode the big birds
To a place without air, to experiment with things unseen.
Our future was written in the stars and in Luna’s dirt,
A future no longer confined to Earth’s gravity or age.
11-18-12 Prompt #82–What was your personal happenstance that made an impact?
Running Dive
Trailing behind by thirty feet,
Watching footing among stream’s
Stones and fishes, reveling in
Summer’s afternoon’s delight,
Listening to Mom’s laughter,
Without cares or worries.
Brother runs ahead by fifty
Feet, against Mom’s orders,
Leaving all else for freedom’s
Sake of exploration,
Until one yelp, one splash
Draws lines of panic for all.
Orders ring out—
“Claudie get him, he’ll drown.”
No questions, no hesitation,
Running for distance, footing
Secure and sure, seeing one
Hand raised above surface.
No thoughts for glasses,
No thoughts of failure,
Only target, distance, time,
And prayer for strength,
To arrive in time, to catch a hand,
To bring brother up to breathe.
Third time hand rises, weak, pale,
Giving me last chance to win
This race for life’s renewal;
Diving quickens pace, lucky grab
Only to be held down by child’s
Panicked strength before closure.
Spin him, my feet to his back
And kick, hard, toward shallow
Waters where stone bottom meets
Small feet, giving weary purchase
For one spent by life struggle
To gain hope, surface, air.
Tears mingle with creek as
Parental examination
Seeks injury, relieving
Mind but not temper at
Disobedience and fright,
While rescuer stands and pants.
In retrospect, my later
Personal role in rescuing
Drowning people caused by
Silly choices, helped me
Perfect my technique in an
Effective running dive.
Poetic Memoir Project 11-25-12 Prompt #82 Write about your siblings.
Brother Mine
Totally unaware
He tried to kill me
After he turned three,
A TV villain
Showed him how;
A metal pistol grip
To the top of head
Produced concussion
In a moment’s heat,
Watching Lone Ranger fight.
Saving my life and limb
When he was five
Helped forgive innocent
Maiming act at three,
Sow was disappointed.
I turned the tables when
He turned ten and drowning
Seemed his future scheme,
Though words of appreciation
Never passed between us.
I took him to the movies
At his age twelve or thirteen,
When Valley of the Dolls
Came to town and middle
School doldrums ensued.
I stood proud to watch
Him grow into a man,
Take up family duties
Suffer health issues that
Could have killed another.
Drowning chances came again
And again I stepped in,
Young fathers shouldn’t swim
If their histories prove unsure
Of water’s reception of self.
Babies grow and mature,
Become adults with lives
Unique and valued,
Once irresponsible now
Taking responsibility for all.
He stayed behind in hometown
With cares for kids, grands, and
Dad, while I took another path
Farther away, more lone,
Still together in spirit,
Both Young.
The above poem is to prompt #83. Sorry about that.
A Ton of Hats
I was the black hat
To his Lone Ranger,
The puller of wagons
To his rider in style,
The runner to rescue
To his needing of rescue,
The one in need of a loan
To his full piggy bank,
The barefoot place kicker
To his running quarterback,
The hats shifted from
Time to time without
Thought of who wore what.
Our closets abound with brims,
Never far from our hands,
Having been broken in
At various stages of life,
Though never worn out,
Saving back for the next time.
Poetic Bloomings 12-12-12 Part 19 Memoir Poetry Project: Prompt—Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda—Write about a missed opportunity, an idea of yours never come to fruition, or one that did but for someone else, etc.
Making Life Happen
How odd that life
Has come so far
Without plan or
Long-term goals;
How odd that I
Sit here writing words
For purposes of
Looking for regrets,
When for so long
I worked to remove
Them from future life;
How odd that in
Looking back I can
See only forward to
The knowledge that
I am who I made
Myself to be within
A future I designed,
And to regret steps
Taken or missed mars
The one I am or could be.
