Poetic Prompts and Challenges



Current Poetic Prompt

Poetic Prompt # 33 
Write a poem about one or all of the four seasons. (Some ideas for brainstorming: What does the season look, feel, smell like? What memories do you associate with that season?)

List of Poems Received
-  Fall    By John D. Call

- Approaching Fall   
  By John D. Call

-  Winter's Follies
    By Roland Ruiz

Yearly Love Affair    By James Kenneth Blaylock

-   Fall    By Glenn Currier







Below: poems in response to the current poetic prompt / challenge

By John D. Call

waters fall
leaves fall
in the fall
I fall
in love with
fall –

“Fall,” Copyright © 2017 by John D. Call

Approaching Fall
(for my wife, whose favorite season is fall)
By John D. Call

Approach fall with great calm and care,
for here she is fragile and skittish
and prone to back away into deep November
if we seem too anxious for her arrival.

Instead, pretend not to notice
the fresh, cool mornings and evenings –
the first need of a jacket,
or the grass slowing its growing,
or that smell of burning firewood
coming from neighbors’ chimneys.

Each day move a little closer,
and perhaps offer her a fallen leaf,
or a twig from last spring’s nest or flower bed,
or a piece of straw or pumpkin bread.
Let her know you are versed in autumn things;
like attracts like, it is said.

And when you have moved quite near,
Whisper softly in her ear,
“Come stay a while with me;
let each to the other be true.
And if perchance you cannot stay,
then let me go away with you.”

"Approaching Fall," Copyright © 2010 by John D. Call

Winter’s Follies
By Roland Ruiz

Within the valley of a mountain shade
It seems the stings of winter begins to fade
Felt within the howling winds that flow
A change of season will soon bestow

For this cold has been a terrible blow
One to remember one to sow
Records broken in many cases
Implanting memories in far away places

But off in the distance spring can be heard
Like the soar of a Eagle attacking winter with a surge
Bringing relief from the path of the frigid North air
Allowing the trees to sprout binding the birds to pair

Even the gales from the South wind complies
Permitting God’s grace to renew it cries
As the earth adjusts to the warming air
Enticing new growth soon will appear

Flooding the landscape with a array of color
Making one jump with joy, changing our pallor
Emerging warmth will caress our bodies
Purging the details of a winter’s follies

The seasonal change which comes our way
Brings forth the rebirth in this yearly fray
From winter to spring can at times be framed
Cementing an environment uncut and untamed

Editor's Note:  This poem is submitted as a response to Poetic Prompt # 32

"Winter's Follies," Copyright © 2017 by: Roland R. Ruiz
Written February 18, 2011


Yearly Love Affair
By James Kenneth Blaylock

Fall, I'm always falling for you, it's
a yearly love affair that's got me
forever wishing to see your beauty

I'm transfixed, with engaging thoughts
of whispering into your easy breezy ears
"don't leave me, yet again, sweetness...."

"Yearly Love Affair," Copyright © 2017 by James Kenneth Blaylock
Written 10-26-17

By Glenn Currier

The morning sun kisses the pecan tree
and its quivering shimmering mantle of gold,
outside it’s cooling but not yet cold
the air is poised for a new season -
hanging like a mystery just out of reach.

How precious this moment of being
an earthling
in this terrestrial gem -
ever-changing, always creating a new home
for the creatures in its embrace.

Fall! what a name for this season.
Yet the full fruits of its lessons
defy the confines of language:

An aging woman takes a tragic fall
drapes the sidewalk in painful sprawl
breaking bones but not her resolve
to stand again with pride, head held high.

The rugged-faced man hears the bottle’s call
the bottle: full of promise to ease the pain
but empty of joy in the fall.

We blame Adam and Eve for their pride
and the shame they shed
on their species one and all
the pain of separation from God
yet look at each of our daily falls.

So here we are in autumn
and its million transitions
leaves floating like golden snow.
What a dazzling colorful show
a diaphanous symphony of letting go
notes falling seemingly without reason -
is this the last performance of the final season
and do I hear the distant yearning call
of freedom
beyond this fall?

“Fall,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier

Into the unknown

Editor's Note: I thank my good friend Garth "Mindfeather" HIll for the above image. I highly recommend your visiting his Flickr pages:   https://www.flickr.com/photos/mindfeather/ In the last many years, Garth turned his immense artistic talent from poetry to photography and image development.  Any one of his images could be an inspiration for a poem.

Poetic Prompt # 32  Write a poem responding to the image above (use the title of the image as a prompt if you wish - it's up to you...)

List of Poems Received
-  Walking in the Light   by John D. Call

-  Into the Unknown   By Glenn Currier

-  A Dream Received   By John D. Call
Your Shadow   by Shirley Hammond
-  Empty Pawn   by Roland R. Ruiz


Walking in the Light
By John D. Call

walking in the light
between two darknesses
and in the light
the stalking shadow —

“walking in the light…” Copyright © 2017 by John D. Call

Into the Unknown
By Glenn Currier

The doc says Phil needs bypass work real soon
his heart is pumping badly and in stress
his arteries and veins are not in tune
his fear has spiked his life seems in a mess.

The bride still wonders if this guy is right
she’s seen his moods go dark and sour
she listened to his poems of love and light
and seen him laugh and play with kids for hours.

Yes Raymond dreamed of serving as a cop
he helped the frantic mother to give birth
busted dealers brought the vandal to a stop
but saw the cruelest wicked and the worst.

When first we rise into the breaking dawn
we know not what or where the day will go
what challenge waits what pain the day will spawn
but worry fear and fretting just bring us low.

The unknown calls us past our faults and shame
it pulls us forward to become our best
the unknown beckons calling us by name
to make the future sing to make it blessed.

A Dream Received
By John D. Call

In a deep and familiar wood,
Light and darkness adjacent stood.
The light lent the darkness no glow or spark,
Rather by contrast only deepened the dark.
And I from the latter into the brightness gazed,
Not in fear yet perplexed and amazed.
Though a strange eeriness saturated this night,
There seemed no question of wrong or right,
Nor any judgment of bad or good;
Only light and darkness that adjacent stood.

“A Dream Received,” Copyright© 2000 by John D. Call


Your Shadow
By Shirley Hammond

Never be afraid of your shadow
Whether you face it, or it's behind your back It's always going to mimic you When you act, it will react

It can never make its own moves
Whatever your color, it shows up black
Short in the noonday, with the sun over top Long as the sun dips in the sky

Children don't love them
They just can not grasp
Shadows aren't monsters
And Shadows don't last

"Your Shadow," Copyright © 2017 by Shirley Hammond
Posted 9-29-17

Empty Pawn
By Roland Ruiz
Audio Recording of Roland reading his poem:  MP3   WMA

Dedicated: To all who suffer from this dreaded disease
Known as Alzheimer, which robs one’s mentality
Taking away the very essence of our memory
May God grant with knowledge those who
Seek the cure for this terrible malady
Bringing peace to those who witness the
Vanishing of a love one’s dignity

What lies between the breezes amid the fabric of life’s streams
A rainbow unbeknown to those who shy away from dreams
Guiding one to saunter amidst the dew of the morning dawn
In mournful moods I clamor for I’ve become an empty pawn

I tread upon this emptiness without a goal to call my own
Seeking that certain feeling which will set a binding tone
Releasing the many memories which seem to gone astray
For I am aging with forgetfulness my mind begins to stray

From a dreaded disease called Alzheimer, I fear I will succumb
To a sensation of not knowing, my brain churning to bits of crumbs
Giving time to realize what soon will be my fate
I turn to my companion who has been my trusting mate

Caressing with tenderness I take you in my arms
Whispering sweet nothing using all my manly charms
Kissing your moisten lips letting you know how much I’ve cared
To calm what you must feel from all the years we’ve shared

With our house in order, we will pray what days remain
Be filled with loving kindness that will rid us of the pain
From a terrible malady which robs one’s mentality
Recalling all we ever done, will soon be your reality

So know my darling dearest I’ll soon walk all alone
With only fading recollections of this loving home
Take care and do not fear, for God will guide my heart
Towards a beacon of lasting light, which takes away the dark?

"Empty Pawn," Copyright © 2017 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written September 15, 2011

[Please submit your poem to be posted here by either emailinb it to me or submitting it via the Poem Submission Form.] - Glenn Currier, Editor / Owner





































































Poetic Prompt # 31: Write a poem on the theme of "letting go." 

List of Poems Received and posted below
- LET IT GO,, LET IT GO!   By David B. Bates
- An Empty Quest
by Roland R. Ruiz
- Bow Out   
By LaTanya Michael
- This Longing
  By Roland R. Ruiz
- Siphoning of the Leeches
By James Kenneth Blaylock
- Letting Go     
By John D. Call
- Letting Go    
By Glenn Currier

By David B. Bates

So yer tail is in a knot.
No idea where yer goin'.
'Cause you really don't give a squat!
Which way that life is flowin'.
Let it go!

Been this way a time or two?
Wanderin' down life's trail?
What, oh what am I gonna do?
Big success or doomed to fail?
Let it go!

Grab it tight! Hold on fellow!
The downpour won't last long.
Open up yer umbrella!
Come on strong!
Let it go!

Life always has it's ups 'n downs.
Careful, which way ya pick.
Show big smiles, lose the frowns.
Ya don't have to "be up the crick".
Let it go!

See how things improve
When finally, ya let things go.
Life, at last, is "in the groove"!
Sure looks like "Quid pro quo"!
Really great... to let things go!

"LET IT GO, LET IT GO!"  Copyright © 2017 by David B. Bates

An Empty Quest
By Roland R. Ruiz
Audio Recording of this poem by Roland    MP3  WMA

Dedicated: Those who seek a fullness
To one’s soul with the understanding that
Life can be cruel at times when searching
For remedies to quell an emptiness residing
Between the shadows of our hearts

Within the valley of our soul
Screams dreams alluding loneliness
Seeking a warmth to quell the cold
We stroll the avenues of an empty quest

We seek the shelter known as love
To calm the restlessness of a broken heart
In this rush we push we shove
Towards a destiny so bleak and stark

Between the sorrows of our guilt
Hides the memories of our shame
Unnourished of love they tend to wilt
We stutter in silence in offering blame

It’s hard to forget the times shared as one
Amid the tears we giggled with laughter
Creating a daughter along with a son
Not knowing the years would bring disaster

So know we’ll go our separate way
Regrets are lost as we build anew
For life is short no time to stray
Changes will come in the winds that brew

It’s best at times to take command
A rendering of peace as we depart
Decisions decided no longer demand
As we set sails to a new course we’ll chart

"An Empty Quest," Copyright © 2017 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written September 10, 2017

Bow Out
By LaTanya Michael

The scene was set
We said our lines
Wrote our stories
Took our place in time

The message sent
We didn't miss a beat
Time to pass the torch
None lost, no defeat

Simple, quiet- for just a second
Minutes passing
Audience in question
Time not wasted, this moment -a blessing

Farewell noted
Take care my dear friend
Lamentations dry
I bow out to you...

