Elasticity
Sometimes those seconds
that seem to last forever
transform themselves into
decades, centuries,
lifetimes
gone in a flash.
Everyone is
simultaneously
a was
and a will be,
waiting.
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d’Verse Poetry Pub
05.09.2024
~ Open Link Night ~
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Single response to two of my favorite Wednesday prompt sites:
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Helplessly Regretting
I wish I could help you, I do.
I hate being helpless, it’s true.
(My regrets are six shades of blue.)
You’re on yer own now, Babe.
I hope that you’ll find a new guy
that can help you much more than I,
not leave you so high and so dry.
(Close your eyes. Make a wish)
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Ronovan’s Ovi Poetry
Challenge #46
~HELPLESS~
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Gerry & Sue Weekly Prompt
Wednesday Challenge
~REGRET~
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Last piece for National Poetry Writing Month 2024…
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The End?
April’s end approaches. The door
into May is close but closed, uncertain:
it may or may not open; might openly
accept April’s refugee poets, battered,
dragging tattered and unrhymed lines
or brace itself for followers of form.
There’s no way to tell, today. Only
May decides. We have to wait and see.
April’s Heaven; it always goes away,
It may give way to a hellish May
For folks like me, well…
You just can’t tell
April was heaven’s heaven;
May may just be May.
It’s Quadrille Monday again at the dVerse Poets Pub; time to create a 44-word poem.
This week, we’re asked to create a poem using the word “Blaze” or some derivative thereof.
Thanks to Michelle (aka Mish) for hosting and getting us started.
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Zero Degrees
all his recollected
Special Needs Students
fire like st jude
at their temples
creep up in the dark
show him their notebooks
walk away smugly to
set the world ablaze
proud to have mastered
finally the alphabet
the counting beyond ten
their own addresses
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dVerse Poets Pub
Quadrille Monday #200
~ Blaze ~
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I’m prompt-free today, but…
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I had to write.
I had to write a moon;
had to write a moon poem;
had to write a poem about the moon
because
I’m full of moon tonight
and tonight the moon is full
and I’m out here, standing, alone,
staring up at the fullest moon
and it’s cold as hell and
I’m well below zero
frozen solid
because
you’re not here
beside me
tonight
Tonight there’s a moon
but I’m full of empty
without you
Weeks and weeks go by.
He says nothing;
does not complain nor mimic the complainers,
neither praises nor condemns, neither whines
nor winces at the constant whining.
Instead,
insomniac, he sits at the keyboard, moaning,
clattering endlessly from just before dawn
until just before the following dawn.
He dreams
and dreams and dreams. Immediately
following the final flash of one particular
August sunset across the long green field
just outside his office window, he heaves
a sigh, leaves the keyboard to gather its
dust, says nothing again to anyone and,
lost in an awful, endless silence,
is gone.
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Quickly’s NaPoWriMo Prompt
04.28.2024
~Absent Mind~
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Thursday.
… the prospect of daylight
tomorrow…
Noises
on the second floor;
the repetitive tiled hallways
echo.
It hurts, hurts.
Even deep Mingus on well-traveled tapes,
even Nocturnes… no use, no use.
Bloody Camel stubs in ashtray
1329 Boulevard
can’t forget
bone pulled from bone,
ancient practice, barbarism…
Another sun, unwelcomed,
will unwind another smothered day;
August will no doubt open slowly:
an ache of air impossible to breathe.
Ten before twelve
becomes a countdown;
One becomes two too soon,
quick as a click.
If and when the morning arrives
a forever pilgrimage begins.
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Sammi Cox Weekend Prompt
Prompt #361 – 04.27.24
~Pilgrimage – 93 Words~
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He’s having a day
that’s been twelve thousand days long
hoping it won’t end
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Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
04.27.2024
~One Day~
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NaPoWriMo – Day 27
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The way that wind lends tension to the kite string
this is how I am without you here and now,
here in the narrowest of narrow spaces.
The way that sand is the mission and fate of stone
so am I scattered without you. Here and now,
in the broken, lightless night, only the stars are fixed.
Tonight the wasted, unreflective moon’s in flux
above an icy earth. Here and now, without you
here beside me, there is no dark so cold, so deep.
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NaPoWriMo 4/26/24
~ alliteration / consonance / assonance ~
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Ragtag Daily Prompt – Friday
04.26.2024
~ String ~
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An oldie (written almost half a century ago) originally appeared in the May, 2000 issue of Able Muse, resurrected here for this week’s Open Link Night #360 at the dVerse Poets Pub.
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The Most I Could Do
–for J Lopes
I watched: her breasts grow large
Her nipples swell her belly
Barge-like ferocious with child
Comes knocking
Like the moon at a midnight door
While angry he at home puked
and swore
Grudgingly she grew. He
Distracted, drunken, sunk
Beyond his own oblivion,
Telephones:
I don’t remember what / if he said:
The phone or he was nearly dead
or dead
And what could be said, then?
What could one say? The day is
Ended? The night is coming on?
What to do?
I offered her a cup of tea;
The most I could do: far more
than he.
Scrambled, Not Fried 