PB Prompt #85 Part 20 Poetry Memoir Project–Famous Last Words—Do you have a favorite phrase or saying that you use regularly? Use it as your title/write about it. Maybe something your parents used to say. Or not—if you don’t have one, write an “In My Own Defense” poem about anything you wish to clarify about your life.
My Friend
Time’s mist fuddles origins.
My catch phrase came from
Another poet… that I know.
One poet on a new site
Titled me as such long ago.
I liked the sound and purpose
Of those two simple words—
My friend–as in, you can be.
If I’m not wrong, that was Marie,
Who threw out that first lifeline
And drew me in to say hello
Onto the crowded forum stage.
It took time to form the habit
Of seeing others only as friends,
As yet unknown, to welcome
And bring home for a chat.
Hard habits to break, my friend
Gets referenced within comments
Ether-wide, not by name, but function.
12-16-12 Prompt #86 Use a seasonal song title or lyrics for title to your poem and craft a new poem.
As you all know, I tend to get carried away sometimes. Today was no exception to that rule. I found myself creating a cento. I don’t do these often and I modified the rules a bit to allow me to add original lines, but somehow it seemed appropriate for this one. I hope you enjoy it. Here goes:
A Christmas Song
Someday soon, when we least expect it,
We all will be together, if the fates allow;
Season’s secrets will find release from
Cages of time wrapped ‘round them.
We’ll see the stars brightly shining,
We’ll have chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
And a turkey and some mistletoe.
All the stockings will be hung by the chimney with care;
Each of us will begin with “All I want for Christmas,”
Frosty the Snowman will tip his hat to us
As we go a caroling, spreading cheer to all,
Frosted window panes, candles gleaming inside
Silver bells and sleighs everywhere.
Just hear those sleigh bells jingling.
Let them ring, let them ring!
Although it’s been said many times many ways,
Wish a wish or two and I promise you
Christmas wishes do come true.
Titles or lyrics taken from:
“Christmas Time”
“Take Me Home for Christmas”
“Sleigh Ride”
“The Christmas Waltz”
“The Christmas Song”
“’Twas the Night Before Christmas”
“Oh Holy Night”
“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Now”
Poetic Bloomings 12-30-12 Prompt #88—Poetic Resoluation
Devolving/Resolving
Stop! Look back;
Do you see it?
Evolution reversed
As self-promises
Lay crumpled,
Intentions withered.
Resolve once more
To do Whatever.
Promise again
With good intents,
Mark calendars,
Make growing lists.
Keep checking them
Off as completion’s
Goal passes without
Fruition and sigh
For what you didn‘t do.
Resolution’s dust
Swept under tomorrow’s
Rug to lay unclaimed—
AGAIN.
Poetic Bloomings In-Form Poet Wednesay—Questionku
Created by Richard Lamoureux—poem of three lines
1st line: 4 syllables
2nd line: 5 syllables
3rd line: 6 syllable question
Life
Time rolls forward
Taking life with it.
Does time deem life good?
Seasons
Spring blossoms fade
Into fruits galore.
Does fortune smile on fruits?
Causation
Without love’s kindness,
Life would shrivel–gone.
Does kindness keep one alive?
Poetic Bloomings 1-6-13 Prompt #89—Use the following words in your poem BUT none of these words must appear—Synonym time has arrived.
Challenge, common, mask, skill, origin, love, night, drink, beauty, death
La Muerte
Along life’s path
Gauntlets are flung
At our feet, picked up
At our will with communal
Knowledge of possible outcomes.
We look for the exquisite,
A thirst-quenching sip
For parched souls.
Behind facades peered,
Seeking the source of all our needs
Satisfied by momentary passion,
And in a moment’s flushed heat
We cry out well-versed lines
To someone within range who
Might remember us long
After la muerte visits.
PB Prompt #91 1-20-13 “It’s Alive” Choose an inanimate object and personify it; make it live.
Just Call Me “Hang”
Look, I know you
don’t like me or my
habits, but it’s just
how I’m made.
I was part of you
not long ago and
still can be found
around your edges.
You don’t have to cut
me from your life so
quickly, so happily.
