Tag: poem

family

Little League Lessons

Sally1 Comment

Once, twice, thrice
Three strikes! Yer out!
The words sound angry
But they’re just fact
Final judgment on a lone at-bat
The team bench is no haven
Brings no peace
Thoughts of why and if
Dreams of a hero home-run
Realization — none
Game over
Dejection
Until
Kind words from dad
Your swing looked great
Next time
Hope given
Love felt

This is my response to MLMM Wordle where writers are invited to weave the prompt words provided into a piece of prose or poetry. Here are the prompt words: once, three, haven, peace, thoughts, why, angry, if, final, love, none, dream

Life · poetry

A Presidential Weave

Sally24 Comments

At 80 Mom “rested” her eyes
As did Joe Biden — no surprise
Trump “rests” his in many places
Meetings1, funerals2 — sans disguise

Trump weaves a lot (not string or laces)
Mixes lands for US bases3
Iceland? Greenland? Does it matter?
Pinky? PeeWee?4 Meh – same faces

Tic Tac, Tik Tok5 — chitter, chatter
Covfefe6 served on a platter
Would you drive down The Hormuz Street7?
Hormuz Strait all bombs and splatter8

Dumb has a “b”.9 Who knew? How neat!
Dumocrat10 — such a silly tweet
Islamic Republic — Japan11?!?
Defeat him? No! Obvious cheat!

Shithole countries12 we ought to ban
Not Norway, places African
Discuss terms telephonically13
Big nuclear button14. Oh man.

So rest your eyes; the world can see
We’ve become a hostile country
You’re all about making money
This is not who I want to be

Feel free to fact-check me —

1 – One example: at a cabinet meeting on December 2, 2025, Trump was photographed with his eyes closed while various cabinet members spoke. The cabinet members said that he just blinked.

2 – Trump was caught on camera with his eyes closed at Lindsey Graham’s funeral on July 28, 2026

3 – Trump confused Iceland and Greenland at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland in January 2026

4 – At a rally in Marietta, GA on July 24, 2026, Trump compared Jon Osoff to Pinky Herman.

5 – On July 28, 2026, Trump declared himself Number 1 on Tic Tac. I think that’s a pretty small platform. He might have meant Tik Tok.

6 – What exactly is covfefe? He has never told us since he coined the word May 31, 2017.

7 – On July 22, 2026, while addressing students in metro Atlanta, Trump refered to the Hormuz Street.

8 – On February 28, 2026 the Strait of Hormuz was closed by Iran after they were attacked by the USA

9 – On July 16, 2026 (and multiple other times), Trump explained, “Dumb. You take the the B out. Most people don’t know that dumb has a B.” I feel like this is a case of pots, kettles, and the color black.

10 — Trump first used this term in May 2026 at a speech in New York.

11 – Yes, on July 8, 2026, at a NATO summit, Trump refered to Japan in this way. He probably meant Iran.

12- January 11, 2018 in the Oval Office, thus spake the president, who is strongly backed by conservative evangelical Christians, in the beautiful language of noble world leaders.

13 – On April 30, 2026, Trump stated that negotiations regarding Iran were being conducted “telephonically,” noting that this approach eliminated the need for lengthy 18-hour flights for in-person meetings.

14 – On January 3, 2018, Trump tweeted that his “Nuclear Button” was “much bigger & more powerful” than North Korean leader Kim Jong Un’s.

This week, the W3 challenge is to write a funny roast or a strong complaint about a government leader or another person who has power. I don’t know how funny this is. I mostly feel angry.

The poem should use a form called an interlocking rubaiyat.

Here is how the form works:

  • Write between 4 and 8 stanzas.
  • Each stanza has 4 lines.
  • Each line should have 8 syllables.
  • The rhymes link one stanza to the next.

The rhyme pattern looks like this:
AABA / BBCB / CCDC / DDED

poetry

The Creativity Cure

Sally12 Comments

Whatever became of Sir Swellimpedeedoo?
Though his fingers were swollen, he needed something to do —
So he crocheted a chicken
And his thumbs ceased to thicken
Soon the rest of his hands slimmed down too

He didn’t change his diet
Nor did he sit quiet
This much is true!
Idle hands lead to riots
While creativity is so good for you

This is my response to this week’s W3 challenge.

POW, Matt Snyder, challenged us to write a nonsense poem with a specific structure:

The poem must have two stanzas of five lines each.

