Poets United Poets Pantry -- Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Home Again -- The Sunday Whirl -- Sundays Whirligig

Home Again

something happens       it does not matter what                      it is cataclysmic

brings great change in your life      what was before              will never be again

the world you see is different      a new beginning of sorts     your insides have been ripped

blood on the streets        you are left naked                             with no ability to sprout

                                                                                                                    wings

to fly from the scene      your first steps will be tentative        you enter a new age

all that you knew is forgotten     yet you will be stalked         by memories

ugly words spoken        evil lose in the city                            you walk the plains

seeking safety               you look for the red rocks                 ask for clarity

follow the river             leave discord behind                          a new adventure is just

                                                                                                                     beyond

your reach for it            close your hand around it                  you are home again

November 29, 2015

Note:  This week I have tried to put all the prompts together.  For the Writers Digest, November PAD challenge the prompt was:  A poem as an open letter.  The words from The Sunday Whirl and the words from Sundays Whirligig.  I wasn't able to use all the words, but most of them, and to offer it to Poets United.

November 27, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Left Overs

Left Overs

what is left after the event     i come to the studio each day      i am at work

this is the process                  and there is no hurrying it            day after day

one day becomes another      often they appear the same           hard to tell one from another

like grains of sand                  in the hour glass                           one by one

the daily work is the minutia  the detail that becomes                what you see

the left over                             hung on the wall                          this is the process

the daily attention                   a meditative act                            stay focused

remember the task                   like the postman                          it does not matter

rain or snow                             sunshine or shadow                    each part has to be created

and what is left over                we call                                         art

November 27, 2019

Writers Digest November PAD Challenge 2015/ Luxury

Luxury

what is luxury after all         perhaps...                   someone to come home to

a lover                                  a friend                       a partner

a pet                                      loyal and warm          a bed in which to rest

a roof over my head              something good to eat               a bowl of soup

a loaf of bread                       a pair of shoes           a coat in winter

work of my own                    a smile freely given  a hand to hold

a book to read                        a letter from home    safety

health                                     eyes to see                a heart that beats

love confirmed                       given and received   a starry night

a day of happiness                  a memory cherished             thoughts of you

November 27, 2015

November 25, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challange/ Waiting to See II -- Poets United Midweek Motif/Survival

Waiting to See II

waiting to see     father always said      it was me     

still hard to say     it happened     right in front of you

thinking back     in a foreign land     probably not

who can say     poor little match girl     we could walk away

waiting to see     will you see      what I see

think it might be you     hard to admit

hard to know      when it started     faraway

the pieces didn't fit     the story line

as she grew     with matches to sell

waiting to see     will you be able to say

even though you know     the scene played out

it has been as it is     i had nothing to do with it

did you know     she a precious child

perhaps something missing     it is worst

she stands on the corner alone     she belongs to us

November 25, 2015

I have rearranged the poem 'Waiting...,' November 22, 2015 and repeated the lines, 'waiting to see.'  The prompt was to write an echo poem...or something about an echo.

________________________________________________________________________________

Poets United  Midweek Motif  prompt:  Write a survival poem.

Survival

survival is the key word                you felt threatened               insecure

what else could one do                  strike out diminish            the opponent

so like                               a wild and frightened animal      still a little girl

what happened                               survival is your need

perhaps you are about to die         to be killed                            erased

it is hard to tell from the outside   what is going on                 on the inside

scream at the top of your lungs      beg for mercy               is there another way

can survival be accomplished         without killings others      find a place

safe and sound                                 pray for strength          survive if you will

November 25, 2015

November 24, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/November's Love Poem

November's Love Poem

You asked for a love poem...       the sun in the sky      the freshness of rain

the scent of sage after the rain      sunsets on the horizon      the moon aloft

stars twinkling in the sky       the soft muzzle of a horse      and his warm whispers

the companionship of my dog      walks in the forest       coffee in the morning

a good night's sleep      a letter from home      the rhythm of drums

falling snow      a fire in the hearth      your hand to hold

the song you sing when happy      my mothers voice remembered      your final days

and all the days of your life      your gentle heart       the years you gave me

my kitten soft and sweet      antics at play      memories shared

old photographs      picture books       laughter remembered

the smell of paint       the quiet of the studio      work accomplished

 

and a thousand other things i love       my life is rich      because of you

November 24, 2015

Note:  The prompt for the day was to write a love poem, and I've written of some of the things that make my life rich.

