Wake Up Dreaming

I grew up in the 60’s along with the Beatles. I was 11 years old when they made their debut on the Ed Sullivan show. I followed them faithfully. In 1971 John Lennon introduced “imagine”. Funny, today I can’t imagine why I ever liked the song. Who wants to imagine there is no heaven? Really, is this as good as it gets, and its all up to us? Look how long we’ve been at it?

Now, it is funny how words are so hard to shake. When I woke up from my nightmare, I saw through different eyes and heard a different song, albeit the same words, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”

Now I can sing “I can only imagine”. I want every dream to outlast my every night. I say, “If you’re a dreamer, come in.

dversepoets.com prosery! Up to 144 words without the title. Incorporate a line from a poem into fiction, non-fiction or flash fiction prose. The poem is “the invitation by Shel Silverstein, (one of my favorite poets). The line is “If you are a dreamer, come in.”

This is non-fiction, and most of you tolerate me. I still like many Beatle songs. This is exactly 144 words.

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No More Lists

I slept and dreamt
My list written
In calligraphy
Against a pastel horizon of citrus hues
Limes, oranges, lemons
Sweetest pink grapefruit

I awoke to ominous shadows
And the distant sound of wind
My fruit rained her acid
My letters ran unintelligible to all who saw
I said I woke too early

The background now a midnight sky
Blood red written letters cry
A living Hope shreds my list
Like pollen floats down
Spring brings redemption
To this barren ground

Napowrimo.net Day 9. Write a prompt about your to-do-list

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Useless Dialogue

I spy this body of mine
And ask
“Why now do you speak?
Were you not content for many years?

Knees and shoulders carried me without complaint
Eyes led me
Ears informed me
Hips served me as I brought forth children
Now you complain
Did I not praise you well enough?

Oh well, someone counts even the hairs of my head
Living strands won’t hurt me, but die silent
Superfluous, then sparse, only changing hue

If the silent are cared for, how much the noisome?
We all would age better without your whining

dversepoets.com prompt. “Write a poem about the body parts (e.g. eyes, hands, feet) as a metaphor and/or story.   It doesn’t have to be about your body or family’s history (from the first person experience), if this makes it uncomforable for you.   You can write about the body’s experience of someone else (from a third person narrative perspective).  You create the mood – serious, or sad or sexy, or funny or filled with nostalgia.”

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No Audience

I laughed at you
But I was deaf as you were timid
I heard not your tears
I knew not I was pounding nails
Over your head
Now that I’m here
You cannot hear
Six senses aren’t enough
For remorse
I cannot say where I am
Cause no one hears
From either side
All I can do is nothing

Napowrimo.net Day 8 Write a poem in the form of a monologue of a dead person. Not a famous person, but an acquaintance, or relative or anyone from your past.

The imagined monologue of a boy in my high school class who fell off a roof he was shingling and passed away about five years later. I knew very little about him then. Only that he was working his trade.

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Tiny Treasures

Spring
Wings
Nestle
While babes sleep
Tiptoe lightly by
Shells break in dawn, with hunger cries
Mother’s ear is keen, she provides
Predators disguise
Wait in patience still
In due time
Strong wings
Soar
By

Napowrimo.net day 7. “The Fib is a six-line form. But now, the syllable count is based off the Fibonacci sequence of 1/1/2/3/5/8. You can  link multiple Fibs together into a multi-stanza poem, or even start going backwards after your first six lines, with syllable counts of 8/5/3/2/1/1. 

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(Untitled)

Bread

Delicious, wholesome
Appetizing, filling, sustaining
Aromatic, sacred, weighty, addictive
Tempting, energizing, activating
Labor, fruitful

Life

Dversepoets.com an interesting prompt. Lisa gives us a choice of 3. Thank God for choices. Pick someone else’s poem and write an opposite version. Pick one of my poems and write an opposite, or (my choice)

“Another way to explore diverging connections between things in poetry is through the Diamante form. It’s got a simple structure:

Line 1: Noun or subject
Line 2: Two Adjectives describing the first noun/subject
Line 3: Three -ing words describing the first noun/subject
Line 4: Four words: two about the first noun/subject, two about the antonym/synonym
Line 5: Three -ing words about the antonym/synonym
Line 6: Two adjectives describing the antonym/synonym
Line 7: Antonym/synonym for the subject”

I hope my offering fits the form.

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Who Loves Who?

We danced
(Only in my dreams)
We sang
(To a different rhythm)
We planned
(I tried to let you lead)
Still here
(Shuffling through this algorithym)

We bear children
(Not so they will love)
We lavish all we have
(Asking no reward)
When do we turn
(Expecting them to pay a price)
Is it still not enough
(The Father’s love for us)

When will it be enough
(The Father’s love for us)

Can it be enough His love for me and you?

day 6. Napowrimo.net

Go to a book you love. Find a short line that strikes you. Make that line the title of your poem. Write a poem inspired by the line. Then, after you’ve finished, change the title completely.

This prompt, which comes from Holly Lyn Walrath, is pretty simple. As she explains it here:

I got my line “I can’t make you love me” from “The Diary of a young Girl” Anne Frank.

I disagree with Holly Ann Walrath, only in her evaluation of prompts. “They all suck”. I have not found that to be true. What is inspiration at all, but a prompt?

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Remembering Wine and Whining

Swirl of bouquet
Siphons through my nostrils
One sip arouses my palate
Solicits every sense to the table

White, red, pink, sangria, noir
Wine poured begs more
Of me

Wandering in the sweet
Abandoned in defeat
Loss too great

Make it iced tea, please

dversepoets.com Monday quadrille. Exactly 44 words excluding the title. The word is wine.

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The Way of Beauty

Obsidian shines smooth
Wedges of fire and ash
Ice over quickly from
Infamous squalor to beauty
Crimson blood I recall (only in my mind)
Tainted with spit and gall
Tormented and loathed yet
Obedient and staid
Effortless now I breathe
Angst dissipates
Perfect peace I wear as jewels around my neck

napowrimo.net day 5. I used the poem Pennsylvania (link below). Perfect poem for cooling the burn within me today.
This prompt challenges you to find a poem, and then write a new poem that has the shape of the original, and in which every line starts with the first letter of the corresponding line in the original poem. If I used Roethke’s poem as my model, for example, the first line would start with “I,” the second line with “W,” and the third line with “A.” And I would try to make all my lines neither super-short nor overlong, but have about ten syllables. I would also have my poem take the form of four, seven-line stanzas. I have found this prompt particularly inspiring when I use a base poem that mixes long and short lines, or stanzas of different lengths. Any poem will do as a jumping-off point, but if you’re having trouble finding one, perhaps you might consider Mary Szybist’s “We Think We Do Not Have Medieval Eyes” or for something shorter, Natalie Shapero’s “Pennsylvania.”

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Seduction

Sugar mingled with saliva,
Softened and pulled into long, wispy strands
A nickel’s worth of taffy went a long ways
Too bad no one told me then about the dentist bills
Or wasn’t I listening

Napowrimo.net day 4. A photo from liminalspaces@spaceliminalbot. This image reminded me of the taffy I ate as a child, too often.

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