​Stanza 1 (Limerick)
Whatever became of Sir Swellimpedeedoo? (A)
____________________________ (A)
__________________ (B)
__________________ (B)
____________________________ (A)

Stanza 2
He didn’t ______________________
Nor did he _____________________
This much is true! (C)
____________________________
____________________________ (C)

The italicized words must appear exactly as they are written. The picture is to serve as inspiration.

Life · poetry

Tumbleweed

Sally2 Comments

Roll that dry weed across an empty road
Underscore my dry and empty feeling
So this, this is Wyoming, new abode
So far from home made this place appealing
I couldn’t speak about my need for healing
Although unbidden tears oft spoke for me
No one could understand my need to flee

Turning, turning, and running far away
How do I put this awful thing behind
I set my mind to one thing: learn to pray
So as to focus my intents and mind
To hold the world at arm’s length, yet be kind
Laudably said, “Wrong number!” when he called
Even as I hung up, shaking, I bawled

Tumbleweed, today’s RDP prompt, brings up one very specific memory — 1983 crossing the state border between Nebraska and Wyoming as my (then) husband and I moved there to start a new life.

This poem is a Rhyme Royal, which uses the scheme ababbcc, the lines having 10 syllables each i.e. (usually) iambic pentameter. Rhyme Royal is also sometimes known as the Troilus stanza.

The poem is also an acrostic for RUSSIAN THISTLE. Russian thistle (Salsola tragus or Salsola kali): The classic plant seen rolling in Western movies.

poetry

Sunscreen

Sally9 Comments

Fair and freckled skin have I
Is sunscreen really necessary?
Just one more cream that I must buy
Fair and freckled skin have I
Forgot the sun block; cloudless sky
I look like maraschino cherry
Fair and freckled skin had I
Sunscreen really is necessary

This week’s W3 challenge is to write a Triolet.

In a triolet, the rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB. The first line repeats as lines four and seven, and the second line returns as the final line. We were further challenged to choose a summer moment or a summer theme.

My first question was “Does triolet rhyme with violet or chalet?” I tried to look it up. Three out of four you-tube pronunciation experts opted for the -et ending instead of -ay. There was one tree-oh-lay. Then then options were tree-oh-let vs. try-oh-let vs. trial-et. Go figure.


nonsense · Writing

Sometimes

Sally1 Comment

Sometimes I am lazy
And use imprecise words
Instead of wrens or robins
I just refer to them as birds

Sometimes I can catch myself —
I know what I should do!
But sometimes I say “sometimes”
Instead of “yesterday at two”

This is my stream-of-consciousness ditty brought to you by the prompt “sometimes.”

family · poetry

Gravy

Sally10 Comments

I learned from my mother
Who learned from her mother
Who presumably learned from her mother
How to make gravy
The finishing touch to a homemade family dinner

On the Starship Enterprise
The crew got their food from a replicator
They could order anything they wanted
It came out piping hot or cold, cooked to perfection
3-D printed nourishment

But
Replicated gravy
Made without love
Won’t taste
Right

Star Trek replicator

This is my response to W3 Challenge. Here are the rule which I sort of bent.

Write one three-line stanza poem that brings together a cultural tradition and modern technology.

Your poem can be playful, thoughtful, imaginative, or personal. Each line stanza may contain any number of syllables, so feel free to follow your own natural rhythm.

Structure

  • Line Stanza 1: Mention something traditional from your culture, such as a craft, art form, festival, song, food, or dance.
  • Line Stanza 2: Connect that tradition with technology, such as AI, an app, a digital tool, a virtual space, or a smart device.
  • Line Stanza 3: Show how the tradition and technology can work together, inspire one another, or create something new.

Most importantly, enjoy exploring how the past and the future can meet in just three lines stanzas.

poetry

WYSIWYG

Sally7 Comments

I never speak with candor
My words are lies — not some words, every
I am selfish to my core and care naught for any man
Look! It’s obvious that I’m not who I pretend to be!
Gah! People choose to be blind —

This is my response to the W3 Challenge, which this week is inspired by Emily Dickinson’s famous poem:

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

For this prompt, write a poem in which every line is a lie — except one.

You may take this playfully, seriously, mysteriously, or emotionally. Your “lies” might be obvious falsehoods, gentle self-deceptions, exaggerations, masks, evasions, myths, dreams, denials, or things the speaker wishes were true. Somewhere in the poem, however, let one line tell the truth plainly.

Extra credit: Try writing your poem as a Golden Shovel.