November 23, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Chalenge/ prompt was to write an apology poem

An Apology Poem

oh yes     i am so sorry it happened      at first 

i thought      it was a misunderstanding      but upon reflection

i realized     there was no misunderstanding      the response to my words

were as they should be      you did understand     what i was saying

i began to speak     and it was those words      you took issue with

didn’t let me finish    your inability to control    words spoken in anger

hard to forget      what should i apologize for      for breathing

for being     your desire to protect      was certainly understandable

but i had no desire to hurt      from the beginning      i decided not to take part

to see where it might go      the ugly words were yours      i made no response

it seemed to make you more angry      perhaps on that day      i should have begun

by telling you how much i love you     and how much i appreciate you

perhaps that is how we should always begin each sentence      but how could i have known

it was not an ordinary day      there was a terrorist waiting      a land mine ahead

you said you thought it began earlier      but earlier      i patiently answered every question

but grew tired of the questions      and objected      the questions made no sense

seemed intrusive      someone stomped away petulantly      saying 

i was only trying to have a conversation      the sun sparkled on the water

there was a light breeze      later the day grew stormy      there was no turning back

your words      and actions were hurtful      i am sorry

November 23, 2015

November 22, 2015 Poets United Poetry Pantry -- The Sunday Whirl/The Search for the Unexpected --Sunday's WhirLigig/A Snowy Afternoon -- Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Waiting...

THE SUNDAY WHIRL

The Search for the Unexpected

it was late in the evening            the light fell softy                         over her shoulder

as she began her tale                   telling us of finding                      the bits of leather

now unrecognizable                    hard to tell                                    what they had been

little dark abstract shapes            you could hold in your hand         you wondered about
                                                                                                                   them

she said long ago                         the butchers threw scraps              into the thames

when the tide receded                  all the hidden things revealed        secrets exposed

nothing holy there                        only things altered by time            drifting under the
                                                                                                                     water

things thrown away                     waiting to be found                        things from the deep
                                                                                                                     abyss

each day                                      when the tide goes out                   the search goes on
                     
fall is best                                    the weather cool                          sometimes mist

as she told her story                     we lost track of time                   we were hardly aware

just as she said she did                  when searching on the beach       imagination filled in 

                                                                                                                    the blanks       

she told of one day finding            a complete clay pipe once            as she told her story

goosebumps rose on our flesh       just to think of the everyday treasures             

and how she lost herself                on the beach           as she searched for the unexpected

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SUNDAY'S WHIRLIGIG

A Snowy Afternoon

what rhythms are hidden in the snow              so white                            so cold

the whirligig                         in the shape of a blackbird                       spins in the wind

black against white               late afternoon                                           no longer snowing

the light flat over the snow   shadows whistling                  the low afternoon light pierced

by the brilliant setting sun    the landscape frozen                        only the wind is moving

sometimes it picks up a hand full of snow                               and throws it as far as it can

it sparkles in the light           the trees stand in silhouette                           limbs bare

the scene is a pantomime      of other days                                                 all is quiet

__________________________________________________________________

WRITERS DIGEST  NOVEMBER PAD CHALENGE

Waiting.....

waiting to see                       if you will see what i see                 will you be able to say it

my father always said it was me        but i think it might be you    even though you know

still hard to say                     hard to admit                                   the scene played out

right in front of you             you want me to carry the blame        when it has been as it is

for all times                          hard to know when it started         i had nothing to do with it

it seemed to happen in a foreign land          faraway                     did you know

probably not                         didn't fit the storyline                       she a precious child

smart as a whip                    the pieces didn't fit                           perhaps something missing

who can say                         as she grew                                       it has gotten worst

poor little match girl            with matches to sell                          she stands on the corner

we could walk away            and forget                                          but she belongs to us

November 22, 2015 

November 21, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ A Strange Poem Indeed

