Tag: W3

poetry

Inspired by a Card

Sally6 Comments

Hop hop hop
[CHOP CHOP CHOP]
Paws pause

Hark!
Ears prick up!
[Sniff sniff sniff]

Hmmm…
What is this?
What do I hear?

Hop hop hop
[CHOP CHOP CHOP]
“TIM-BER”!

This is my submission to this week’s W3 Challenge. Poet of the Week, Ange, challenged us to capture a dramatic moment in just a handful of lines — a storm breaking, a glass shattering, a door slamming, a sudden realization, or any instant where something changes sharply or unexpectedly.

You may write in any poetic form, with the following restrictions:

Your poem must be between 5 and 8 lines long. (or maybe 12, if they’re really short!)

Every single word in the poem must be one syllable long.

You are allowed one multi-syllable word — but it must appear as the very last word of the poem.

I was literally staring off into space — or, more precisely, absently staring at the box of paper recycling beside me. This card was on top — a Santa carrying a Christmas tree. I love rabbits; I’ve been observing lots of wildlife in my yard this week– and the poem was born.

poetry

Beach Souvenir

Sally8 Comments

My mica flakes sparkle
In contrast to my blackness
I think that’s why you noticed me
In the water
At the provincial park
In Nova Scotia

You picked me up
And caressed my smoothness
Water is so patient
At smoothing away edges

Well, water and jostling
Jostling against other rocks
The daily tides make us all a little smoother
All a little less edgy

But at my very core
I always sparkle

This is my attempt at a Dinggedicht: a poem that enters so deeply into a thing that the thing seems to speak for itself through image, texture, movement, and sensation alone. That’s the W3 Challenge this week.

poetry

Shucking Peas

Sally11 Comments

Pods
In hand
Peas removed
Bowl slowly fills
Mom’s garden harvest
In her lap as she works
Orange-red sunset outside
Head falls forward [snore] then snaps up
“I’m not sleeping — just resting my eyes!”
Pods in hand, peas removed, bowl slowly fills

The W3 challenge this week was to write a Dectina Refrain in honor of Mother’s Day and be sure to include the word “mother” (or a variation of it).

The Dectina Refrain is a 10-line, unrhymed, syllabic poem with a precise structure:

  • Line 1: 1 syllable
  • Line 2: 2 syllables
  • Line 3: 3 syllables
  • Line 4: 4 syllables
  • Line 5: 5 syllables
  • Line 6: 6 syllables
  • Line 7: 7 syllables
  • Line 8: 8 syllables
  • Line 9: 9 syllables
  • Line 10 (Refrain): Combine the exact text of lines 1–4, in order, as a single closing line
fiction · poetry

The Age of Open Doors

Sally13 Comments

I reached the age of open doors
It was the time to choose
After years of thoughtful mentors
Whose advice should I use?

Door one revealed a scene sublime
Flowery, peaceful, green
The sun had just begun its climb
O’er this idyllic scene

Enticing sunrise pink and blue
The dawn of a brand new day
I stopped myself from stepping through
And looked the other way

A smell came from the second door
Putrid, foul, rank
I looked and saw things I abhor
My heart within me shrank

I knew at once where I must go —
Stepped past the lintel post
And entered not where flowers grow
But where I was needed most.

This is my response to this week’s W3 challenge where Poet of the Week Yvette M. Calleiro prompts us to create a poem that explores a fictional world—utopian or dystopian, your choice. This world must be wholly imagined and not reflect the current reality we live in. Let your imagination run freely.

  • Use 20 lines or fewer.
  • Write about a fictional utopian or dystopian world.
  • Do not portray the current state of our world in your poem.
Life · poetry

Rhyming Recipe for Ikigai

Sally13 Comments

Think of what you love to do
Jot those things down, one or two

Think of skills where you excel
Not half-bad, but really well

Think of things for which you’re paid
Perhaps in money or in trade

Now think of what the world needs most —
Is something there of which you boast?

Where those things meet is ikigai*
Find that thing; your soul will fly

*ee-kee-guy

This is my response to this week’s W3 prompt, which is to:

Write a poem in rhyming couplets (two lines that rhyme) that gives instructions for making something.

Requirements:

  • Use rhyming couplets throughout
  • Give clear steps or instructions
  • Be creative with what the“recipe” is for

Think of it as turning instructions into something memorable and playful through rhyme.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ikigai this week. I have a version of that graphic posted in my office.

Too often, I feel that we, as a society, shove people into a job that meets only one or two of those criteria. Find something that meets all four and you’ll find fulfillment and happiness.

poetry

i sing of Alex

Sally10 Comments

i sing of Alex slender and brave
interjected self to save
a woman pushed
pepper-sprayed
oh, if Alex had only stayed
home (and watched the news)
but instead
armed with phone
(and holstered legal gun)
he reached out to help
(as any nurse would
caring
for the
SUFFE-
Ring)
BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM
agents counted bullet holes
as Alex lay dying
(minneapolis crying)

This week’s W3 challenge is to write a poem that is inspired by another poet.

