Squeezing an Idea

This is a poem. Using fragments. For Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry prompt. The new one comes out tomorrow morning. So I am posting this just in time. 🙂


Journeying, searching,
Seeking a worthy muse.
Walking through desert’s
Endless dunes.

Will fresh-sqeezed
Brain juice yield an idea?
Are brain waves airy
As cotton candy,
And just as substantially
Void? See, a frown…

Look, the nose
Of a clown!

Burning

A poem in couplets for MVB: Lamp and FOWC: Combination, linked up with DVerse’s open-link night.


Arise, O lamp of dawn,
And let the night be gone!

How quickly the night fell,
That force-fed taste of Hell.

How dark the dead of night;
How dead one leaves that fight.

A combination of
Sleeplessness, dearth of love

Makes one almost give up,
Fumbling salvation’s cup —

Until the sun returns:
Yet how these trials burn!

This Was Supposed to be a Poem…

Today is the feast day of Our Lady of Sorrows, and I do like this day, as it commemorates Mary’s com-passion as she stood by the cross of her son, Jesus. I wrote a couple of poems in honor of the day and worked on a Chaucerian stanza, which I hope to finish soon. It was going to use the word for FOWC today, since I try to be steadfast in responding to prompts and posting poems (see, I used the word anyway). However, today I felt kind of “off” and sad, and then depressed, and thinking too much about this day triggered the depression really bad. I apologize to anyone I took out my pain on today. The person I become when I am both angry and depressed is a shitty person! So anyway, I’ve got no poem for you today. Except for this, coming to my head right now:

Sorrows
Hit my
Insides and it
Takes a toll

Voilà!

Procrastination

This is a décima for this week’s challenge from Ronovan Writes. We are supposed to use the word “oops” in one of the C rhyme lines. Since a new challenge will be posted tomorrow, it would definitely be an “oops” not to write and post one today. 🙂 I did almost forget about it. Also for FOWC: Poor and MVB: Fondness.


Despite fondness to post and write,
Feeling like writing is my core,
Of much time to write I feel poor
Sometimes, all spent, out of sight.

To use time well is oft a fight,
More often than not, I say “Oops!”
But quickly hawk-like my mind swoops
Upon right words, poem is my prey,
As I at last redeem today —
Before the clock flies through more loops.

brown and gray bird
Photo by Jean van der Meulen on Pexels.com

An Important Question

Today’s FOWC and MVB prompts, Scrumptious and Yogurt, fit together well. When I eat in the morning, I usually like to eat yogurt with fruit and cereal. The hard part is writing a poem about that, especially one that is not inane. Sharing with the Writers’ Pantry because why not?


Sunlight through the window
Wakes me from night’s sleeping,
Question after coffee
Maker starts its brewing:
What to eat this morning?

What to eat this morning?
What’s scrumptious to my taste?
Yogurt in a big bowl
With berries — do not waste
Them! — crunchy cereal.

Searching

This is for Linda G. Hill’s SoCS; the prompt word is “where.”


Where is the map?
The map which shows where to go,
Where to go now,
Now that the world is upside-down?

Down go the emotions,
Emotions as volatile as the world unpredictable

Has become — where is this map
Map that no one has?

Old Film

I wrote this for MLMM’s photo challenge #381, and also for yesterday’s one-word challenge, although it’s too late to link up to it at this point.


No contemporary movies
In this old, abandoned place,
Yet how many stories
Might that light retrace?

Which ghosts of the past
Still fill those rows of seats?
Sans knowing these stories,
Is the present complete?

Photo courtesy of Jonny Joo, One Big Photo.

Bamboozled

For FOWC: Bamboozle and inspired by Jeremiah 20:7. I had been waiting for a chance to use that verse in a poem, and this was the perfect opportunity. I’m also glad to have written something for such a fun word. 🙂 I love being a Catholic, but sometimes, like the prophet Jeremiah, I want to tell God, “Hey, this isn’t what I signed up for!”


“You duped me and I let myself be duped” —
Bamboozled Jeremiah was, and yet,
He could not run away. He could not let
Prophetic words from God remain unsaid.
Even if countrymen preferred him dead,
Even if he lamented near despair,
He could not flee his call, nor falsehood bear.

A Faraway Place

This week, we are slanting the paint chips, and I also responded to this prompt, “More than just a place.” Maybe it’s a stretch, but I think it suffices. Also, I did not exclusively use slant rhymes but tried to incorporate a few, whether within lines or at the end of them.


The moon is more than a faraway place,
She among the stars is like a beacon
In a foggy harbor: a kind face she can
Offer. A muse she can provide, kinder
Than Poe’s raven, making the mind more open.

Her presence gives nourishment; she is rocky
So she understands. Sans wheat fields
She yields soul-food, remembering what’s good.
Sometimes she even sends a moonstone,
Reminding the lonely they’re not the only one.