A Strange Poem

your words audible             i am your father                i am your father

almost a whisper                 a guttural tone                  is it a promise or threat

what do the words mean     where did they come from   who is speaking

my father is dead                 died many years ago        does it speak from the dead

the voice didn't stutter          the words were sure         yet i know not the meaning

this has never happened before    i am your father        i am your father

shouldn't the dead stay dead                not intrude on a sunny november morning

actually tomorrow is the day before his birthday      does he want me to remember

afraid i will forget                i tell the voice                i will never forget

i keep him with me always     a strange thing to happen on the day before his birthday

i say to the voice with love   happy birthday             you are my father

i am your daughter                and so it will always be

November 21, 2015

November 20, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/No Time for Looking Back

relent, horrendous, artifact, lagoon, wobble, and plunder

No Time for Looking Back

i pick it up                            an artifact                             left behind

dropped                              forgotten                               turn it over in my hand

it wobbles                           catches the light                    i am reminded

of the horrendous events   almost forgotten                    the past slides under rocks

hides there                         we have no time                   for looking back

hard to just keep up           hard to stay balanced           our days minutes hours

filled with necessities         things to be done                  interruptions of more serious ideas

thoughts                             reflections                             memories

the present is relentless     in its' demand                       for our attention

the loon cries                      in the lagoon                        a lonely sound

a reminder of another world                           past           present

future                                  what is treasured                  is often plundered

November 20, 2015

November 18, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Questions of the Heart -- Poets United Midweek Motif

Questions of the Heart

lately i have had many questions       the big question mark          hangs above 

                                                                                                                my head

why would a person do something            when their behavior seems so foreign

i have questioned my own actions     when the heat began to rise  i stepped away

the answers form slowly                             like opening cream colored envelopes

tied with blue ribbons                    the years unfold                     memories appear

as if it all happened today         my love has grown           you say we have grown 

                                                                                                                apart

how could this be                     hearts entwined               how is this ever separated

what was mine                         taken away                               your eyes glittered

as you spoke unkind words      perhaps you feel              you were torn

but still                 you marched onto the battle field         took no prisoners

i thought you knew me            the years say                      it is so

your words say                         something different          you show no mercy

all is quiet on the western front                                   my heart lies broken and bruised

the day you walked away         is burned there forever      sometimes

there are no answers                 to the questions                 of the heart

November 18, 2015

November 17, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Ode to Winter

Ode to Winter

the windows frosted       the sky the same color as the land        covered with snow

still it comes down lightly       little birds look for seeds            the world is quiet

bear sleeps in her den      dreaming bear dreams                         of spring

not a sound comes from the valley         the mountains have disappeared from view

i hold you from the cold      i hold you in my heart                     this marks another day

you are gone                  like the mountains                                 disappeared from view

the chores are complete        a time of rest                                   and reflection

i think of you                 my breath catches in my throat   to think this is the second winter

it is true                          you have joined all there is           and all there is reminds me of you

you will be here in my heart          spring summer and fall                        winter too

November 17, 2015

November 16, 215 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Haunted by Thoughts of You

Haunted by Thoughts of You

would you tell me                    if i asked you                            if i asked you

would you tell me                    like siamese twins                    we have been separated

was it a miracle                        an act of god or                         surgery without anesthetic

i remember the pain                 did you feel it                            would you tell me

if i asked you                            if i asked you                            would you tell me

the ties that bind                       cut lose                                      no longer grounded

world spins out of control        to become a memory                 still a treasure to me

would it be the same for you    would you tell me                      if i asked you

if i asked you                            would you tell me                      other friends come and go

the door opens                          softly closes                               the ship leaves the dock

your unkind words echo           did you mean all that you said    would you tell me

if i asked you                             if i asked you                              would you tell me

still i wait for you                     wait for the phone to ring            to get your email

all is quiet                                 the quiet of the dead                    is it the same for you

would you tell me                     if i asked you                               if i asked you

would you tell me                  days and nights haunted                 by thoughts of you

November 16, 2015

Note: This morning I was thinking (haunted) by the poem of Gratitude Stein, A Portrait of Picasso, it has a haunting quality, she repeats the words “would you tell me/if I asked you/if I asked you/would you tell me.” I borrowed the words and repeated them as she did, to give my poem that same haunted quality.