My favorite poet has long been e. e. cummings. His poem, i sing of Olaf glad and big, is a powerful story that leaves me with a knot in my stomach every time I read it.

Do I love that poem? I love its power. I love its grittiness. I love that poetry can produce a knot in my stomach, and still make me want to read it again.

Faith · family · Life

Serenity

Sally18 Comments

From the time I was young, I had trouble waiting
Always-late-people? So irritating!
Delayed planes and buses — very frustrating
I wished I could be easygoing!

Yes, I was impatient — but wanted to change
So I started to pray (does that sound somewhat strange?)
I thought that I knew what God could/would arrange
Truth is — I asked without knowing

Well, God sent me teachers — one at a time
For a total of eight — tiny, helpless, sublime
This slow learner experienced shift paradigm
While all of my children were growing

Sereneness is seeing the blue of the sky
Feeling the sun, watching bees fly
Being in moments ‘stead of letting them by
Not going faster, but slowing

So I learned to slow down from my children eight
Little knowing, indeed, what was my next fate
Aging parents, dementia, at the next gate
No regrets — just love overflowing

For eight I witnessed their very first day
For two I was present as they passed away
Each one a miracle in its own way
Listen — do you hear the wind blowing?

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

Poet of the Week, Nigel Byng, challenged us to “Write a paean about a moment of personal triumph. This can be something from your past, something you are currently experiencing, or something you envision for your future. The moment should feel meaningful—something that changed you, clarified something essential, or marked a quiet or dramatic victory.”

poetry

Words and Seeds

Sally8 Comments

Words are seeds; seeds are words
They are scattered by the breeze
Who knows where they will go, take root
On land or stormy seas

Words, you know, are regional
They similar to seeds
When they emerge from babe or soil
You glimpse the paths life leads

Our world is global in many ways
People, plants, ideas, thoughts
English full of foreign words?
American English is British ersatz!

Even with our deep deep roots
We are fragile. We are frail.
We are NOT in cahoots
Hoping to see others fail.

Let me welcome and embrace
Those who do not sound like me
Or look like me or think like me
We’re still similar at our base

This weeks W3 Challenge was to explore the theme: Beneath the Surface.

Write in any form, but keep your poem to 20 lines or fewer.

I started with one idea for a poem — but then it took me in another direction entirely. Like a seed blown with the wind.

William Shakespeare, in Merchant of Venice, wrote these words spoken by Shylock:

If you prick us, do we not bleed?
if you tickle us, do we not laugh?
if you poison us, do we not die?
and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

I agree up to the last line. I do not want revenge.

There’s a scene in Searching for Bobby Fischer where the chess teacher is telling the boy, Josh, that he has to hate his opponent and Josh says, “But I don’t hate them.” The instructor says, “Well, you’d better start.”

No, no — he had not better start.

We need to look for commonalities, not ways to win.

poetry

Cuppa

Sally10 Comments

Cuppa
Hands curve around mug
Smell of java, swirl of cream [sigh]
Pink sunrise
One warm sip, this new day begins
The breakfast of champions:
Coffee

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

Write a Cameo poem—a tiny, distilled moment—on any theme you choose.

Form:

  • 7 lines;
  • Syllable count: 2 / 5 / 8 / 3 / 8 / 7 / 2;
  • Imagery is essential;
  • Minimalism is encouraged
Uncategorized

I am a Lighthouse

Sally12 Comments

“I am a lighthouse,” said the child
Hands on hips, feet firmly planted
For one so small he looked quite wild
Wild, crazed, perhaps enchanted

“When I turn on my light,” he stated
Pointing to headlamp on head
“I can change what has been fated
I can warn what is ahead.”

“I am a lighthouse,” said the child
Cars were whizzing by so fast
He crossed through traffic quite unriled
The median strip he reached at last

He stood as tall as eight years let him
Changed the headlamp to rapid blink
Though tears streamed down, his face was grim
As he boldly faced that brink

Police were called, his mom tracked down
(Frantic worry filled her heart)
Traffic there was detoured ’round
His mom tried not to fall apart

Policeman recognized the mom
“Is this the day? Is this the place?”
She nodded, anything but calm
As tears rolled down her haggard face

Trembling she said, “His sister died here.
He witnessed it and hasn’t spoken
’til today after a whole year!
Finally, something has awoken.”

This is my response to the W3 challenge this week: “Be the Lighthouse.”

For this week’s prompt, you are the lighthouse. Write a poem in which the speaker is a lighthouse guiding something away from danger, toward safety, or both.

I struggled with this. A lot.

Finally, this cheesy story came out that didn’t meet the criteria. The author of the poem isn’t the lighthouse. Also, it was supposed to be 23-25 lines. There are a 28 lines up there.