I can’t help how I
latch onto things
and make you angry.
I know your temper
flares when my full
name is used in that tone.
‘Hang Nail,’ again!
In-Form Poet Prompt 1-23-13 Write a Tyburn poem.
Olden Days
Obscene,
Cuisine,
Serene,
Sabine,
Taken by Rome, obscene cuisine lives
As thirsty men’s serene Sabine wives.
PB 1-27-13 Prompt #92 Gone to the Birds—choose a bird, wild or domestic and write a poem about it.
Keepers of the Law
For the First People, Crow guards Creator’s Sacred Law for all, bringing his reminders to those in need at times of crisis. So it was with Jim, Mother’s tame Crow that lived in our midst, laughing at his own jokes, entertaining us with antics of avian kind. Jim’s laughter rang out from roof’s peak, greeting visitors to our home, startling in its volume and staccato delivery. Who would expect such sardonic address to the simple act of opening a car door? Like any child too short to reach the doorknob, he knocked for entrance and waited to come in, ready with a tale from his daily wanderings. Acting as escort on berry-picking trips, he rode Mother’s shoulder, constantly scanning the skies and woods as her security detail, and always ready to act as food tester lest some berry be unsavory on the brambles. For all his hilarity, his adamant regard for tobacco found him destroying Mother’s chosen habit, pulling cigarette after cigarette from her pack, stomping, picking, and shredding until scattered fragments blew away on the breeze. His message, his condemnation, met with disregard. Is that why he chose to tease Dad’s bird dog and have his last laugh?
Mom missed Jim’s message,
Paid death’s price for ignoring
Crow, Sacred Law Keeper.
PB 1-27-13 Prompt #92 Gone to the Birds—choose a bird, wild or domestic and write a poem about it.
Peeper
Mom’s narrow shoulder
Supported his tiny talons,
Kept his shaking body
Inside jacket’s hood,
Allowing drying time,
Without risking sickening.
Peeper, Mom’s feathered
Baby with eyes huge, shocked,
Unknowing of his rescuer,
Huddled, shook, and warmed
By gentle human helping hand.
Fallen owlets fail often
And Peeper was not fledged,
But a fluff ball of down
And moaning peeps of hunger
Growing louder by the mile.
Held next to human heart’s beat,
Fed a raw meatball from bag
Warmed to temp and fed to
Gaping beak, he settled and slept,
Housed snugly in half-peck basket,
Months moved on with his growth,
Lessons in Hooting came in time,
Followed by flight and fight,
And taking prey from above,
All things owls needs to survive.
After release into adulthood
Peeper returned with mate
For Mother’s look-see approval,
Leaving no doubt to his health
Or continued well-being.
PB 1-30-13 Wednesday In-Form Poet Prompt: Write a Memento poem—about a holiday, anniversary, or like event. Consists of 2 6-line stanzas running 8,6,2,8,6,2 each with rhyme scheme of abcabc for both stanzas.
Down by the Seashore
Beaches washed with soft blue waters,
Skies screeching with sea birds;
Sunshine.
Never a comber who falters,
Even at sea’s foam curds,
Surf line.
Toes separated by warm sand
Squirm, feeling Earth’s wet breast
Beneath,
Wondering if ever my hand
could make a green wave-pressed
sea wreath.
PB 2-10-13 Prompt #94: What’s Your Sign—Zodiac, that is?
On the Cusp
Birthed of Earth, no longer virgin,
Upon green and golden savannahs,
Came King Leo, wrapped in his mantle
Of black and tan tresses to survey
His realm of vast undulating plains,
With chattel counted in the thousands,
Stalked and hunted as servile prey
By his queen, who flaunted her prowess
To her king, to provide his preferred meals
Placed before him beneath a shady acacia
In a cooler spot for his dining pleasure.
While the king dines in luxury and fame,
Earth provides his realm, his life, and his
Sustenance through a queen who can bring
Home whatever bacon runs past his throne.
2-13-13 Write a Ovillejo poem for In-Form Wednesday.