IF I TOLD HIM

A Completed Portrait of Picasso

Gertrude Stein(Hear Stein read this poem) 

If I told him would he like it. Would he like it if I told him.
Would he like it would Napoleon would Napoleon would would he like it.
If Napoleon if I told him if I told him if Napoleon. Would he like it if I told him if I told him if Napoleon. Would he like it if Napoleon if
Napoleon if I told him. If I told him if Napoleon if Napoleon if I told him. If I told him would he like it would he like it if I told him.
Now.
Not now.
And now.
Now.
Exactly as as kings.
Feeling full for it.
Exactitude as kings.
So to beseech you as full as for it.
Exactly or as kings.
Shutters shut and open so do queens. Shutters shut and shutters and so shutters shut and shutters and so and so shutters and so shutters shut
and so shutters shut and shutters and so. And so shutters shut and so and also. And also and so and so and also.
Exact resemblance to exact resemblance the exact resemblance as exact as a resemblance, exactly as resembling, exactly resembling, exactly
in resemblance exactly a resemblance, exactly and resemblance. For this is so. Because.
Now actively repeat at all, now actively repeat at all, now actively repeat at all.
Have hold and hear, actively repeat at all.
I judge judge.
As a resemblance to him.
Who comes first. Napoleon the first.
Who comes too coming coming too, who goes there, as they go they share, who shares all, all is as all as as yet or as yet.
Now to date now to date. Now and now and date and the date.
Who came first Napoleon at first. Who came first Napoleon the first. Who came first, Napoleon first.
Presently.
Exactly as they do.
First exactly.
Exactly as they do too.
First exactly.
And first exactly.
Exactly as they do.
And first exactly and exactly.
And do they do.
At first exactly and first exactly and do they do.
The first exactly.
At first exactly.
First as exactly.
At first as exactly.
Presently.
As presently.
As as presently.
He he he he and he and he and and he and he and he and and as and as he and as he and he. He is and as he is, and as he is and he is, he is
and as he and he and as he is and he and he and and he and he.
Can curls rob can curls quote, quotable.
As presently.
As exactitude.
As trains.
Has trains.
Has trains.
As trains.
As trains.
Presently.
Proportions.
Presently.
As proportions as presently.
Father and farther.
Was the king or room.
Farther and whether.
Was there was there was there what was there was there what was there was there there was there.
Whether and in there.
As even say so.
One.
I land.
Two.
I land.
Three.
The land.
Three.
The land.
Two.
I land.
Two.
I land.
One.
I land.
Two.
I land.
As a so.
They cannot.
A note.
They cannot.
A float.
They cannot.
They dote.
They cannot.
They as denote.
Miracles play.
Play fairly.
Play fairly well.
A well.
As well.
As or as presently.
Let me recite what history teaches. History teaches.
 

November 15, 2015 Poets United -- The Sunday Whirl Wordle #225 -- Sunday's Whirligig #33 -- November PAD Challenge Writers Digest/ War is Your Ritual

The Sunday Whirl Wordle #225: scrape, scramble, peck, looks, freeze, brim, left, laugh, silent, dish, seven, nameless

Sunday's Whirligig #33: shack, fingernail, round, overalls, smoke, window, grimy, tongue, war, poor, friends, flare

Writer's Digest: Day 15, prompt: write a ritual poem.

Poets United  Poetry Pantry #278

War is Your Ritual

your look freezes           the heart of the other                 your eyes glitter

beneath the brim of your hat      temper flares                 hateful words fall

from your tongue           like a fingernail                scraped across a black board

those who were once friends      now become your enemies       you believe the worst

withhold your love        no longer laugh                         declare war

the windows in your shack become grimy with smoke        infractions remain nameless

seven years have passed        or so it seems             actually only a short time

your overalls dirty from warfare                              war is your ritual

it is how you play the game       the world between us is silent               i wrote to you

a letter blue                                 tried to tell you                   how i was for me

but the merry-go-round               just goes round and round                   no beginning

no end                                  holding on to your position        like this present moment

we also slowly fade away         in a million years                it won't matter who was right