Farewell to Poets in Progress?
By James Brown

I’d miss you guys of wit and pen,
Whose verse, like mine, oft do us in.
Yet, gentle souls we maybe are,
Our words of life might carry far.

A simple rhyme sometimes is more
Than caustic speech we all abhor.
A noble craft we hearken to,
My time too short with all of you.

But, yet, so many read our verse,
While TV words are somewhat terse,
Our skill is one we dare not lose,
With none that’s left but other’s views.

Your poems thoughtful Christmas Gift,
Might give a very needed lift,
A troubled friend you never knew,
Was saved when he or she was through.

Editor's Note: This poem was written by James when he heard that I was considering letting the hosting of this website lapse due to lack of interest.  His poem encourages me to continue the site.  Thanks James.

Image: Surf with lovers

This Longing
By Roland R. Ruiz
Audio: Roland reading his poem MP3

Author’s Note:
The poem “This Longing” came about after my intestinal surgery in mid-2015, in which I almost died, I spent 8 hours in the operating room.  After finding out from my doctor along with my wife how close I came to losing my life these thoughts came to me, thinking the time was right for me to share my feelings in hope others who have lost their beloved will take solace in the words I’ve shared.  Thanks………puddles1947………..

Dedicated: Those who have lost the
Love of their life and try to cope
With feelings of loneliness
Which causes a heart to pine
For the sacred memories lost
But not forgotten

An urge I have not had before
Has settled upon my soul
A sadness deep in my inner core
Brings feelings somber and cold

Since your demise I'm not the same
Without your love there is no hope
My heart remains in constant pain
This longing I'm unable to cope

But in the middle of the night
I hear the whisper of your thoughts
In dreams which say all is right
They sing such beauty dearly sought

From visions stored so lovely cherished
What breathless time we enjoyed as one
The glow of your smile was always the fairest
Sweet images to keep and never shun

Calms the restlessness within my soul
Resolves the fears enlacing the heart
Ignites an ember that's no longer cold
Conveys a feeling of not being apart

Which gives me strength to face the day
A way for me to forget this surge
For the hurt and pain I hold at bay
Gives solace for the day we'll merge

For now I will accept this fate
Until the day when we shall meet
Embracing each other at heaven's gate
Enjoying the manna of his heavenly feast

"This Longing," Copyright © 2017 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written August 23, 2015

Siphoning of the Leeches
By James Kenneth Blaylock

yesterday was congested with what
seemed all of life's many necessities

it appeared time was not of the fleeting kind, at the moment, as we were so easily amused

entertainers knew how to get us, to engross and titillate, with mass amounts of celluloid

but sooner or later age kicked in and we had to whittle those things away like rotten wood

now we can see the son more gloriously without all the siphoning of the leeches...

"Siphoning of the Leeches," Copyright © 2017 by James Kenneth Blaylock

Letting Go
By John D. Call

I turned onto the street
where my childhood home still stands
among the ghosts of long dead neighbors.

“Strangely familiar,” I say,
within a sudden rush
of memories.

It’s like a dream,
when you know what you’re looking at
even though it’s not at all the same –
my home most of all.

The two live oak trees in the front
that once framed the steps and porch
now almost totally obscure them.
The house seems to hunker down behind them,
as if somehow ashamed of the differences
that fifty years has made.

The nearby houses
that once oriented me in space and time
in my neighborhood – (the Meyers lived down the street
and the Ross’s next door, etc.)
now seem somehow reconfigured
and somewhat smaller that they used to be.

Then with a great sweep of sadness
I hear my voice say,
“This is not my home!”
It was as if I was returning
something borrowed from the universe –
a place – a time,
and, yes, for a while, years ago,
a home –

Editor's Comment on this poem
To be able to anchor readers in their spiridt and to transport their imagination to another place and time is one of the gifts of a brilliant poet and good poetry.  That is what happened to me as I read this fine piece.  Thank you John.    - Glenn Currier  

Letting Go
By Glenn Currier

I loved my work and did it well
and yes, on occasion it was hell
so I became ready to retire
to something perhaps deeper or higher
to my garden room and evening strolls
or even to the sphere of the soul.

I wanted to lay around a bit
as much as my wife would permit
listen to music and without shame
go to movies, travel, and watch the game
I thought it would be easy to leave my work
but useful occupation became my search.

I’ve done some things of which I’m proud
joined some poets and wrote of clouds
I took time to grow and create
but found it hard to sit and wait
with nothing to make my mark
to devote myself to things of the heart.

My biggest challenge still seems to be
letting go of others’ good opinion of me
when the only honor I should crave
is not what I accomplished or gave
but God’s love, his warm embrace
and his welcome into the realm of grace.

Dedicated to my beloved sister, Genie, who suggested that I write my poems not so much for others but for God.

“Letting Go,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier


Poetic Prompt # 30

Write a poem on the theme of "journey."

Poems List

By LaTanya Michael

Taken without thought,
The second I move, I have agreed to not be left behind
I choose to dream
I will not die
I move, dragging or soaring,
I move- on
One step
One step at a time
I choose life
I choose this life
I choose this journey

"Journey," Copyright © 2017 by LaTanya Michael
Posted August 6, 2017

The Rocky Mountaineer Journey
(mountain train trip)

By John D. Call

Like an immense serpent
the Rocky Mountaineer winds its way
over, around, and through the great Canadian Rockies,
from Vancouver, British Columbia to Jasper, Alberta.

From the blue distances to the near at hand
its windows look out
upon the beauty of the land –
climbing high across the passes
and near to the great snow masses
that will, in their time, melt away
swelling the streams below.

No two trips are alike,
for with as little as a passing cloud’s shadow
the face of a great mountain is changed,
so also the patterns of sunshine and shadows
across the expanse of a glacier
or through the pine and aspen
or upon rocks in a stream.

Finally we gain the snow line.
Here in glaciers and gullies and packs
there is constant snow present.
We cross over the Great Divide
where melting snow flows to the sea
in three directions – a kind of holy trinity
and nature’s metaphor for change and transformation.

And the inhabitants of these mountains –
the bears, the elk, the mule deer, the moose, the bighorn sheep,
and the marmot –
does it not touch a resonant chord within us
to see our kin in the high thin air –
wild and free?

And the Rocky Mountaineer
winds its way over, around, and through
the great Canadian Rockies,
from Vancouver, British Columbia
to Jasper, Alberta.

Fabric of Time
By Roland R. Ruiz
Audio of Roland reading his poem WMA version - MP3 version

Is death the breeze, which blows away
The very fabric of time
Will it come quickly like the winds, which sway
In the hidden notes of a forgotten chime

Within the silence of a throbbing heart
Exists a calmness the nature of necessity
I wonder will this destiny soon depart
Towards clouds of peace created by reality

Opening a gate to the unknown
Exposing a lonely trodden road
I've never traveled before yet knowing I'm alone
Bedazzled and feeling the pressure from the load

I trek beyond my mortal fears
Towards a goal I hope to make
Amid the moisture of flowing tears
I take control for my very sake

Hearing the death knell of the breeze
It shakes the outer edge of time
Forcing the trees to drop their leaves
Enticing my soul to wither and pine

Leaving this place of contentment
I'll gather new thoughts within this ride
To all that waits in wonderment
With open eyes and sorrowful pride

I wait to greet my fate

"Fabric of Time," Copyright  © 2017 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written July 13, 2009
Posted here July 22, 2017

Oregon Passages
By Glenn Currier

The dark oaks’ gentle rhythm
caresses the faltering twilight
and a dim sadness creeps
into the receding day -
a pendulous cloud upon me lay.

In the hotel room
a hazy hint of doom
my limbs are weary
my mind made bleary
by the thickness of the day.

Mind you, this is but one moment in a journey,
but the glories of last week are swiftly fading
the darkness, a stealthy force invading.
I even wonder if death
might actually relieve
or even lift this aging me.

In my early sleep
images gently pass before me.

The greenness of Oregon,
its forests of fir sublime
snow-capped mountains to climb
beaches and surf
flung from the Pacific’s
awesome depths.
Images and memories
of this emerald State,
and its coastal cottages
breach my fatigue and float me
into comfort and the peace
of deep blessed sleep.

I awaken from these restful wanderings
wondering about the passages of this journey.

Yes, we traveled the outside:
through babbling bubbling Portland
up and down Eugene’s hills
Salem’s capitol, shops, bars and grills
we drank craft beers, ate fish and chips,
spoke of the coming solar eclipse
storied ourselves to the sea
saw gulls and kids play in sandy glee.

All of these you could see, snap and post.
But the hidden passages strike me most.

As this journey ends
I reflect, I feel, I soar
through the opened doors
and windows - I see inside
what we’ve tried to deflect or hide.

Behind my tears she saw the pain and gain
heard my weakness when I’m drained
saw the joy in my little boy
finding gifts and a big man’s toy.

I watched her speaking with her hands
walking gently as if to caress the sands
not sparing self-critical comparing
telling stories of movies and hikes
and trips across America on bikes
I saw her in her sparkle-eyed girl
heard a woman who been in
but not of the world.

Maybe leaving this body behind
is not so horrible and baleful
not so very unimaginable
as when I was young
for now there are fewer songs unsung.

As I began this ballad
I was down and pallid.
And it’s true - the surprises of my life
are no longer popping or rife
with excitement and the new
of audition, graduation and debut.
Instead, now I’m alive and wild
with journeys of faith and love
hearts made of gold
and serene searches of soul.

“Oregon Passages,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier

Poetic Prompt # 29

Write a poem on the theme of plants, gardens, planting, etc.

Poetic Prompt # 28

Image: Homeless man

Write a poem inspired by the above photo.

