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Tag Archives: Poetry
A walk in the park
Some day when life’s edges unravel
go bravely without a backward glance
memories implode cascading in
aromas of apples and croissants
unmade beds siestas “Closed at Noon”
treasures once so carelessly exchanged
tucked into a beaded evening bag
for a stranger to rediscover
dust off at some future antiques fair
reminding passers-by that affairs
have a way of coming to an end
heaven forbid that steely scentless
state reserved for others less loving
one day when we part it will be a
good-book-waiting goodbye a walk in
the park where we’ll leave regret behind
like a roses on our favourite bench
Daily Prompt: Simply Irresistible
Tell us about the favorite dish or food that you simply cannot turn down.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us TEMPTATION.
My something delicious
is marshmallow fishes —
those pink and white squishes
that bend to my wishes.
They dirty no dishes
(don’t even need tissues).
Look them up in Confucius,
who lists things auspicious.
They melt me like kisses
and dissolve sticky issues …
But they ain’t too nutritious.
Daily Prompt: Playtime
Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us PLAY.
For me, the best fun’s not found in playing with our pup
cycling through the Cradle of Mankind
walking the dogs down the drag
taking a horse for a hack
surviving Scrabble or
even swimming. For
me, nothing beats
Daily Prompt: A Bird, a Plane, You!
You get to choose one superpower. Pick one of these, and explain your choice:
•the ability to speak and understand any language
•the ability to travel through time
•the ability to make any two people agree with each other
Photographers, artists, poets: show us POWER.
Communication is the key:
one super power that unlocks three.
By shedding light it would show me
future and past, and possibly
help individuals to agree
and travel through time collision-free.
Then East and West might let it be.
Daily Prompt: Love to Love You
What do you love most about yourself? What do you love most about your favorite person? Are the two connected?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us LOVE.
I love that I am little
because you lift me up
I love that you are wiser
because you show me the way
Perhaps one day you’ll need me
as I now depend on you
to keep shadows at bay
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us TRAVELS.
The furthest I’ve been away from home?
I think that this deserves a poem.
My Buddhist friend gives me a smile
“The eternal present’s not a mile
away” he says “You’re always here
and now.” (We share another beer.)
But measured geographically
the furthest I have ever been
might come as something of a shock
to those of you who read this blog.
[Clue: wearing flowers in my hair,
I bought myself some wind chimes there.]
Not Shanghai, Perth or Timbuktu,
not Auckland, Rome or Kathmandu,
not Ireland, Wales or Edinburgh,
Québec, Toronto, London borough.
The furthest I have ever been
away from home was plus sixteen
thousand k’s from OR Tambo
(Joburg airport) in a jumbo.
Those rusty wind chimes I still own
came all the way from Chinatown,
not from the region of Beijing,
just genuine San Francisco bling.
Daily Prompt: Intense!
Describe the last time you were surprised by the intensity of a feeling you had about something, or were surprised at how strongly you reacted to something you thought wouldn’t be a big deal.
I am home.
Look! Familiar flowers
suddenly far too vibrant
to cram into
my astonished lens.
Less sparrows left to fall
Less bees to buzz
Still students writing verse
This final poem is based on Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins, which appears below.
“to a pensioner”
Margaret, are you celebrating
that the bushveld’s heart’s awakening?
Grasslands, like some angel’s gift, your
old bones must cast off, can’t you?
Ah! As your thoughts grow longer
And reminiscence warmer, stronger
Every day, you’d like to cry
For each new shoot of grass you spy;
Yet you can’t weep, and don’t know why.
Now it matters what it’s called
How else could you tell the world:
All the joy that you have had
All you’ve done, the good, the bad.
It’s their happiness you’ll die for,
Your children’s children that you smile for.
” to a young child”
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie’
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same,
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.