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: (Claudsy’s Calliope) (Trailing Inspirations) (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.

73 thoughts on “CLAUDETTE J. YOUNG

  1. 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.


  2. 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.

  3. 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

    Worlds beyond, worlds within,
    Never-ending parade streams through
    A mind.

  4. May 8, 2011 Prompt #2 “Rhythm of the Falling Rain”


    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

  5. 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.

  6. 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.

    • 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.

  7. 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

  8. 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


  10. “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.

  11. 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.


    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?

  12. 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

    Fridays existed only
    For our performances
    Before our peers
    The better to learn

    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.

  13. 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.

  14. In-Form Poem Challenge 9-12-12

    A Walk in Grace

    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

  15. Poetic Bloomings 9-23-12 Prompt #74 Memoir: What is your obsession? What do you enjoy above all else?


    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.

  16. 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.

  17. In-Form Poem Challenge 10-9-12 Carpe Diem


    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.

  18. 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.

  19. Poetic Bloomings 10-21-12 Prompt #78 Memoir Project Part 13: Write about your mother and your relationship with her.


    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.

  20. 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.


    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,

    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.

  21. 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.

  22. 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.

  23. 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.

  24. 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.

  25. 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.

  26. 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.

  27. 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.

    • 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”

  28. Poetic Bloomings 12-30-12 Prompt #88—Poetic Resoluation


    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—


  29. 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


    Time rolls forward
    Taking life with it.
    Does time deem life good?


    Spring blossoms fade
    Into fruits galore.
    Does fortune smile on fruits?


    Without love’s kindness,
    Life would shrivel–gone.
    Does kindness keep one alive?

  30. 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.

  31. 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!

  32. In-Form Poet Prompt 1-23-13 Write a Tyburn poem.

    Olden Days

    Taken by Rome, obscene cuisine lives
    As thirsty men’s serene Sabine wives.

  33. 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.

  34. PB 1-27-13 Prompt #92 Gone to the Birds—choose a bird, wild or domestic and write a poem about it.


    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.

  35. 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;
    Never a comber who falters,
    Even at sea’s foam curds,
    Surf line.

    Toes separated by warm sand
    Squirm, feeling Earth’s wet breast
    Wondering if ever my hand
    could make a green wave-pressed
    sea wreath.

  36. 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.

  37. 2-13-13 Write a Ovillejo poem for In-Form Wednesday.


    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.

  38. 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.

  39. 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.


    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.”

  40. In-form Wednesday–Rubáyyát


    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.

  41. 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.

  42. 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


    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.

  43. 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—

  44. 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.

  45. 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.

  46. 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.

  47. 3-27-13 PB In-Form Wednesday—Line Message. In LINE MESSAGING poetry,


    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.

  48. 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

    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.

    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!

  49. 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.

  50. 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.

  51. 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.

  52. 4-17-13 In-Form Wednesday–Write a pantun.


    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.

  53. 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.

  54. 4-24-13 In-Form Wednestday Prompt: Constanza


    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.


      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.

  55. 4-28-13 Prompt #105 Ekphrastic poem


    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.

  56. 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.

  57. 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,

  58. 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,
    of those who share
    peaceful beauty’s days.

  59. 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.

  60. 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

  61. 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.

  62. 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.

  63. 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.

  64. 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.

  65. 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.

    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.


    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

    Celestial Changes

    Waves rolling,
    and sand, parched
    sun’s heat
    only now
    seen rarely,
    rarely seen
    now, only
    heat sun’s
    parched sand and
    rolling waves.

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