Pictures
From time’s massive camera
Come ephemera;
Photos shot in slow motion,
Leaving emotion
To run with tide’s lingering doubt,
Creating devout
Thoughts of time’s overall meaning
Within life’s framework built of clocks,
Daily acts made as building blocks
For a Heaven’s mansion devout.
2-20-13 Imagism for In-Form Poet Wednesday
Mountain Day
Warm breeze caresses
virgin pines that
whisper through
granite holes, which
whistle eerily to
red-shouldered hawk that
circles above peaks that
protects valley below, which
basks in brief sun’s light.
PB 2-14-13 Prompt #96—With a little help from our friends: Take a line from another’s poem at PB and use it in your new poem. Be inspired by it and write. Be sure to cite both the poet and poem from which the line came.
Sundays
Time was when Sundays were quiet,
Reflective days to examine one’s week
And make adjustment for the next;
Time was when Sundays meant worship,
Fellowship with like minds and potlucks;
Time was when all dreamed upon clouds,
When sky’s cotton balls held dragons and more;
“Daydream a little every day,” we were told;
“Slow down and drop out of the race,”
Which we did gladly, each in our own fashion.
Where have we hidden that wisdom that guided
Our lives before today’s complex new world?
Shall we have a scavenger hunt to see who finds
The keys to those locked rooms of childhood?
Today’s inspiration came from the wisdom of (1) Mike Grove in his poem entitled “Look to the Future” and (2) The Happy Amateur with her poem “Live for the Love of It.”
In-form Wednesday–Rubáyyát
Retreat
Cloud breezes carry your song
To fill my heart with such strong
Desires that secrets must be guarded
From prying eyes that would think them wrong.
Bird song pierces forest’s dark,
Strengthening my yearning, a stark
Reminder of how lonely life becomes
When I cannot hold onto your vivid life spark.
That I find life here with you bold
Speaks to those who look and scold
Me for taking myself from comforts new
To squirrel myself away in virgin forest’s gold.
Solitude within green hills console
My spirit, trade joy for works long toll,
Bending me, remolding me, refreshing me,
Withdrawing only at day’s end, leaving me whole.
Prompt #97 3-3-13 True Silence
Wild Places
Deep forest hollows
Where greens live beside browns,
Where humankind is absent,
Leaving the wild creatures
To teach importance;
This brings balance to mind.
Sitting on shore’s dune
Among grasses tested by sea winds,
With gulls daring albatross to
Bumble in landings comical,
While seaweeds scent air;
This brings scope to horizons.
Scaling mountainsides
Atop world’s rippled bedspread,
To view distances broad and
Alluring, pays for privileges
Taken at crystal streams;
This stretches one’s perspective.
Staring at sky’s night lights
On mental voyages of speculation,
Bringing silent self-knowledge
Of necessary paths yet to trod
On soul’s journey home;
This sweeps daily fog aside for clarity.
Wild things know purpose,
Without seeking explanations lair;
Their silence speaks of inner
Knowledge shared in wild
Places admitting seekers.
Prompt #98 Mean What You Say–Sort Of. 3-10-13
My words chosen:
Impair=Cleanse Chaste=Wanton Power=Surrender Angel=Devil
Skullduggery=honesty Problem=convenience Loudly=Subtlety
Transparent=cloudy Sober=loquacious Timidity=Valient
Paradox
Cloudy vision, a devil’s tool,
Asking honesty for reprieve;
A convenience leading to
Wanton surrender’s loquacious
Passage through nightitme’s valiant
Bid to cleanse one’s thoughts of growing
Awareness in life’s mock subtlety.
In-Form Poet Wednesday 3-13-13 Epulaeryu
Belgian Chocolate/Coconut Cheesecake (Epulaeryu)
Carried on a china plate,
Creamed Belgian delight,
Coconut hints woven through,
To texture smooth bites
Of luscious cheesecake.
Fanfare please—
Yay!
3-17-13 PB Prompt #99 Write a “Green” poem.