A Golden Shovel poem borrows a line from an existing poem and uses each word from that borrowed line, in order, as the final word of each line in your new poem. For example, if you use Dickinson’s line “Tell all the truth but tell it slant,” your poem would have eight lines, ending with: Tell / all / the / truth / but / tell / it / slant.

family · Grief · poetry

Ode to a Plastic Box

Sally4 Comments

My brother’s ashes
(I only really looked at them once
So my memory may not be accurate)
Were in a plastic bag
In a plastic box.

The bag was held shut
With a twist-tie.
I like to think it was green,
The color of life.

The rectangular box —
Neither orange
Nor brown
More the color of a dead autumn leaf —
Snapped shut
Like a pocket watch
Safely holding time inside.

It stood upright on the mantle
For at least year.

I whispered to it sometimes,
I miss you, Stewart. 
But he didn’t answer.
He smiled placidly at me
From the photograph
Beside the box.

We placed it in the Columbarium —
It seems like only yesterday —
But it was rainy
And spring
Not frosty
And fall

Tomorrow
The man will bring a new plastic box
Because my mother wouldn’t have wanted an urn
Jim joked about Cool-Whip containers
My mother would have liked that reuse
But I suppose it’s undignified
So she’ll have the box
That comes free
With cremation

She always appreciated a bargain.

This piece was originally written 11/18/2015 — two weeks after my mother died. I guess I never posted it because I found it in my draft folder while I was searching the word “miss” — Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt.

Yes, miss is there — “I miss you, Stewart.”

I had looked at Linda’s prompt last night thinking maybe it would simmer during the night, like my mother’s soups used to on the woodstove. She made the best soup. She really did.

In the wee hours of the morning, the only miss I was thinking on was how I was missing sleep. I suppose I could have written a post on that.

Instead, I decided to give myself a hand by searching drafts. I have over 300 of them! This one hit home because I just had a conversation with a good friend (and this is the Stream of Consciousness part of the post.) It went something like this:

Friend: I suppose I should check on (insert person’s name). Her husband’s dying. He’s probably gone.

Me: You should definitely do that. Especially if you want to go the funeral.

[Note: he had served in Vietnam with the man who was dying.]

Friend: I don’t go to funerals.

Me: Even for someone you’ve known so long?

Friend: I don’t go to funerals. I only go to Celebrations.

I confess. I was judgy after that conversation, but reading this piece about the plastic boxes, I was reminded that grief is so individual.

We, as Americans, don’t have just one way to deal with death. Some have elaborate affairs and big funerals. Some celebrate the life. Some cremate. Some bury.

It seems to be a mix of honoring the person who died, and those left behind saying good-bye. I feel like my family did both with funerals.

And it’s Father’s Day on Sunday.

I miss my father.

family · Life · poetry

Coat of Many Colors

Sally16 Comments

Middle son put three batteries
Down bathroom sink drain (C size fit)
Then squeezed toothpaste, added water —
A disaster! I laughed at it

Then there was the time when some sons
Dammed the creek, flooded the backyard
Learning experience, thought I
As I squished through lawn water-scarred

Mud-smeared faces, markered-up arms
Colored on walls even have their charms
We moms take many things in stride
Rather than sound childhood alarms

One daughter cut her bangs real short
Before a family wedding
I shook my head, bemoaned a bit
Not seeing where this was heading

Scissors wielded by this girl
Led me to rethink and relook
’cause next she cut her dresses up
After reading one picture book

Dolly’s Coat of Many Colors
A lovely heart-warming story
Of a patchwork coat made with love
Became more than allegory

My child wanted to experience
To become one with that sweet tale
Seeing all those cut-up dresses
Is the one time I wanted to wail

This is my response to this week W3 prompt. PoW Nancy challenged us to “think about a moment in your life when something truly mattered. Perhaps it was a great success, a hard-earned accomplishment, or a memorable disaster that taught you something important. Maybe you organized a major event, won a competition, survived a family vacation gone wrong, or confidently attempted a home-improvement project that ended in chaos.“

Write about an occasion when you soared, stumbled, or did a little of both.

Guidelines:

  • Use one or more 4-line stanzas;
  • Keep each line to 8 syllables;
  • Maximum length: 20 lines; (Sorry!)
  • Humor, reflection, triumph, embarrassment, and self-deprecation are all welcome.

As always, have fun and make the memory come alive for your readers.

The joys of being a mother