Poetic Prompt # 28 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)

By LaTanya Michael

I see you with a blind eye,
 walk away I say inside
fear takes over
   the love of Christ compels me to act, but where has it gone?
stereotypes pop up like an unwanted virus and I am masked with a quick and sudden NO.
Why this and why that? What if he is lying?
I play God as I walk by saddened but unashamed.
How dare I judge another man's pain?
   Where is the love in my gestures?
Food is something we all need.
   Yet and still I walk by without token or measure of how far a small meal can go.
Somehow the log in my eye has prevented me to see.
     So I keep walking as I unashamedly say no

"No," Copyright © 2017 by La Tanya Michael
Posted May 22, 2017

The Faces of Homelessness
By Shirley A. Hammond

The faithful, the fallen
The Veteran, the teacher
The merchant, the artist
And even the preacher

Their faces are a confetti affair

The skilled, the educated
The sad, the elated
You'll find all types in this snare

The troubled, the injured
The displaced, the reduced and laid off
Homeless can happen to anyone
So, please don't scoff

There once was an engineer
Who married his sweet darling girl
After years of marriage and children
They separated to different worlds

She got the kids and house
He got alimony and child support payroll deductions
His paycheck didn't stretch far enough
When he adhered to the judge's instructions

So, he packed his things in a box
And put the box in a shopping cart

He knew he made good money
He knew that he was very smart

But just like many who work
In these days of affordable housing woes
He reported to a job daily
But at night, had nowhere to go

The chef, the maid, the person with AIDS
May all end up on the street
Often they are not only homeless

They have no food to eat
When money runs out
As it often will do Who can save or deposit money?
I ask you again – Who?

"The Faces of Homelessness," Copyright © 2017 by Shirley Hammond
Posted May 10, 2017

The Empty Ones
By james kenneth blaylock

what has happened to humanity,
whereas we used to have hearts

we now have hefty voids within our
souls - bleeding blackened blights...

passing people in need does very
little to our brittle bones, lonely

staring into their eyes it's easiest
to see that we're the empty ones

"The Empty Ones," Copyright 2017 by james kenneth blaylock
Written 5-6-17

By Glenn Currier

I have always had a place to sleep nights
with a roof over my head and my own bed
but my homeless state was out of sight
it was at a lonely space in my mind instead.

I cannot count the years I wandered
on rocky winding roads in dark
nor measure the grace and light I squandered
losing myself in distraction and work.

I can't remember not having a job
nor count the hours I've wasted,
nor the love and care I've robbed
nor the bread of life not tasted.

You won't see me holding my cup
on the sidewalk in the city
my pride's too great to give up
I won't ask you for your pity.

Yes, I have often been hungry
I've been empty of inspiration
yearned for peace in my country
hoped for the source of creation.

But recently I've awakened
from the darkness I had roamed
found the road I wish I'd taken
to a deeper fuller higher home.

"Homeless," Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier
Posted May 7, 2017

Printable copy of above poem


Poetic Prompt # 27

In celebration of April being National Poetry Month, write a poem on the theme of poetry, writing poetry, the meaning of poetry to you, or why you like or love poetry.

Poetic Prompt # 27 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)

How to Build a Fire
By John D. Call

First you need a spark – perhaps steel against flint.
Where the sparks fall, place some kind of tinder –
perhaps charred cloth or tree bark or steel wool.

When a spark hits the tinder and it begins to glow,
gently nurture the glow into a tiny flame
by softly breathing on it.

Slowly add some twigs, then sticks, then branches, then logs.
And let there be spaces between them, that the flame
may stretch and grow.

As the flame grows, the fire breathes for itself.
Feasting on air,
kindling smoke by day
and flickering shadows by night,
it becomes a living being.

And that’s how to build a fire.
And that’s also how to write a poem.

Image: Rainbow and mountains

A Poet's Dreams
By Roland Ruiz
Audio recording with music: Roland reads his poem MP3

Of all the tributes which have been cast
Inside lost rainbows where thrives the past
Lays the best of who we are
Writers locked within a painted jar

Which holds the words born of thoughts
Colored stanzas buried within locked vaults
Rhymes to lessen the flow of pain
Incurred by life's happenstance and shame

Like regents aground along the sandy bar
Searching for the essence of who we are
Seeking a key to the outer world
We write to be freed from this swirl

I feel the wind along the river's edge
It sings of love I've soulfully pledge
To words that drift between the seams
A captive smile to all it beams

This fragrance from a poet's thought
Lives forever, paid and bought
Within the currents of the streams
Contain the melodies in a poet's dreams

"A Poet's Dream," Copyright © 2015 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written January 6, 2011
Re-posted March 29, 2017



Poetic Prompt # 26

Find something in your living space that attracts you or finds a resonance within you physically, cognitively, emotionally, or spiritually.
Listen to it tell its story; then along with your experience within, write a poem.

Poetic Prompt # 26 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)


(for my grandchildren)

Image: Call sculpture that inspired poem, "Cookies"

It was Mrs. Cow who discovered the basket of cookies
sitting high upon the barn shelf.
But try as she may, there was just no way
to reach them all by herself.

She saw Mr. Pig passing by
and immediately devised a plan.
She said to him, "Mr. Pig, would you help me, please;
please help me if you can!"

So Mr. Pig climbed upon Mrs. Cow's back,
but try as they may, there was just no way;
it was still the height they lacked.

Then came Miss Rabbit hopping down the trail.
Mrs. Cow and Mr. Pig told her the sad cookie tale.
So Miss Rabbit stood on Mr. Pig's back, who stood upon Mrs. Cow,
and they stretched and stretched for all they were worth,
but they were no closer now!

But Mrs. Cow had a plan that included one more man,
and she knew just where to find him.
Mr. Rooster was about due for his "Cock-a-doodle-do,"
so she quietly snuck up behind him.

She scared him so bad, he went temporarily mad
and with a smile went to the top of the pile
where he suddenly went sane
and with a great strain,
he stretched with all he had.

Well, Mr. Rooster reached the basket;
'twas really quite a cinch.
But they all ran away,
for the basket, they say,
had a most powerful stench!

Now Mrs. Cow and Mr. Pig
and Miss Rabbit and Mr. Rooster
all have moved to the city dump,
because, they say, to this very day,
they still smell a lot like a skunk!

Image: My Birthday Rose

Embers of Thoughts
By Roland R. Ruiz
Audio Recording of poem: MP3

Dedicated: My far away friend
Who lives in mountain air
In a country far from here
At rainbows end sweet roses bloom
God's blessings to you I send

What clings inside a garden rose
Which holds sweet thoughts so clear
Embers of thoughts carefully composed
Like rainbows we hold so dear

Across the wide ocean with swells so stark
Lie multitudes of color reflected in the dew
Which brings a fondness to one's heart
Melancholy in nature conveying memories so true

Within the rainbows which sing of rhyme
Embeds the shadows of thoughtful care
Sweet melodies enlacing poetic chime
Embracing feelings we dare to bare

From stanzas we write so ever pure
Resides memories we savor and keep
Along with the friendship we endure
Dwells the reasons as poets we seek

Mountain air embeds sweetness changes the gloom
Enticing smiles to banish the frowns
As the wind blows across rose petals that bloom
For in your rose garden precious friendship abounds

"Embers of Thoughts," Copyright 2017 by: Roland R. Ruiz
Posted March 15, 2017 - Written October, 26, 2015

Bison Song
By Glenn Currier

Image: sculpture of bison

Oh how the sadness in your wizened eyes
betrays your history on our mother earth
the plains whose dust your heard would fill the skies
your massive movement sounding your great girth.
For centuries your flesh and bones supplied
the native peoples from their very birth.
Whites took your land and brought your quick demise
to steal the sacred meaning of your worth.

But still with furry shoulders you stand tall
your sacred legacy of strength remains
we thank you for the blessings you still bring.
You ground us lifting souls to Spirit's call
you sweep and roar across our daily plains
reminding us to bow, then dance and sing.

"Bison Song," Copyright © 2016 by Glenn Currier
Posted here February 28, 2017

Author's Note: My sonnet above is inspired by Rainer Maria Rilke's sonnet, "Archaic Torso of Apollo" Rilke's poem, in sonnet form, wrote beautifully of what the white marble sculpture of Apollo (arms, and head no longer there) spoke to him. Here are his first five lines:
     We cannot know his legendary head
     with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
     is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
     like a lamp , in which his gaze, now turned low,
     gleams in all its power…

Looking for my own piece of art, I found a wood-carved sculpture of a bison, given to me many years ago by my wife, that now stands on the top shelf of our garden room bookcase, a place of honor where it belongs.

I also recommend that you listen to Buffy St. Marie's great song, "Now That the Buffalo's Gone"

Poetic Prompt # 25

Since February is the month of love, including but not exclusively due to the celebration of Valentine's Day, we are suggesting that you:

Write a poem on the theme of love.

Poetic Prompt # 25 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)

Two Faces
By Elizabeth Hobbs

Image: Poem - Two Faces

"Two Faces," Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Hobbs
Posted February 9, 2017


An Awesome Kind of Love
By Sharon West

You are the Love of my life
The reason I do what I do
My palms still sweat when I'm near you
An Unconditional Love, that's honest, trustworthy and true
A Love that's never ending is what I cherish with you
The passion of my heart your Love is fearless, yet painful too
I can always be myself when I'm around you
Laughing and talking together, Your Love doesn't judge the things I do
It's tolerant and forgiving, can't bear thought of ever losing you
Love is respect at its highest never wanting to hurt you
We grow with the changes, the challenges, and together we get through
Our Love is not complicated; it's soft as a warm and gentle hug
Sharing with you is so special
We have an awesome kind of Love

"An Awesome Kind of Love," Copyright © 2017 by Sharon West
Posted February 9, 2017

Your Smile
(for my wife on our forty-fourth anniversary)
By John D. Call

Was it the conspiring of the universe
or simply a room with a view
that caused your smile to linger there
and first drew me to you?

Is it in looking through the eyes of love
and finding my life fulfilled,
that even after forty-four years
I see the same smile still?

And now your smile seems so much a part
of all you say and do;
it ever and always wins my heart,
and I fall in love again with you!

"Your Smile," Copyright © 2013 by John D. Call
Posted February 1, 2017

Somehow Today
(For my wife)

Somehow today dearer to me,
You go about your way as always.
There is no explaining the depth of your smile,
How your eyes shine at me
Through the necessary distance between us.

Nor can I save for a day of loneliness
The easy way you part the air in your moving,
Not with determined purpose,
But as Rodin's "Apollo" stands of its own,
Shining in its space –

"Somehow Today," Copyright© 1999 by John D. Call
Posted February 1, 2017

Beyond the Crooked Trees
By Glenn Currier

I walk among crooked trees
its leaves wind-thrown
and gone to ground.
I feel the cooling breeze
stop and lean close
run my hand across the ragged trunk
its pulse now loving deeply.

On the baseball field dad hits
to his boy who leaps
tips the ball
retrieves it
and ably slings it
to an imagined catcher
at the backstop.
And dad shows him a better arch
for his arm.