Éire (Haibun)
Who plucked a piece of Heaven to lie at mortals’ feet? Who coined the word “green” to describe its color and promise riches at rainbow’s end? Between the shores of this land rose song, lore, and verse to grace the world as a bracelet’s charm lest it ever forget those who dared bring forth such beauty. That race from Underhill who walked before men left behind their magic to snare the unwary, to brighten the lives of those dragged down by daily woes, and to promise always to remember that the magic of life comes with the sod.
Time peoples land’s home,
Delicate droplets of Grace,
Fall on Earth’s Heaven.
In-Form Poet Challenge 3-20-13 Kyrielle
Star Shine (Kyrielle)
They come upon a midnight clear
Stars in Heaven I hold dear,
A dark night’s final back-up clause,
Of sparkled light that gives me pause.
On moonless nights of dark declared
I stand naked beneath–soul bared;
The night now comes alive because
Of sparkled light that gives me pause.
My soul song lifts above land‘s scroll,
To swoop and soar, to be made whole
In night’s forests hear my applause
Of sparkled light that gives me pause.
They come upon a midnight clear,
Sparkles of light to give me pause.
Prompt #100 3-24-13 Write a Celebration poem in 10×10 form.
Independence Day
Upon evening’s twilight, my journey toward adulthood began in earnest;
Invited to accompany an older friend on a family outing
To celebrate the country’s birthday, complete with a firework’s display,
I departed, anxious in this new role as companion to
One lonely for friendship, for acceptance by peers without need
To explain whys and wherefores; this too, would be my
Independence Day. To attend a carnival without parental hand holding,
To experience a real rodeo and sit with experts to
Teach about sights, sounds, causes, realities that made up pageantry,
Finalized by fired waving flags, waterfalls, golden sparkled sky balls.
3-27-13 PB In-Form Wednesday—Line Message. In LINE MESSAGING poetry,
Watchers
Morning’s sunrise promise
Leads to whispered stories
To all who’ll listen at fires
Within each day’s shadows.
History’s stories loom, always
As shadow puppets on walls
Tantalizing children to
Watch those who have designs.
Night’s stealth slips through
Slumber’s many visions of
Day’s play, forever planning
On tomorrow’s future dreams.
Independent message::
Within each day’s shadows,
Watch those who have designs
On tomorrow’s future dreams.
3-31-13 Prompt #101 Easter Sunday–Writer an Easter poem. It can be Christian or secular, about rebirth, or coming back from a set-back, etc.
New World
A street ablaze
With anger, hatred,
Flows with intent
Based on fear of
Self-rebuke.
Amid shouting
Turmoil staggers a
Man, bent and torn,
Flogged by the day’s
Woes and struggles.
Time’s acceptance
Surrounds his mind,
Cushions his sense
Of purpose and life,
For the sake of all.
His road ends
At a pinnacle,
Where others wait;
His last words here
Echo down time.
Self-rebuke,
Woes and struggles
For the sake of all,
Echo down time.
Rejoice, cry legions
Of those working
Toward love’s peace;
Rejoice in having a
Voice of power to hear!
In-Form Poet 4-3-13 Write a Duo-Rhyme poem.
Upon a Water’s Day
Malachite green shows jumbled
Mountain bones long tumbled
From hillsides into rushing streams,
where liquid emerald water teems
with life, large or small, and gleams
In splendor’s magnified daydreams,
For those whom fortune humbled
Even as their hurried steps stumbled.
Prompt #102 4-7-13 Write an Ekphrastic poem to the image given.
A Moment’s Passing
It was his age, you see,
That day he celebrated;
He never saw it coming
Around that oak-lined bend,
Never imagined that time
Could stand still while life
Continued without breath,
Without rhyme or reason’s
Interference into his day;
He never before believed
That all that life contained
Could be held within lungs
Thirsting for air but unwilling
To capture, for taste’s sake,
A new breath to accompany
Uncounted memories flooding
Through a brain staggered by awe.
He never saw it coming that day
And he never had a chance to tell
The world how much he loved it.
