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Monday, November 26, 2012

A Broken Dreamcatcher

Doll by Emma Whitlock


Her dreamcatcher failed
And a nightmare slipped through,
One that ensnared her heart and soul,
Leaving her chasing the impossible
Until flesh was cleaved from bone,
The skeletal remains of her broken heart
Dangling in the breeze.

~~~ This poem was written for a photo prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Man in the Moon

Moon by Petr Kratochvil


I saw your face last night, 
Hiding in the shadows of the moon, 
Watching over me 
From the far off reaches 
Of the past, 
A secret presence offering 
Faint comfort to a wistful heart, 
And I can’t help but wonder 
If you've ever seen my face
Hiding in the shadows of the moon…


~~~ This poem was written for the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge Day 7 prompt, asking us to write a circular poem.

Life of Pi

Image from Wikimedia Commons


Life is a circle, 
The wheel of fortune
Spinning on and on,
Moving me 
A little further
Down my path.
I've spent years
Trying to measure
The distance across it,
Trying to see
Just how wide
I open I need to be
To wrap myself around it,
Finally realizing
The key to this cipher
Is to know my own value…
3.1415926535


~~~ This poem was written for a prompt from Poetry Jam that asked us to take the title of a book on one of the New York Times best sellers lists and write a poem for it.  The book I chose was “The Life of Pi” by Yann Martel, which is #3 on the Paperback Trade Fiction list this week. This was also for the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge day 19 prompt of writing a wheel poem.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Freak Show

Image from Wikimedia Commons


Ladies and gentlemen,
Boys and girls,
Children of all ages…
I invite you to step inside the Halls of Idiosyncrasy
To witness to this spectacle of the bizarre,
Deformities on public display for all to see.

First, witness the contortionist.
Watch as she manipulates
Her limbs into unnatural poses,
Far beyond the limitations
Normally required of human beings,
Shaping herself to the whims of those around her.

Here we see the sword swallower,
Ingesting every blade handed to her,
All those cutting words of sharpened steel,
Risking evisceration with every mouthful,
Her bleeding scars unseen by the outside world.

Next comes the bearded lady,
Genetics and hormones
Transforming this once-beautiful woman
Into a hirsute horror
Seeking to hide her shame
Behind scarves and veils.

Behold the snake charmer,
Whispering just the right words
To calm the wrath of the serpents
Who slither through deception
Then coil in defensive postures,
Ready to strike at any moment.

Finally we have the fire eater,
Consuming blazing words
That should never be left silent,
Determination scorched
In hopes of avoiding annihilation.

And what sets these oddities apart,
You may ask?

This display consists of only one performer…
Me.

Welcome to the freak show I call my life.


~~~ This was written for my prompt this week over at Poetry Jam about the circus.  This is also for the prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads asking us as poets to “break the fourth wall” of writing.

Soundtrack

© Kenia Cris


the soundtrack of my life
has switched keys,
transforming into
series of preludes
played through
old tinny speakers,
gentle waves of sound
that give no clue
to the insidious motives
of the band,
yet still I dance on...


~~~~ This poem was written for the Weekend Challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, giving us a choice of a form prompt or a photo prompt.  I chose a photograph by Kenia Cris, whose work can be found at her blog Poesia Torta.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Life as a Tree

Among the Tree by Jan Prikryl

Sinking roots into sacred ground,
My branches reaching toward the sky,
My duty I cannot defy.
I keep my watch without a sound.

The busy world goes rushing by
And never sees my leafy green.
Oblivious to nature’s scene,
They never stop to ponder why.

Through nature’s furies, I've survived,
The crashing lightning, raging fires,
But still, no matter what transpires
I’ll reemerge, refreshed, revived,

For nature always finds a way
To thrive against all likelihood.
I’ll make my stand in gnarled wood
And live to see a brighter day.


~~~ This poem was written for a prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads asking us to write about the temperate forest.


Saturday, November 10, 2012

A Season of Grief


Tree Silhouette by Peter Griffin


Her heart lies
Wounded and withering
From near fatal
Blows of mourning,
Languishing in darkness
For too many years,
Too many tears.
All seasons pass
With the turning
Of the calendar page,
But time crawls more slowly
With every loss,
Her hope dormant and waiting
For the next season to begin.

~~~ This was written for the Poetry Jam prompt of “endless seasons” or "change of season."

Friday, November 9, 2012

A Message from the Owner

Snow on Trees by David Wagner


I know you know I own this wood,
And yes, the view is awfully good
When snowflakes fall on wintry nights
On land where birches long have stood.

If you had only looked, you'd find
A wooden “No Trespassing” sign,
Hung in plain sight upon the fence
That serves as my dividing line.

From this day forth I would prefer
To keep my privacy secure,
So find another road to take,
But first, clean up your horse manure!


~~~  Written for the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge Day 8 prompt, asking us to pick a poem by a dead poet and write a response.  I chose to write to Robert Frost's poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," tongue very firmly in cheek of course.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Write, Not Right

Journal by Junior Libby

For more than a decade 
Pundits have spoken 
Of the great right wing conspiracy, 
Those evil capitalists 
Lurking in the shadows 
Seeking to seize power 
Regardless of the cost, 
Heartless bastards
Fueled by greed,
Willing to sacrifice
Anyone weaker
To better shape the world 
According to their insidious schemes. 