Ah! what a sweet scene
this simple love of father and son.
I smile sadly
no such memory inside
to warm this wintry day
but somehow healed
by the peal of that bat on ball
a splendid father's swing
the smooth lope of his child
across that field
just beyond the crooked trees.

"Beyond the Crooked Trees," Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier
Posted January 29, 2017


Image: Surf

Tides of Time
By Roland Ruiz

Dedicated: Those former lovers
From years past whose eyes meet
Across the room rekindling memories
Of a tryst once held and still remembered

As we seek the flowing streams along this rugged course
Is the boundary which we share just a memory from the past
Will shameful desires be found in the specters of remorse?
In bending heart and soul, will moments expand so dreams will last?

A Rose by a rambling brook
In the early misty morn
Brings the sharpness of a daunting look
From a face so weathered and worn

Like the many straining shadows, to dash this urge of mine?
Our roving eyes come to meet, across a crowded room
Bringing back forgotten thoughts, as memories begin to pine
Of love we once enjoyed as the past begin to loom

Wishing reverting passion would slowly commence to stray
Trying to hide the feelings, I stared another way
You with your husband, me with my wife
Slowly turning towards each other, we smile to cover the strife

Concealing the sultry feelings we shared so long ago
I whispered to my beloved, it's best we do take leave
Wondering as the door is closed could she possibly know
Not a word was said as we drove home thru the rustling leaves

I feel a sudden sadness that I cannot explain
Deep inside I fear she knows of this blissful crime
It sings of lonely memories filled with lustful pain
Of the tryst, I tried to hide amid the tides of time

"Tides of Time," Copyright © 2009 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written May 10, 2009

Blind Love Image: small heart
By LaTanya Michael

I haven't seen your face
You're beautiful to me
Growing as each day passes
My love is ever lasting
We bonded from day one
We grow together
I grow in spirit
You in life
Every moment is timeless Every second is priceless
Like an ocean my belly flows
With every stretch and kick
I am amazed at your growth
I am amazed at how God knows exactly what to do
I'm amazed to love and be loved by you.
From day one I loved you
Amazed with eyes blinded...

"Blind Love ??" Copyright © 2017 by LaTanya Michael
Posted 1-14-17

Poetic Prompt # 24

Write a poem on the theme of "threshold or thresholds."

Editor's Note: Feel free to read John Call's poem below. He captures so much about the thresholds of life.

         Poetic Prompt # 24 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)


By James K. Blaylock

once, I was a very unlearnt boy
just wandering through life's monotony
I forsook every good thing all around me,
even the gorgeous arrangements
long story short, I was far from peaceful,
or anything of that ilk...

as I was oafish and standoffish
and more than slightly boorish
until, finally, I happened along
to His wonderful and beautifying threshold

"Thresholds," Copyright © 2016 by James K. Blaylock
Posted November 16, 2016

Threshold of Becoming a Man
By James Brown

When I was young, boys wore short pants,
Till sometime in between,
The first and second year at school,
Moms knew it time to wean.

For words, could scar a kid for life,
Like "sissy, mama's boy",
A mark of age, the future man,
Long pants we did enjoy.

Learned real men never thought it right,
To live at home again,
Or ask for money from his folks,
Much less from any kin.

We learned what "stupid-jerk" meant then,
And urges most withstood,
A pew in church was far less stress,
Than early fatherhood.

That time of life was finally done,
None wanted teens to last,
Our time was now, the future here,
Those childish things were past.

"Threshold of Becoming a Man," Copyright © 2016 byJames Brown
Posted November 14, 2016

By John D. Call

How does the meaning of space change
when we cross over a threshold?

The bride is carried over
the threshold of her new home.

The condemned prisoner
steps from the long hall
into the execution chamber.
It is the final five minutes
of his life.

The graduate crosses the stage
and receives his diploma.

The husband signs the divorce papers
and moves into his own apartment.

Thresholds are where endings
and beginnings
become one.

Thresholds are times and places
where, for better or worse,
life pivots,
and something changes -
and things are never the same.

Some thresholds are so small
that we hardly notice them at all,
like the siphoning away
of neurotransmitters from brain cells
in Parkinson's disease.

Some are so huge
that everyone on earth knows about it
at the same time -
"That's one small step for man,
one giant leap for mankind!"

"Thresholds," Copyright © 2016 by John D. Call
Posted November 10, 2016

Poetic Prompt # 23
Write a poem inspired by, based on, or imitating another poem. Please mention the name of the original poem and its author if known.

Poetic Prompt # 23 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)

Image: Bible - open book

Genesis - Chapter I
By Jim Brown

In the beginning it's been told,
The days were long and dark,
Then God turned on His Light and Time,
The worlds beginning mark!

Strange things began those six long days,
And they were not the least,
God figured that it might take time,
Creating men and beasts.

"Their image will be what we are,"
He said to sons that day,
As godlike men and female too,
Yet feet of iron and clay.

What puzzles bible scholars now,
Believed by just a few,
Were men aplenty doing things,
The earth to then subdue.

Which may explain the wondrous works,
We can't quite understand,
Gigantic structures ring the earth,
Yet built by human hand.

He made us all as godlike men,
It says right in the book,
We've been on earth from eons past,
If we will only look.


When I Think About Myself
By LaTanya Michael

When I think about myself
I almost always get quiet
Tug of war inside my brain,
Picket signs and riots
Wanting one more thing, No washing out the stains,
I always try to remember i am happier the less I complain,
When I Think About Myself

Thirty four years in this big world,
The ladies I work for call me a baby,
I let them, it makes me feel young
I laugh inside to have a little fun,
I know my smarts even if they think I am dumb,
When I think about myself,

Although my experience out weighs my years,
Baby is furthest from my mind,
I've been around the block a couple times
I sigh when I think about myself

My family makes me grit my teeth,
We gather together increasing the heat,
Laughing joking I miss you you miss me,
Is she yelling from across the street?
We're far from quiet, like jalapeños we be,
Making memories for eternity,
When I think about My family.

Author's Note: Inspired by "When I Think About Myself" by Maya Angelou

A Far Walk
By John D. Call

I cannot tell you how far I walked;
I only know it was far and more,
much farther than before!
For this time I walked beyond the clattering traffic -
the sounds of horns, engines winding out after red lights,
and brakes squealing!

I walked beyond the lights of town
and the halo of light that hovers high above the ground
and can be seen for miles.
I walked beyond the bark of dogs and screams of fear
rising up from the violent streets,
beyond the frowns, smiles, and tears
of those I chanced to meet.
I walked beyond the thoughts and dreams
of all the people I had left behind,
and my own as well - a clearing of the mind.
I walked beyond even the sound of my own heart beating
and the sound of my very breath.
All these things by which I had known myself,
I walked beyond.

And I can tell you this, that as I walked on
I was a truer self, a freer self,
nearer the essence of my being, my core!
but I cannot tell you how far it was I walked,
only know it was farther, much farther, than before.

Author's Note: Inspired in part by Robert Frost's poem, "Acquainted with the Night"

"A Far Walk," Copyright © 2010 by John D. Call
Posted October 21, 2016

Toot Sweet
By James Kenneth Blaylock

Come hither to see the rotation drop
come witness as the dizziness stops
never mind our lofty kind intentions
cause we're not too good at inventing

instead lets focus upon the coldness
and/or the hotness, ever stirring up...
not any reason for loving nor hating
as dread holds folks minds, very tight
time tells the world it's last goodnight

so lift your emptying cup, toot sweet,
pondering if it'll be somewhat discreet

Author's Note: Inspired by the poem, Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

"Toot Sweet," Copyright © 2016 by james kenneth blaylock
Written 10-13-16
Posted October 21, 2016

Image: buffalo sculpture

Bison Song
By Glenn Currier

Oh how the sadness in your wizened eyes
betrays your history on our mother earth
the plains whose dust your heard would fill the skies
your massive movement sounding your great girth.
For centuries your flesh and bones supplied
the native peoples from their very birth.
Whites took your land and brought your quick demise
to steal the sacred meaning of your worth.

But still with furry shoulders you stand tall
your sacred legacy of strength remains
we thank you for the blessings you still bring.
You ground us lifting souls to Spirit's call
you sweep and roar across our daily plains
reminding us to bow, then dance and sing.

"Bison Song," Copyright © 2016 by Glenn Currier
Posted October 3,2016

Author's Note: Inspired by Rainer Maria Rilke's sonnet, "Archaic Torso of Apollo" Rilke's poem, in sonnet form, wrote beautifully of what the white marble sculpture of Apollo (arms, and head no longer there) spoke to him. Here are his first five lines:
     We cannot know his legendary head
     with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
     is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
     like a lamp , in which his gaze, now turned low,
     gleams in all its power…

Looking for my own piece of art, I found a wood-carved sculpture of a bison, given to me many years ago by my wife, that now stands on the top shelf of our garden room, a place of honor where it belongs.

I also recommend that you listen to Buffy St. Marie's great song, "Now That the Buffalo's Gone"

Image: Lady Mary Wilson

By Roland Ruiz
Audio Recording of Roland reading his poem MP3 WMA

Dedicated: Norma Southwood from England
A poetry friend who introduced me to the poetry
of Lady Mary Wilson who wrote:

If I can write before I die
One line of purest poetry
Or crystallize for all to share
A thought unique a moment rare
Within one sentence clear and plain
Then I shall not have lived in vain

Untitled introduction from Selected Poems (1970)
(Wife of the late Prime Minister Harold Wilson)

Fits the old saying which is true
(Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery)

If I could write a line or two
Prestigious in form and sublime
Containing not an ounce of rue
Encasing destiny so refined
Within the dunes of the sand
One hears the echoes of the chime
Poetically expressed we understand
The reasons why the words must rhyme

"Reasons," Copyright © 2016 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written April 16, 2014
Posted September 29, 2016

Poetic Prompt # 22
Write a poem incorporating some sort of wound whether it be literal, figurative, physical, or emotional.