4-14-13 Prompt #103–Write a rain poem.
The Rain Dance
Waves of heat rose from parched earth,
Shimmering, undulating with each breath
Of air’s movement, relentless throughout day’s
Light and moon’s dark.
In or out, children complained to mother, who
Tired and became cranky from listening to laments,
Until that day came at summer’s height to bring
Relief for all who had need.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared from skies
Leaden and looming, proclaimed Thor’s presence
And surcease for those who’d persevered through
Scorching weeks and melting reserve.
Storm hit with hammer blows of drops sized to
Hurt those beneath the rain of ice balls before
Its drenching reprieve pummeled grasses too
Brittle to withstand nourishment.
Ah, but children fear not droplets that wet
The skin and cool the blood, that puddles for
Splashing in grass and washes away discontent
As easily as soap does stains.
Joyous abandon, leaping to squeals, sound
Within torrents of liquid sunshine—a rain dance.
4-17-13 In-Form Wednesday–Write a pantun.
Sharing
Your presence moves along the length of me,
trailing shivers with your merest touch;
oh, that intimacy comes to this reverie,
as air’s chill lingers from blankets in your clutch.
Prompt #104 4-21-13 Write a poem that in Part 1 shows a childhood joy/activity, and in Part 2 examines your adult perspective on that activity and how your life was enhanced/changed because of it.
High Aspirations
“Stubborn” described me then,
Worn like honor’s badge all day
Riding my little pink bike,
No training wheels; falling off,
Getting up and starting again;
But high-wire work was mine,
Ankle hanging from swing-set’s
Top bar, doing pirouettes on high
While adults watched in horror.
All that training waiting for use
Toward something more important;
A life needful of high aspirations,
Needful of always gaining ground on
Challenges some saw as insurmountable;
Fears would come and do battle for life
Lived in joyous freedom from unwanted
Expectations, vanquished by stubbornness,
To allow adult pirouettes on life’s top bar.
4-24-13 In-Form Wednestday Prompt: Constanza
Perspectives
Nebulae coalesce, patterns
Emerge to remind with beauty,
Celestial creation’s movement.
Only telescopes see across
This plane of vacuum existence;
A dark sea flowing gasses, rock.
A void so vast that human minds
Can see it only in numbers;
Imagination rules the void.
Raw comprehension cannot bridge
Such distances or valuate
Uniqueness; not even our own.
We can never know if our place
Among the stars and galaxies
Appears as brightly shining blue,
Resting inside this Milky Way
As a bauble amid gas giants,
Signaling the universe as
Such a vibrantly patterned sight,
That Earth bursts from obscurity
To light space distant telescopes.
Since I did this form incorrectly the first time, I’ve corrected my rhyming oversight and created this version.
Perspectives
Nebulae coalesce, patterns
Emerge to remind with beauty,
Celestial creation’s duty.
Only telescopes see across
This plane of vaccum’s chilling shock;
A dark sea flowing gasses, rock.
A void so vast that human minds
Can see it only in numbers;
Imagination’s rule slumbers.
Raw comprehension cannot bridge
Such distances or valuate
Uniqueness; nor our human trait.
We can never know if our place
Among galaxies’ overview
Appears as brightly shining blue,
Resting inside this Milky Way
As a bauble less giant’s gas,
Signaling the universe as
Such a vibrantly patterned sight,
Earth bursts from other horoscopes
To light space distant telescopes.
4-28-13 Prompt #105 Ekphrastic poem
Remnants
Half an Easter eggshell,
Ju-ju bean left
Hiding under a leaf,
A tiny yellow bead
Fit for little girl’s gem;
Remnants of her
Passing this way on
Her path elsewhere,
Toting her Barbie
Overnight case and
Dora’s explorer jacket,
Making a matched set.
In-Form Wednesday prompt 5-1-13 Trois Par Huit
Darkness Waits
Lives take time,
No reason and no rhyme,
A series of photos mind-captured,
Telling of life’s venues, taken as we mature;
Some color, others not, held for review’s future,
Marking time in mind’s drawers with dates,
Slowing with aging’s states,
Darkness waits.