I speak of a different quest, 
My write wing conspiracy:
A mission to illustrate my vision 
Of triumph and disappointment 
Both at a personal level 
And also on a grander scale.  
Words hold power, 
And one poem at a time 
Every poet possesses
The power
To change the world.


~~~ This poem was inspired by the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge Day 6 prompt, asking us to pen either a left poem or a right poem.



Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Three Minute Wait

Image from Wikimedia Commons


Three minutes can become an agonizing eternity 
Alone in the bathroom at 4 A.M.  
I hold that white plastic stick like a talisman, 
Praying that the tiny spark of hope 
That always resurfaces at times like this 
Would not be extinguished once again
With tears of disappointment. 
After years of dealing with a malfunctioning body 
Flooded with deceitful hormones, 
I understood that crushing emotion all too well. 
I’m afraid to breathe, 
Fighting back another wave of nausea, 
Wondering if this could just be anxiety,
Maybe a touch of the flu, 
Or perhaps something more…
My hands shake as the timer rings 
And I glance down at the indicator, 
Terrified of what I'll find.  
In that moment, 
Two pink lines showed me 
That miracles can happen, 
Even to someone like me.


~~~ This poem was written for the latest prompt from Poetic Bloomings in their poetic memoir series, asking us to write about a moment that changed our lives.  The moment that I found out I was pregnant with my daughter Emily certainly qualifies.

I was diagnosed several years with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS.)  PCOS is a hormone disorder that affects an estimated 6-10% of all women.  Besides causing infertility in women, PCOS can also cause other symptoms including high blood pressure, insulin resistance leading to diabetes,  abnormal hair growth patterns, and obesity.  PCOS is treatable with medications, diet, and exercise, but there is no cure.  You can find more information about PCOS here.
Emmy at 2 months
Emmy age 11
  



On Election Results, 2012

The Gadsden Flag.  Image from Wikimedia Commons


When political charlatans
Divide and deceive the voters,
We all lose.


~~~ This poem was written both for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads prompt of telling who won the election in 20 words or less and the Poetic Bloomings form prompt of writing a lune.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Path to Peace

Peace by Sabine Sauermaul

Our human hearts long for peace
Yet too many cower in the face of danger,
Afraid to stand together
With the courageous conviction needed
To make peace a viable possibility.

Peace comes from strength.
The bullies and tyrants of the world 
Have no power if they have no prey;
They feed on the weakness and fear 
Of those who would acquiesce rather than fight.  
The path to peace cannot be found
In a tempest of politically correct pacifism 
That only serves to sacrifice our beliefs 
At the altar of the politically correct. 
Peace is truly the ultimate goal, 
A laudable aspiration
For any freedom-loving people,
One that we must be willing to
Work for,
Fight for,
And, if necessary,
Die for.


~~~~  This poem was written for a prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads asking us to write about peace.

Just Beneath Her Surface

Girl Behind the Mask by Junior Libby

Just beneath her surface
Discontent simmers,
The secret sorrow
That fuels hidden tears
For her sacrificed dreams,
All hidden
By her delusive smile.


~~~~ This was written for the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge Day 4 prompt, which directed us to make the title of our poem “Just Beneath (blank.)”


Never Alone

Monster by Francisco Farias Jr.

In this realm
Of unnatural darkness,
Caution is demanded.
I know I am not alone.
I hear footsteps,
Perhaps a spectral silhouette
Wandering
In search of retribution
For the sins of the past,
Unseen voices
Swirling around me
In guttural whispers,
The frigid breath
Of undetected demons
Chilling my bones.
I see eyes glowing
In the pitch black,
Always watching me,
A solitary soul
Caught in evil’s sight.


~~~ This poem was written for the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge Day 3 prompt of “Write a poem that scares you.”

Friday, November 2, 2012

My Choice



The opportunity has always been there,
Tantalizingly close to my fingertips. 
The time has come 
To climb the ladder  
And grasp my guiding star.
I have the ability to choose my direction,
To make a course correction if necessary, 
And I choose to move on.

I will never be content 
To live in the shadows of life. 
I want my opportunity to blossom, 
To stand in the sun and have my day, 
To seek the applause 
I so desperately want to hear,
If only for just one moment.  
I am tired of suffering in silence. 
Let me sing once again with the breaking morn.  
I cannot continue the way things have been.  
I know that staying the course 
Is a sure path to suicide 
And I will not surrender anymore.
I will not cede my power 
To some bullying tyrant 
Holding me hostage in my own life.

This is my life.
This is my choice.

I choose me.



~~~ This poem was written in response to a prompt from Poetry Jam asking us to write about choices.

Walking with Ghosts

Haunted Graveyard 1 by Junior Libby


I walk with ghosts,
The last traces of those who came before.
They float past me like forsaken servants
Of diminished usefulness,
Watching my dreams and aspirations
Dance in the fire.
I plead to Mother Earth
To hear my cries and release me
From the chains in my life.
I see the power in the flames,
The same power that lies
Dormant in myself,
Awaiting permission
To manifest into my world.
These ghosts guide me
Through spectral whispers,
Teaching me that life and death
Are much the same;
The only difference lies
In the ability of others
To see where our walk is leading.


~~~~ This poem was written for a prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads asking us to write a ghost poem that incorporated a line from another poem about ghosts.  I chose a line from Anne Sexton’s “Ghosts.”

Thursday, November 1, 2012

The Rogue Gods of Domestic Chaos

Socks by Peter Griffin


They send forth their minions
Who invade under the cover of the spin cycle,
Stealing socks and spiriting them away
Into the nether regions of the laundry,
Transforming cotton-woolen blends
Into wire coat hangers,
Those distorted instruments bent
On staging a clothing coup
And seizing control of our closets,
Leaving a path of disarray
Through our carefully constructed household bliss.

And that’s why you don't have any matched socks, dear.


~~~~ This poem was written for the Poetic Asides Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge Day 1 prompt of writing a matches poem.