Poetic Prompt # 22 Poems List (titles hyperlinked)

This Scar
By LaTanya Michael

There's something about this scar that I love so much
Life came from this scar
Pain came from this scar
All the love I have to give comes from this scar
I may not have had you naturally like other mothers do
But my love remains the same sacred, timeless, and
precious to me
My child when you see this scar just know that it was not a
This scar is a prize, a gift, and an honor
You were welcomed on earth this way and I am so proud to
call you mine…

I love you always,


"This Scar," Copyright © 2016 By LaTanya Michael
Posted September 8, 2016

By Roland Ruiz
Audio Recording of Roland reading his poem | MP3 format | WMA format

The poem Obstacles is dedicated to those
who at times feel life over the years
life has abandoned them
without any concern for their well being
hope lies within the heart they need but listen

The strength to overcome obstacles lies within the heart
It awakes a reality which at times can shear a will apart
Any and all emerging light which attests one's life's chart
Can establish an essence of hopefulness buried within the dark

Eroding the pains and hurts collected over solemn years
Placating memories induced from the stream of flowing tears
Shattering lonely echoes of long forgotten cheers
Entraps many efforts from manifesting fears

Rearranging the webs weaved will guide us to the fold
To overcome what is predestined is a lofty goal
Advancing time along with age makes us very bold
Enough to shake the very fiber encrusted within our soul

Amid the spray of an ocean swell with never ending peaks
A sacred haunt known to exist will bring a peace one seeks
Our lives contains no barrier or quest which is too steep
For faith in the conveyor will cleanse the sins we weep

"Obstacles," Copyright c 2016 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written March 23, 2011
Posted August 22, 2016

A hola in my shnozolla
By Glenn Currier

I've got a wound on my snout
so many years of it sticking out
beyond the shade of my lid
in all the outside things I did
catching and storing those rays
from fishing on blazing days
mowing lawns answering the call
to take a hike or play baseball
and on my way to conquer
I led the way with my honker.
Now the dermatology doc
says she needs to take stock
of the cells on my snoot
so she sliced a bit to constitute
a sample to send to the lab
and thus you see my little scab.

"A hola in my schnozolla," Copyright 2016 by Glenn Currier
Posted August 29, 2016

Previous Poetic Prompts...

Poetic Prompt # 21
Write a poem in which you refer to yourself as "you" throughout.

You Were Made For This
By LaTanya Michael

You are strong,
You are beautiful,
Outstanding in every way,
From the tiniest drop of blood,
To the loudest laugh that you can make,
You are extra ordinary,
You need not be afraid,
Everything you need to survive this was already built inside of you,
You are resilient,
You are strong,
You are ready for the ride,
Do not be afraid,
Just hold on.

Night Thoughts
By Glenda Henderson

On summer nights you lay outside
On the quilt that your mother made
And stared at the dark sky above
At the constellations displayed.

Scorpio was your favorite;
To you, its tail looked like a plane.
You wondered what lay beyond that
But no one you knew could explain.

If you travelled far enough, would you
Come to the end and the last?
It seemed there would have to be more;
Infinity was hard to grasp.

Einstein had once explained it all,
But it left your mind spinning.
You could never reach the end of space;
You'd come back to the beginning.

As an adult you ceased to fret
And now you would recommend it.
You left the universe to God
And trusted that He would tend it.

By Theodore L. Shaffer, Jr.

Your gaze was westward, on the bluff.
Beneath the setting sun, the beach
Kept blushing, as the sea rushed up
To kiss its cheek time after time,
Until the sun fell off horizon's edge.
And, all the while, your joyous eye
Loved and caressed each fleeting view.

"Sunset," Copyright © 2016 by Theodore L. Shaffer, Jr.

Your Life
By Jim Brown

You are a handsome dog you are,
That was in '42,
With golden wings upon your breast,
And uniform of blue.

But time has taken, you confessed,
When looking in your eyes,
For cataracts and hearing aids,
You look like other guys.

Your hair is thinner now than then,
Your uniform is tight,
No way they'd let you in a jet,
You can't drive now at night.

But lots of things are just the same,
Your Uncle Sam keeps tabs,
You send the checks to him on time,
And if you fail he grabs.

A lot of stuff is new to you,
Like "Sir' and "may I help",
Plus discounts at the grocery store,
Or stub your toe and yelp.

The rhymes you write point often now,
To your home in the sky,
And hope your sins might be forgot,
By your Forgiving Guy.

And silently you pray each night,
You've done like this for years,
You feel quite close to God on high,
He's been with you through tears.

You think of Him a personal friend,
To pray and ask advice,
And failing have the lumps to show,
For sometimes done it twice.

He must be like your father's voice,
He's there but you can't see,
You know he knows when you've done wrong,
It's up to you and me,

You can't imagine what's beyond,
Or what you could have done,
But honor him and seek his grace,
Before your life is done.

I know you
By Sharon West

You are always in your feelings
At times that bothers you
You care too much what others think
about the kind and softer you

Do they really see you, you wonder this a lot
Your quiet and distant mannerism can make you seem forgotten
But you are fantastic,a gem all its own..you radiate the beauty
of the Savior on his throne

So continue to be YOU, share the blessings as they're shown
and bask in joy of knowing the YOU, you've always known

By Glenn Currier

Sometimes you think yourself leafy brown
with odor of musk and watery ground.
You think yourself a toddler compared
to poets writing stars and clouds in air.

You do not hear your voice as one
of sweetest tone in surging run
a tenor in a high and brighter space
joined with orange of alto and blue of bass.

You are a voice not a choir
it's not a solo you require
but a body - all organs working
neither slumbering nor shirking.

So, just breathe in and breathe out
forsake control give up your doubt
believe, believe in mercy and let go
trust the well, the depths - just grow.

"Choir," Copyright © 2016 by Glenn Currier


Poetic Prompt # 20
Write a poem including the following three words:

  • note
  • goal
  • altar

On a Spiritual Note.....There is Hope
By Shelondira Gay

Good spirits exist, but bad spirits enlist in service as air,a smoke screen, seeking to devour
God is calling, its appalling, many are falling because of stalling to repent this hour
While archangels fighting, fallen angels lies' seem enlightening, many souls are lost
Oh what a price we must pay, to see that long awaited day, but YHWH suffered the cost
One can't truly understand, Gods' divine purpose & plan,without study and meditation
Nothing can truly be considered a accomplishment if "eternal life" isn't in equation
On a spiritual note, there is hope, don't struggle to cope,give it to our living&loving Father
Who has left us a Comforter, for His children on this earthly pilgrimage with He as author
We are vines chiseled as paper, life is the pen, the Holy Spirit as the instructor guiding us within
God's compass, aborts my goals, honest, creating each long chapter, in Him I always win
Through much adversity and a student in life's' university, I'm privileged to run this race
I'm so grateful to go to Gods' altar becuz He is faithful,I groan, the manifestation of His face

Author's note: May your souls be blessed.........

A Message to God in Heaven
By Glenda Henderson

I'm writing a message to God
To ask Him to bless you each day.
May all your problems be small ones
And your path be smooth all the way.

I pray you enjoy each sunrise,
Each rainbow, and flower you see,
May rain fall gently upon you,
And the breeze touch you tenderly.

May butterflies and bright blue skies
Be yours as you travel life's way.
And my goal is to leave my note
To God on the altar today.

Bride to be's Note from the past
By Sandy O'Neill

The young bride to be slipped into the church and sat in
the pew.

The altar was simple stained glass windows reflecting
beams of light.

Her goal had been to find peace before her big day, the
next morning.

She took out the note her Mother had written before she
had passed away.

She touched each word with love and reverence as tears
gently flowed .

IT wasn't grief , but completeness, healing in it's own
beautiful way.

She felt someone behind her, a whiff of roses and a
gentle breeze stirring her hair.

Her Mom's essence was there. The Young woman smiled
feeling the smile matching hers.

"Bride to be's Note from the past," Copyright © 2016 by Sandy O'Neill
Written 06/16/2016
Posted June 30, 2016

Fire in the Afternoon
By Glenn Currier

The fire rolled down the mountain
like tumbleweeds with one bright goal:
light the barren terrain
of this shallow day.
It reminds me of those
pimply shaky days
of a teen stretching to be a man
and a person of note
perhaps a priest
holding a gleaming chalice
high above the altar
knowing I am
a man of God
an instrument
of the sacred.

I wonder if afternoons like this
are short seasons of burning
clearing away the weeds and brush
paring down
to find the free me
beyond the bridges and trusses
the me beyond the altar
beyond the sacrifice
and sacraments
the subterranean me
flowing with intuition
the protein particles of wisdom
and the sure knowing
of the divine.

"Fire in the Afternoon," Copyright © 2016 by Glenn Currier
Posted June 17, 2016

Altars All the Same
By Jim Brown

Please note my goal to be an altar boy
Was just not meant to be,
The priest found out I was raised a Baptist,
No Holy water for me.

But I doubt that God really cares that much,
And a church is big or small,
Nor whether it be in an open field,
Or behind a prison wall.

I noted that all the altars were the same,
And the priests or preachers too,
Had the same goal no matter of their faith,
For God's message still rings true.

"Altars All the Same," Copyright 2016 by Jim Brown
Posted June 17, 2016

God's Delight
By Helen Currier

To see the sunset was my goal,
I wanted to renew my soul.
God's glory and wonder to see,
I set my alarm for 5:33.

The light on the horizon was yellow and bright,
God's creation gave me such delight.
The sun rose from over the ocean
Our cruise ship was in motion.

Going towards the eastern sky,
I wanted to revel as the day drew nigh.
As I stood watching the sunrise
My soul began increasing in size.

I knew God's magnificence
Felt His sacred presence.
Glad to be witnessing God's designs,
I wanted to write a beautiful rhyme.

Taking note of every change of hue
Watching as the sky turned blue.
This deck is the altar of God's delight,
Showing me all of God's creative might.

"God's Delight," Copyright © 2016 By Helen Currier
Posted June 17, 2016

A Gift of Praise
By John D. Call

Music rises
into the heights of the cathedral.
Then, descending, each note finds its goal
upon the altar
and is offered
as a gift of praise —

"A Gift of Praise," Copyright© 2016 by John D. Call
Posted June 16, 2016

Not to Wed
By Genie Currier

Note that my goal in life
has not been to wed.
Though I've been to the altar at times
No words like "I do" have been said".

"Not to Wed," Copyright © 2016 by Genie Currier
Posted June 16, 2016

Happy It Was Now
By Shirley Hammond

He hit a high note as he sang
His goal was to hit a high soprano note
He wasn't worried about a single thang
The guest in the audience had already given their vote

He had on his tux
His cumber bund and bow tie
He was told he had great luck
He had this twinkle in his eye

He waited with bated breath and bright red ears
As the organist began to play
After a moment, his escorted adorned bride appeared
It was their wedding day

He saw them walking toward him
He didn't want father/daughter to falter
He noticed her tiny waist was so slim
As the two approached the altar

Wedding bells, their wedding day
They were now saying their vows
The day that they had planned was underway
And they were happy it was now

"Happy It Was Now," Copyright © 2016 by Shirley Hammond
Posted June 16, 2016

Poetic Prompt # 19
Write a stream of consciousness poem.