5-12-13 Prompt #107 What’s in a Name
Legacy Tuned Out
In the long ago
A teacher came
To educate Lug Tony;
Whose gay uncle touted
a coy legend, tutu in hand, but
a decent guy, lout not at all.
He put forth a challenge
The teacher could not refuse.
Uncle threw down a crimson velvet
gauntlet, coy due to teacher’s fine face;
acutely tongued, Uncle said he had
located Tune Guy, musical genius
extraordinaire, to create a legacy
duet unto the people of his land.
Palaces and castles ordered
The world and nobility ruled it.
Uncle wanted his nephew to learn
the dance lute, gouty though it might be;
this a judgment in ducal tongue,
yet teacher took time to press for
particulars on his new student’s problem
when the lad arrived caged, unduly toted.
Wild-eyed and slavering, barking as
Would hounds to the huntsman’s horn.
“Ah, reluctant to learn a skill.”
Tune Guy stepped forward, bowing
Before he explained the situation.
“We have his lute acutely tuned. Go
To him and begin quickly, that I
May begin my Lunacy Etude. Got
To have it completed before the
Festival in a fortnight’s time.”
“We wish it to be the people’s
Official Gale County Duet,”
Uncle burbled, his eyes gleaming.
“We were given one word by your
agent—dulcet. You may begin
To sooth this beast, give him
Lute skill and grace for all.
You have little time to spare.”
Teacher gulped chagrin like
Fine wine and looked at his
Unkempt, feral pupil and imaged
A most unkind fate to come;
Future’s portrayal would paint
His new cadet lute, young
Lug Tony, as providing
Teacher’s final musical work,
5-15-13 In-Form Wednesday–The Tableau
Grace of Form Tableau
Within one breath’s space,
Equine flyer soars
Over gates half its height,
Stretched in gleaming
Glory as rider
Seems to lift them both.
Upon a Wing Tableau
It rests, sloe wings spread
over leaf, its glowing
teal symbol flashing
its message for all
to take fragile peace,
share liberally.
Butterflies do sooth
cold hearts, pained psyches,
with delicate charm,
Indiscriminate
of those who share
peaceful beauty’s days.
Prompt #108 5-10-13 Write a “bad” poem.
It Stinks
Well, it does.
little thing can’t help it.
Its how it was made.
None can blame the
created for being brought
from the mold too soon.
It slides around, in search
of an appreciative pat,
only to find no hand raised
to lend it aid and comfort.
It can’t help itself or it’s odor;
its just a bad little poem.
In-Form Poet 5-22-13 Epithalamium
Casting Desires
Your day arrives with fanfare.
Excitement mounts, awaiting this
Ceremony bonding you each to the other.
Yet, this pomp is for show; the music
For others not standing by your side.
Your bonds began long ago within
Mind and spirit, and with God’s grace.
Each found themselves reflected within
The other’s vision of all things right
And proper in a life’s future made true.
Days beyond now have personal tales,
Made from desires cast on today’s breath,
Within you lies the power to create that
Which has never been, and that which can
Last for an eternity of tomorrows.
© Claudette J. Young
I’m back after a long hiatus with a poet from 2-2-14. Enjoy.
Poetic/Creative Bloomings 2-2-14 Prompt #140 “Bad to the Bones”
List 7 things that could happen to bad people. Us one for poem title and write. No need for judgment needed.
Soul Cycle
They called it art;
A circle of metal
Standing between roads
Moving in opposite directions.
They called it art;
Spikes, bars, darkness and light,
Flowing in circular movement
A never-ending dance in view.
They called it art;
Though few spoke of the
Smaller circles pierced by spikes,
Forever climbing toward the next.
They called it art;
Never knowing souls climbed there,
Ever-pursuing rungs not achieved
On roads moving in opposite directions.
Poetic Bloomings 2-9-14 Prompt #141 “In Tribute”
Mentor and Friend
She instructs gently,
Paring life to essence,
Stating truth humbly,
Never taking for granted.