A stream of consciousness poem (SOC) begins with a single awareness at a point in time. For instance, I begin this SOC poem with the line, "the wind is near blowing the words/off the page." I chose to use no caps or punctuation marks as a matter of stylistic taste.

After the first line, go with what presents itself next. In other words, stay in the present with the present image, and instead of going to the next image/thought, etc., let it come to you. Have fun (or not).

(a stream of consciousness poem)

the wind is near blowing the words
off the page
have you ever been told
not to be so bold
or settle down
or act our age
and you had no idea
what that meant

i have somewhere within
every age i've ever been
they wait off stage for their cue
but they haven't the heart
to read their part
in fact they haven't a clue

oh, yes,
from birth to death
and in between
act after act and scene after scene
mystery and romance
life is live performance

but beware the script
that has your wings clipped
by the end of the first act
you've come so far to become a star
now you're at the bus station all packed

you may watch all these things
from deep in the wings
and the play will go on long after you're gone
and your telephone never rings

and when the curtains fall
on the third curtain call
you've gotten all you'll get
still you buy the morning news
just to read the reviews
and the sun is beginning to set

"(a stream of consciousness poem)," Copyright © 2016 by John D. Call
Posted May 20, 2016

Author's Note: I had no idea how to write a stream of consciousness poem although I had used the method in prose writing as a cure for writer's block. I read a bit about it on the Internet. There was a suggestion to use colors or creative drawing. I copied the ampersand from the adult coloring pages that I downloaded. I colored it and composed the attached work sheets. It was not a poem, but I then I rearranged it and it became the poem below.

Summer Dreams
By Glenda Henderson

lying on the navy and white cushion
in the wicker porch swing—
white puffy clouds float across
the pale blue summer sky

where are they going
and what will they do
will they float over the ocean
forming a backdrop of serenity
for the noisy gulls searching
for food and fussing at each other—

or will they sail over the mountains
and disappear
leaving us to always wonder—

will they rise into towering cumulus
or stretch into lumpy cirrus
high and covering the sky—

will white turn to gray—
will the rain be cool and soothing
or will the wind blow and
and turn the drops into needles
hammering them into the dust—

the porch swing rocks gently—
eyelids droop and mind grows quiet—
ideas sail away to foreign lands
like clouds in the sky—

where will life take me next—
who will share my future with me—
what will tomorrow bring—
sadness and regret for this moment passed—
or excitement—adventure—contentment—
uncertain as the clouds—
ever changing—
dissipating and rising again in another
never to be repeated form—

change is good and stability impossible—
error is inevitable—
perfection belongs to God—

"Summer Dreams," Copyright © 2016 by Glenda Henderson
Posted August 18, 2016

By LaTanya Michael

Monotonous tasks each have a purpose but drive me insane
Sanity is overrated anyway we are all one disaster away from losing it
where are my keys
I can never seem to find them yet I talk out loud as if they can hear me calling
While my phone rings I hold my breath with anticipation wondering if I want to answer or not
Knots tangles and tired arms keep me up all night way too long as I comb my hair and they say, "watch a movie while you do it and the time goes by faster " yeah being right
the ability two use both hands could really come in handy right now...wish I were ambidextrous and then my arms could take turns
Turn off that video game before your brain goes to mush!
Imbalance makes you useless to yourself and others
Other than that time I played video games countless times when I was younger yet somehow it's not good for you today that is
You know how we say one thing and do another when mimicking is the first way we learned from birth. We feed off one another
By the way, what are we going to eat for dinner anyway!?

"Rambling," Copyright © 2016 by LaTanya Michael
Posted May 28, 2016

Silent Words
By Sandy O'Neill

Streams of light following a path of thoughts
forming into patterns of color, layering one
over another.

Soft gentle tones gathering momentum into
loud invisible vibrations forming words jumbled
in the mind.

See Me. Hear Me. Know Me.
Then again retreating into a profound silence.

"Silent Words," Copyright © 2016 by Sandy O'Neill
Posted May 29, 2016

By Sharon West

When you know you've had your best
and your worst is yet to come
How do you follow butterflies beneath the
blistering sun
The good is always better, it's best to follow the SON
Than to let our minds go wondering
Because this world's a Great Big Con
There's unknown challenges ahead of us and
victories to pursue
Each destination all mapped out the choices up to you

"Uncertainty," Copyright © 2016 by Sharon West
Posted May 21, 2016

The poem below did not start out as a poem, but as stream of consciousness writing - several lines saying whatever came to my mind as I mulled over my feelings and reactions to my wife's hip replacement surgery. I was stressed and conflicted but I was not sure what I was feeling. At first the images I got were just colors and then shades of dark-to-lighter. I started thinking of what feelings I was having that might be represented by the colors and shades. As I continued to write some of the lines stuck together in what became an emerging theme. I stayed with the feelings and thoughts and let them go where they might. Eventually it became evident that this was becoming a poem. And so... I started arranging the words as such. - Glenn Currier

Reflections of a Caregiver
By Glenn Currier

What colors are your heart?
Are they grays for the clouds hanging there?
Or red for the anger you wish you wouldn't feel?
Shades of maroon to bruising black and blue?
The dirty browns of the mounds of guilt
    guilt for the selfish indulgence of these colors
    when she is the one with the wound?
Heavy shades of sadness and pain?
The strained purple of anxiety
     or its magenta cousin fear
          on the cusp of a foggy frontier?
Dullness extruded from muscle-exhaustion
     that beckons you into sleep?

I pray the loss of twilight
and this journey into night.

I am grateful for the early morning light
     where shades of sadness fade
     the frights of the night are past
     and I am keen
     with shades of green.

Red with the oxygen of Grace,
I thank the Spirit
who sorted my dreams
sewed up the seams
to make whole my soul
and renew my heart.

What color is your heart this day?

"Reflections of a Caregiver," Copyright © 2016 by Glenn Currier
Posted April 25, 2016

Poetic Prompt # 18
Write a poem about a physical challenge and/or victory – either your own or someone else's.

By LaTanya Michael

Rape became a garment she hid yet so descreetly wore
Shame held her hostage while guilt nailed her to the floor
one strike, three strikes
a couple more
Pressed baby girl down
Made black woman angry
Tried to desecrate her heart
Disintegrate her being, almost-maybe
She say little girl within is dying
She's slowly vanishing inside
Black woman made crazy-
that man dismantled her pride
Seized her regal robe
Robbed her illustrious crown
Man used his undoubtable power
Woman shockingly laid hers down
Heart beat -silence
Heart beat - stop-
No sounds just echoes
No life, no clout
Heart faded spirit lifted
The soul was given
Her heart , an extension
The Father blessed her, re-risen
Steady, the rhythm comes back to life again
Not only her lover,
husband, became her friend
God reunited what man tried to obliterate
God quickened two hearts that in a moment one man tried to take
A Lion roars inside her
Black woman, rise again
Take your crown back
Let the devil suffer the sting
She's not giving up now
The Father's on their side
Little girl smiles again
Black woman claimed her pride
For it was never his crown to take
Never his pride to taint
God fights our battles while we silently wait
Weakness is just strength waiting her turn
Power is useless if nobody's won
The mission is our mission
And Christ is the key
If my marriage is redemption then Christ is the key.

"Garment," Copyright © 2016 by LaTanya Michael
Posted April 26, 2016

Image: Sunrise

Second Chance
By Roland Ruiz
Audio Recording of Roland reading his poem | MP3 format | WMA format

Dedicated: Those who are offered a second chance
In their venture down life's road
May they heed the warning of the roar
May they accept the change in the remaining years

Is it to late to change my fate from what it used to be
Can I change from what I was to another me
Life does dwell so quite in a second it can change
Can turn a soul upside down completely rearrange

I've faced this point in recent time
Came close to death was redefined
Heard death knock upon my door
Was it a warning as in a roar?

From faded memories unresolved
Creates the fantasies we notate
I've learned how precious hearts which throb
Upon a road we all partake

Which leads me to my destiny
This warning I will truly heed
For I have words still left in me
This gift granted has become my creed

So I'll accept this new lifestyle
This difference will help to set me free
For I have years still left to trial
This second chance has become the key

"Second Chance," Copyright c by Roland R. Ruiz
Written June 17, 2015
Posted April 26, 2016


Previous Poetic Prompts

Poetic Prompt # 17
Write a poem about spring.

By James Brown

Somewhere between snow and summer,
And the world's come awake again,
Warm days, soft rain, birds of number,
As God's seasons of life begin.

If I'm too busy to notice,
For behold, the winter is past, 1
No less than that King reminds me,
My time here on earth will not last.

So welcome those winds of springtime,
Reminds us to be at our best.
The storms of life will continue,
That's part of His plan and our test. 2

Though health and long life are welcomed,
And...flowers appear on the earth, 3
Remember, that's showing us proof.
After death, next comes our rebirth.

1 Song of Solomon 2:11
2 James 1:12
3 Song of Solomon 2:12

"Springtime," Copyright © 2016 by James Brown
Posted Easter Sunday, March 27, 2016

Spring in Texas
By LaTanya Michael

Running, screaming, twitching
I think something bit me
Now I'm itching

Creepy crawlers, snakes are back
Flying, buzzing
The bugs attack

Uncle mosquito has visited again
Auntie fly is my face
With all these bugs I can not win with tissue in my ear I am out of place

Squashing is too gross
Bug spray makes me a murderer
So instead I run but now I can't- I'm getting older

I stumped my foot
I've bumped my head
If I keep going at this rate the bug won't be the only thing dead

So I gather all my courage- put the necessary armor on
Repellent, check -long sleeves and pants
I think I'll survive spring in Texas yet again.

By Helen Currier

Colorful flowers, buds on trees,
Circling around them, bees.
Gorgeous blue skies
Cool nights, stars bright.
Working dirt, planting seeds
Waiting for them to appear,
Wishing for rain so dear. The
tall green grass to mow The
first time, really low. Springs
miracles to gaze They astonish
and amaze. Spring brings the
Easter season The Church
bells ring for a reason
Announcing Jesus Christ is
alive He is Risen. He is Risen.

"Spring," Copyright © 2016 by Helen Currier
Posted March 6, 2016


Poetic Prompt # 16
Choose one or more emotions (for example: joy, sadness, fear, confusion, overwhelmed, etc.) - preferably one that you have recently experienced or are currently experiencing - and write a poem around that theme.

Responses to Poetic Prompt # 16

By LaTanya Michael














"Lost," Copyright © 2016 by LaTanya Michael
Posted February 10, 2016

By Glenn Currier

The sunless clouds hang like dark dread
about this space above this bed
they squelch the hope that once I had
for this dear brother and this dad.