She’s lived more than most
In less time than most,
Not by her design,
But by another’s.
Great teachers use examples
For lessons keen of need,
So it is with this desert
Flower, my friend, Meena Rose.
2-16-14 Prompt #142 “Take One Please”
Take one of the titles below and write to it.
Culture Shock
True Blue
Where Hope Finds Me
A Waltz of Words
Love Never Ceases
A Waltz of Words
Babble roamed ‘round
Dark space encasing me;
Through murmuring sound
None heard my whispered plea
For clarity profound,
Or silence’s gentle sea,
Where I’ve never drowned
But sought to be free.
Patience created a playground
Of letters fprming intricate filigree,
For climbing among words bound
In a sing-song waltz to be me.
Prompt #142 2-23-14 Personification—Use the voice of Personification to crete the title of a poem and write what it means to you.
She Broods
Lording it over
Those who’ve crowded
‘round her feet.
She hovers,
Ready to explode,
To lash out.
She threatens
Those who love her,
As if through hate.
She fumes,
Smoking, rumbling murmurs,
Ready to strike.
Always pretentious,
Vesuvius waits, Medusa
Looking to turn her lovers to stone.
Adding a few that I’ve neglected to bring over here. Enjoy.
PB 3-23-14 Prompt #147 “The Spectrum of Emotions” Combine colors and emotions to build your poems.
Confidence Breaker
Cold gray congeals
On spirit’s view,
Hovering, ready
To stoop on any
Thoughts of correctness
Or adequacy,
Ready to blacken any
Desires creeping to
Life’s front line.
Doubt, with its crippling
Wraiths circle the mind,
Leaping in, leaving behind
Shadowed blue or
Sullen red, creating
A maelstrom of swirling,
Muddying color to
Confuse and deepen
Doubt’s gray mist
Until it drowns its
Host in a fog.
PB Prompt #146 “Line Please” Use any/all of the following lines for title or lines in your poem.
“Evening is a shroud”
“Shared, but not divided”
“Over time and distane”
“Love lies buried”
“Where we always laugh and dream.
Eventide
When dusted stars glint upon velvet skies
And moon walks slowly along her nightly path,
I stand where we always laugh and dream,
Watching as night swallows day at the edge
Of our meadow, amid daisies and blankets,
Where our love lies buried, with earth shared
But not divided from us, rather our gift returned
Over time and distance while evening is a shroud.
We planted our love, deep within soil of our hearts
And now reap the flowers grown to scent life’s night.
“Evening is a shroud”
“Shared, but not divided”
“Over time and distance”
“Love lies buried”
“Where we always laugh and dream.”
Mind’s Eternity
Whispered love happens
Where we always
Laugh and dream,
Painting pictures
For tomorrow’s memories,
Shared when evening is
A shroud forever
Veiling our lives over
Time and distance,
Far from others’ eyes,
Knowing life and
Love lies buried
Within hearts close by.
Poetic—Creative—Bloomings March 2014
Prompt 145 3-9-14 “Nothing for Granted” Choose something others would consider insignificant and give it its due.
Perception
It takes up no space,
Yet creates it for us,
As we move from place to place,
Eager and most generous.
It allows us to reach,
Forward or back;
Whether on a sandy beach
Or along a mountain track.
Without it, our lives
Narrow, seize up;
Trades Sunday drives
For time with a teacup.
Fear erodes confidence
As depth fades away.
A Little Opposition
Bend it, make it
Do all those things
Required of it,
During your flings.
Keep it,
Whatever else you do,
Never let it
Come to harm or you’ll
Learn its
Loss will change your life
As its
Absence creates only strife.
Hold on tight
To your lowly thumb.
In Form Poets 3-12-14 Write a Palindrome—Words in lines reverse order after a central key
word.
Celestial Changes
Waves rolling,
and sand, parched
sun’s heat
only now
seen rarely,
lost
rarely seen
now, only
heat sun’s
parched sand and
rolling waves.
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