His life returning to my mind
the laughs and hurts we left behind
regrets no longer worth travail
I'll leave them on the dusty trail.

For now I look above the bed
the clouds are parting overhead
I see our mother praying there
hear Dad is sawing wood somewhere.

Beyond this space beyond this time
beyond the steepness of this climb
there lies a lake and silver trees
and meadows braced with cool clear breeze.

It is right there that he will dwell
where love and grace and Spirit swell.
The clouds have parted from this night
let us now bathe in his bright light.

"Beyond," Copyright © 2016 by Glenn Currier
Posted February 3, 2016

Poetic Prompt # 15
Write a poem about a military veteran or veterans.

Poetic Prompt # 14
Write a poem about a military veteran or veterans.

Poetic Prompt # 13 Submitted by John Call
Sometimes less is more. The haiku and senryu are very brief, but suggest so much more. Try writing as brief a poem as you can, using any style and subject you wish. Don't worry about conforming to traditional haiku or senryu rules. If you want to write an explanation (as John did) you may do so, but it is not necessary.

Here are two of John Call's responses:

  1. (a two word, two syllable senryu John wrote for the caption of a photograph of his wife holding a koala bear)


  2. (a two word haiku with four syllables John wrote last spring during the storm season)


Responses to Poetic Prompt # 13

By LaTanya Michael

Sweet rain, falling down
Sunshine take your bow
We have a new star now
Sweet rain, fall down


Impromptu Prompt: Write a Halloween poem...

Breath of Oxygen
By James Kenneth Blaylock

lost out in stark darkness of the woodlands
she fearfully takes a brief breath of oxygen,

the overwhelming urge to scream taunted
her otherwise sane psyche - she sweated

where was she and how had she gotten to
being here, nothing was at all recognizable

but soon the earth began to rumble under
her already shaky feet, her heart trembled

something strange was digging itself upwards,
this pierced her every hot pulsating emotions

then she realized that what were happening
there before her unblinking eye sockets was

in fact, old cold decaying bones rising toward
the shine of the midnight hour's summoning...

the fleshless ones appeared to see her upon
exiting their tomb of roots, sorrow, dirt, rot

they gathered together within a filthy huddle
before hard charging unto her solo direction

they moved so effortlessly as a football team
teeming across a fan cheered overkill victory

there was nowhere for her to go, nor escape
but right then the alarm clock buzzed a door

"Breath of Oxygen," Copyright © 2015 by james kenneth blaylock
Written 10-11-15 Posted 10- 27-15

Editor's Note: The above poem is a response to the editor's request for Halloween poems. Thanks James. This is a goodie. You had me hooked from the beginning. I was putting an anchor on your poem and noticed that the first letter of the title words is: boo! Cool man.

Happy HalloweenImage: Halloween Pumpkins
By James Brown


When I was young on Halloween
I always loved the clowns.
For spooks and goblins seemed so sad,
And all they did was frown.

No skulls or spiders scared me much
Nor bloody arms or head,
For Momma would have washed them off,
And put them right to bed.

Here's happy Halloween to you,
I hope throughout your life,
Though spooks and goblins try their best
To scare you bad with strife.

Please keep these thoughts and have good cheer,
Towards those who wish you harm,
A pleasant face and friendly smile
Is great to them disarm.

'Happy Halloween," Copyright © 2015 By James Brown


Poetic Prompt # 12

Happy Halloween
By James Brown

When I was young on Halloween
I always loved the clowns.
For spooks and goblins seemed so sad,
And all they did was frown.

No skulls or spiders scared me much
Nor bloody arms or head,
For Momma would have washed them off,
And put them right to bed.

Here's happy Halloween to you,
I hope throughout your life,
Though spooks and goblins try their best
To scare you bad with strife.

Please keep these thoughts and have good cheer,
Towards those who wish you harm,
A pleasant face and friendly smile
Is great to them disarm.

'Happy Halloween," Copyright © 2015 By James Brown

Instead to Give
By Glenn Currier

They say that you were man but also God
but when you're hanging there upon the cross
if God - it seems to me completely odd
that you would freely pay so high a cost
without a sword or lightning bold to kill
those men of worldly power and domain,
that you would not assert a forceful will
escape that hill avoid that ghastly pain.

They say you resurrected from the grave
they saw you walked and ate and spoke with them
I think you rose the moment that you gave
your life and did not kill the soldiers then,
the day you asked your Dad to let you live -
in your humanity you thought he'd left -
but showed us how to choose instead to give,
those times we feel so selfish and bereft.

I think the Spirit of your Father comes
when every fiber of our being screams
when all we hear are pain's repeating drums
we're sure we know we'll not fulfill our dreams
but then we choose to sacrifice our will
to die a little to our heart's desire
to rise to find our God atop our hill
and pierce our darkness with your Sword of fire.

"Instead to Give," Copyright 2015 by Glenn Currier

Poetic Prompt # 11


Image: Catepillar - hummingbird moth   Image: Catepiller - hummingbird moth - 2 

Image: Hummingbird Moth

Evening Moth
By Glenda Henderson

Little hornworm on my penta,
Eating leaves and flowers,
Soon you'll be a hummingbird moth
Seen in evening hours.

You strip my plant down to the stalk,
But it will recover fast,
As you're sleeping in your cocoon
Before you emerge at last.

Then you'll return as a sphinx moth.
You will fly far and wide.
You will be drinking the nectar
The plant's flowers provide.

You'll lay your eggs in a safe place
And you will become dust.
After winter, your offspring will
Seek my penta, I trust.

"Evening Moth," Copyright c 2016 by Glenda Henderson
Posted August 9, 2016


I watch inconspicuously with curiosity I land
By Mark Earl Dykstra

I watch inconspicuously with curiosity I land.
High I am, leisurely perched.
Be good or bad, he called himself a poet,
for the right words he fought and searched.
Hours paced in frustration, thesaurus in hand,
but will those who read it ever understand.

"Finally!" he shouts,"It's just right."
Tears streamed the face of hard lines that night.
"Yes, it's the right message.
But Is it to subtle, to sublime?"
Into the broken mirror he stares.
a reflection of whom he used to be in past times.

The poet lingers, unkept from days unable to sleep,
Grabbing the bottle, swallowing hard the liquid will.
"Other than me, will anyone ever know?"
Falling back upon his bed, whispering still.
The city awakens to begin anew
I fly to the open sill , to grasp a better view.

A silent thief of wind, the poets labor it stole.
Through the window, set adrift to the earth below.
A lone walker glances a hurried look,
To read the fallen note to what time this must have took.
To what cost to have only been lost this beautiful message
Repeating the lines to memorize the poets unsigned passage

"I watch inconspicuously with curiosity I land," Copyright © 2015 by Mark Earl Dykstra
Posted October 19, 2015

Orange Spotted Bump
By Glenn Currier

His right hand was in his left
looking up from his thumb
his footsteps swiftly deft
we stepped back to let him come
we opened the restaurant door with concern
for the man looked sort of intense
did he have a cut or burn?
We were all in suspense.

Then I saw the small orange bump
the crawly bump moving slightly
I thought I saw the bump jump
but the man was stepping sprightly,
a smile arising on his face.
And as he saw the light outside
he quickened his steady pace
his eyes were gaping wide.

Now he was almost at a run
his hands held higher and higher
the man reached for the sun
the orange bump became a flyer
its spotted wings unfurled
now the orange bump flew with glee
back to its beautiful natural world
and the lady bug was gone, it was free.

Author's Note: This poem was read at the farewell dinner of Poetry in Progress - September 14, 2015

The Elegant Dragon Fly
By Helen Currier and Glenn Currier

Special creatures are we dragonflies
in our swift flight we sink or rise
back and forth left and right
no insect prey escapes our sight.
In a life-rich pond my life began
then I traveled onto land
but my true joy is in the winds
I do not bite or sting my friends
and some remark on my agile display
you humans say it's a lively ballet
you see in my iridescence
happiness and purity of essence
you say I live life without regrets
and see life's meaning in its depths
but in the millions of years on earth
each flight I take is an airy rebirth
so when you need to leave the noise
come watch my elegant wings - their power and poise.

Author's Note: This poem was read at the farewell dinner of Poetry in Progress - September 14, 2015

By James Kenneth Blaylock

with his arched arms
he lifts high a prayer,

watching the old world
through plain cold view

chasing prey though-out
so many temperate days

longing for sexy caresses,
but not losing one's head

"Mantis," Copyright © 2015 by james kenneth blaylock
Written 8-27-15

The Bee in the Old Apple Tree
By Roland Ruiz

Dedicated: Those in life who have been
stung by a mad bee ( I included ) may they
be reminded to stay clear of the bees that
live in the trees for their sting can hurt
as well as be deadly.

I sat under an old apple tree
just the other day
as I looked up I spied a bee
who was about to stray

He flew between the apples hanging
taking straight aim at me
bracing myself for a good stinging
from this crazed bee

He stung me good which made me mad
I decided I'd better flee
from this bee that is so cad
who lives in this old apple tree

"The Bee in the Old Apple Tree," Copyright August 19, 2015 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written August 02. 2015

The Ant
By Glenn Currier

Have you ever watched an ant
scurrying for food
serving its colony
without pause or question?

Can't blame the ant
for the blueprint
the dictatorship
in its brain.

What excuse
for my scurry
away from the sad fungus
now clinging in the darkness?

Can't blame a brain
premapped and indelible.
A mind yet determined
in its avoidance of what's needed but hidden

in the labyrinth beneath.
What region of my mind
tells me to head out
on the road - away?

Is there a big emptiness
a hole where there is no I or me
a place full of fright
so moist and fluid

it warps whatever self
I thought I had?
Am I no different from my brother ant
and the alloy of its hurry?

Or will I find a momentary Bodhi tree
and learn to sit in its shade
and be quiet long enough
to drink its cool clear water?

"The Ant," Copyright © 2013 by Glenn Currier

Poetic Prompt # 10

Write a sonnet using either the Shakespearean sonnet form or the Petrarchan (Italian) sonnet form.

Poetic Prompt # 9

Write a poem on the theme of gratitude or thanksgiving.

Poetic Prompt # 8

Write a sympathetic poem about someone you dislike or hate - see instructions below.

  1. Write a compassionate poem about a public figure or someone else you know, whom you strongly dislike, condemn, or for whom you have feelings of anger, hatred, or frustration.
  2. Use your imagination to put yourself in this person's place and see him or her in way that might soften negative feelings and judgments and help to develop compassion.
  3. Do not reveal their real name in your poem.

Hal Strikes Out
By Glenn Currier

When Hal was twelve years old
wanting to become a man brave and bold
he went to play baseball in the field
but when there it was revealed
as hard as he tried he couldn't hit that ball
and right there in public he began to bawl.

When he told his daddy, sternly Dad said,
"Hal, you're a sissy!" and sent him to bed
where Hal sobbed and sobbed in shame
cursing that horrible baseball game
and determined then and there
he'd find something he'd do with flair.

And from that moment on
he worked hard until he had won
a speech-making contest.
He was finally the best
at something he could do well
and rose from that horrible baseball hell.

But he'd never lose that inner doubt
and knew deep down he'd finally strike out
and would never meet the measure
or give his daddy the pleasure
of being proud of his son
and what he'd done.

"Hal Strikes Out," Copyright © 2013 by Glenn Currier
Posted January 4, 2013

Author's note: One of my personal and spiritual challeges is to decrease the amount of anger inside of me and to develop compassion for others. It is not very difficult for me to be compassionate toward most people whom I know well, but public figures such as politicians or certain celebrities are a bigger challenge for me. This poem is an attempt to use poetry to develop compassion for a political figure for whom I have had feelings of disgust and anger. I did not use this person's real name.

Poetic Prompt # 7 - The Diamante Poem: A challenge given in Poetry in Progress Meeting June 4, 2012

Write a poem about using the Diamante Poetic form.

  Please click here for information about and examples of the Diamante Poetic Form

Diamante Poems by our poets

Marvelous / Repugnant
By Elizabeth Hobbs

Extraordinary, Incredible
Tremendous, Terrific, Fantastic
Wondrous, Miraculous, Obscene, Repulsive
Detestable, Offensive, Abhorrent
Abominable, Disgusting

"Marvelous / Repugnant," Copyright 2012 by Elizabeth Hobbs
Posted July 2, 2012

Love / Hate
By Helen Currier

Strong Beautiful
Caring Giving Receiving
Acceptance Forgive Selfish Angry
Loathing Revolting Unforgiving
Malice Rancor

Cat / Dog
By Helen Currier

Image: Helen Currier's Cat-Dog Diamante poem


Poetic Prompt # 6

Write a poem about a fruit and/or vegetable.

Spare us asparagus
By Glenn Currier

She said this poetic prompt is dumb
to write about a vegetable or fruit
but just think about the little plum
it's not bright but it's sort of cute.

Or the carrot so orange and slender -
for the eyes it has vitamin A
for the body's cells it's a mender
and it'll make you regular they say.

Celery is the one I really don't like
for its flavor makes me frown
and want to take a hike
on the nearest road out of town.

Cauliflower stinks to high heaven
when I smell it I leave the room
hold my breath for a count of seven
not to take in that horrible fume.

Spinach was taboo to me as a kid
till I saw Popeye get real strong
watched all the heroics he did
and learned that sailor man song.

I haven't mentioned pears or lemons
bananas, mangoes, grapes or peaches
broccoli, green beans, persimmons
or coconuts from tropical beaches.

So don't think it is a curse
to write about oranges and greens
or say there is no verse
in citrus or apples or beans.

" Spare us asparagus," Copyright © 2013 by Glenn Currier
Posted January 13, 2013

Author's note: Recently one of the poets who posts here told me that I would never get anyone to respond to this Poetic Prompt. So I took up her challenge and the above little ditty is the result.

Poetic Prompt # 5

Write a poem on this theme: "Cleaning house"

Grrrr cleaning
By Amanda I. Clay

Oh to clean
It's no dream
Things strewn about
By human beings
Little kids
Make such a big mess
This must be a parenting test
My patience gone
My body tired
I need one of those maids
To hire
I redo it everyday
I'm starting to wonder
The point of a bed being made
Grrr to clean
Not a joy
Not at all when your a parent of two little boys

"Grrrr cleaning," Copyrigh c 2013 by Amanda I Clay
Posted January 3, 2013

Mouse in the House
By Elizabeth Hobbs

If you ever wanted to be a mouse
It's when its time to clean the house

Theres so many good places to hide
To watch them with their brooms and Tide

or maybe I'll go outside and play
and come in at the end of day

When they are finished with their chores
I'll sneak myself in by the back door

Wow! everything has such a good smell
what a difference you can always tell

Theres just one thing I can't find
nary a crumb was left behind

Looking around all over the floor
in every corner even under the door

I think its nice being so clean
but not even a crumb I think is mean

Cleaning House
By Glenn Currier

Kneeling on the tile floor,
with the nail of her index finger
she carefully scratches off three stubborn green spots
ignored from the past.

Lifts the family pictures on the piano
the souvenirs of New Mexico on the mantle
with the buffalo and St. Francis statue
and wipes away three weeks of dusty memories.

Arm muscles straining
she scrubs the black stria
of aluminum pots
left by pressured movement.

With studied swiftness
she wields the vacuum across floors
removing the dirt and detritus
of our daily grind.

I should imitate her.
Clean house
dwindle defects
make room

for a larger grace.


Poetic Prompt # 4Image: Earth-Life

Write a poem prompted by the image to the right





Planet Earth
By Elizabeth Hobbs

From distant space we view Planet Earth
Suspended in the vastness of our Universe

Our souls and spirits marvel at whats revealed
And all of the mysteries which remain yet sealed

As temporary guardians of such vast design
The importance of our duty ever kept in mind

The Destiny of life lies in our hands
Let us not fail to meet the right demands

Poet Prompt # 3

Write a poem whose title has a number, and write about that number.

By Elizabeth Hobbs

Here I am in 2 muddy boots
Stuck way up 2 my thighs
How did I get 2 be in this mess
I find it doesn't help 2 cry

2 hastily I speak my mind
which isn't 2 be always smart
I reveal 2 much for folks 2 see
end result 2 me is broken heart

I'm known 2 be harmless
Theres no need 2 take alarm
The last thing I would try 2 do
is 2 cause somebody harm

You must learn 2 take me like I is
If not, that is just 2 bad
2 me, I is just who I is
I'm sorry 2 make you sad

So I will try 2 come unstuck
2 pull myself out of this mess
If your 2 wonder what is all about
I guess you will just have 2 guess

Love 2 write

Author's note: Some time ago Glenn Currier asked that everybody write a poem using a number as the focus. At that time I could not come up with anything involving a number but now I have and this is it. I am just 2 glad 2 present this 2 you Glenn although delayed.

"2." Copyright © 2014 by Elizabeth Hobbs
Posted July 1, 2014

Remembering July Four
by Glenn Currier

I've read of the blistering Philly heat
our forefathers braved to meet
to declare one nation to be free
of another's tyranny

so in the midst of this summer season
we happily have a good reason
to sing of rockets red glare
see fireworks bursting in air.

Yesterday I got a tear in my eye
when I saw walking by
two guys, one a lot older
with a folded flag strapped to his shoulder.

I wondered why he'd done that,
then remembered: my uncle's hat
emblazoned with the stars and stripes
and his funeral and the bag pipes

that played America and amazing grace
and could see the proud look on his face
as he saluted at the fly-by's roar
to honor his country on July four.

- Dedicated to my new friend, Dave Bates and to Roger Mills

We Three
by Shirley A. Hammond

We Three
Have victory
We are a 3-fold cord

We Three have destiny
My king, myself, and my LORD

We Three
The world can see
We are being brought to glory
We Three - yes us - we Three
We weave a wonderful story

We Three
Have ministry
We live, we love, we are

We Three
Shed lots of light
Shining, gleaming from afar

We have victory
We have destiny
We have ministry
We three

By David B. Bates

Let me see…
A number meaning lots to me?
In the hills, or out at sea.
What, I ask, can it ever be?
Now my mind has found the key!
O it fills my heart with glee!
As I sit on the mountain's lea
Under the shade of my favorite tree
What in the hell rhymes with e-e-e-e?
Got it! The number is thirty three!
Now, yes now, my mind's set free.

Why the number thirty three?
It's the year, dear folks, I came to be.

Poetic Prompt # 2

Write a poem prompted by the picture to the right.

By Kay Parsons

beast of burden, strapped in place
plodding a step-by-step pace.

harness removed at day's end
food, water, touch from a friend.

dreamless sleep until the sun
signals repeat has begun.

man belted and shod in place
push pedal to start the race.

coat and tie off at day's end
drink and war news in the den.

sedated sleep till the clock
startles roll over and rock.

By: Glenn CurrierImage: Mule with buggy

What do you see -
standing there looking at me?

The dip in my back
from the loads I've packed

the silver between my eyes
or the sadness in disguise

a worker for my man
just a dumb creature who can

do nothing but obey
what the reins convey

or the children I took
back and forth from the brook

the family I support
the dreams I transport?

Who are you standing there
in your momentary stare?

I stand here being me
my jot of eternity.

Posted June 4, 2011

Poetic Prompt # 1

Write a poem prompted by the picture to the right.

My arm and my canvas
By Shirley Hammond

My arm and my canvas become one
When I am painting out in the sun

It's hard to find where one ends and the other begins
My arm and my canvas are friends

I am painting a picture that you can keep
Inside your heart, way down deep

While I am painting, why not take a peek
It's a gift from my arm and my canvas

The bridge is my brush
I depend on it much

I use colors to bring blankness alive
If you see the end

You will notice that I blend
And create many new colors that thrive

Check out Shirley Hammond's blog at writeouswriter.blogspot.com

John Call's senryu
By John Call
Image: Painter in French Quarter

does he face a wall
   a window or
      a mirror

Covering Canvas
By: Kay Parsons

the man in running shoes sits,
painting the next to join the assembly line
leaning in rows against the fence.

commerce at the community art fair,
landscapes are the first to go,
easy on both eye and mind.

in the sunshine, wearing a western hat,
brush swiping sky, trees, earth
tension, wild and driving, unknown.

van gogh's self portrait with straw hat,
the eyes that saw sunflowers of the soul.
the artist who dies so that in awe we see.

"Covering Canvas" Copyright © by Kay Parsons

Summer Day
By Elizabeth Hobbs

What a way to wile away the Day
Comfort Clothes, hat to block suns rays

Drawing from inside a delightful summerscape
From soul and mind evolving scenes take shape

Breaking away from weary world of care and woe
Creativity flows so easily, it more than equals Poe

"Summer Day" Copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth Hobbs

Stroking Fantasy
By Glenn Currier

At Jackson Square my small sliver
of imagination paints plowed land
the calliope plays the river,
brush cradled crooked in my hand.

Clods I kicked Monarchs chased
romping dirt mauling shoes
in earthen colors I trace
and strokes of fantasy suffuse.

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