November 15, 2015

November 14, 2015Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Art

Art

what is art after all        it is something              i have been doing most of my life

art is to explore             it is to imagine              art is to visually solve a problem

it is to rip the covers off the heart                to expose the soft underbelly of the soul

art inspires                     art renews                    shows us another way of seeing

there is no right way to do it                              or the right way is your way

as individual      as your fingerprint      it is a visual language like poetry without words

...or maybe with words            made of line                    form

value                              texture                                       color

maybe a million other things        there are no rules about what the artist uses to make art

still there are rules about design     the carrier of the meaning   today's art is not yesterday's art

it is a visual response to the world around us     what is created today      is created for today

not judged against what was created yesterday      art is a personal statement         unique

it should take our breath away           carry us home                ride the magic carpet

November 14, 2015

November 12, 2015 Writers Digest November Pad Challenge/ After -- Poets United Midweek Motif/ River

After

after you                  no please                       after you

something cruel      happened that day         i didn't believe

it could                   surprise                          what is least expected

walks through the door silently                     you walk out

November 12, 2015

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River

we are 60% water           the river runs through us           silently

without water                 we quickly perish                      disappear

cease to exist                  in reality                           we are a drop of the sea

a small part of the whole       long to return             to where we come from

stand at the edge            call your name                   call my own

the waves come to shore       circle my feet             remind me of home

the taste of salt is familiar       the river runs through us                  silently

November 12, 2015 

November 11, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/Fall in Taos

Fall in Taos

tarantella marches lockstep to the gorge     happens every fall      they are on the road

in the sage brush                         returning home                        the trees partially bare

still golden leaves fall                 like a ticker tape parade          liter glitter in the air

scattered on the ground               like gold coins                        the wind moves them

they settle in a heap at the curb        have you ever met a wolverine by the road

in the time between dusk and dawn     huffing and puffing         face all red

snarling and spitting                  looking for a fight                      mad as a wet hen

you never know about him        his moods change as quickly as         texas weather

it is best to simply keep walking                             blue sky sharp as a blade

butterfly descends                      gentle as a kiss                 seeking the season's last flower

November 11, 2015

November 10, 2015 Writers Digest November PAD Challenge/ Techno-peasant

Techno-peasant

being a techno-peasant      technology is difficult      yet i find myself in a techno world

i work on the computer daily   talk on my phone       still i am alien to this world

young people know      are way out in front               go everywhere without fear

shop                    check spelling and definitions         wikipedia

in my day           we looked things up at the library    never thought

we would have the library at home     or on the phone or        on your watch

the world flies by too fast for me      slow down          have a cup of tea

tell me how you feel    smell the bindings on the books          are kids smarter today

i think so        or they have access to more info           being the turtle in the race

i just try to stay afloat       come from behind               try to remember what i wrote

November 10, 2015

November 9, 2015 Writer Digest November PAD Challenge/Mistakes

Mistakes

mistakes       my life is filled with them          they are the building blocks

of my existence        right from the start         when given a choice

i made it       without too much contemplation             always selecting

what i hoped       would be the right decision      the best option

my guide             has always been                      do no harm

still          there have been some choices            that i can say were mistakes

even so        each has been an opportunity        to learn a lesson

sometimes the scenic route    has been           best for me

other times     the direct route                  some choices have turned out to be

circles within circles      each mistake or brilliant choice      has been my own

November 9, 2015

November 8, 2015 Sunday's Whirigig/ Great Expectations -- November Pad Challenge Writers Digest/Color Me Blue -- Poets United

Great Expectations

bear hibernates in winter                suggests                            it is a good time

for going inside                              checking in                        on our deepest selves

looking at where we have been      during the past year           spring summer and fall

 each year                                        can be seen as a journey     perhaps we begin the year

 with a happy swagger                    and great expectations        soon enough

 we are overtaken                            by sorrow                            a companion 

 that comes into every life               yet by some miracle            mysteriously

 we find the strength                        to continue                          greet each new day

 or we swivel and die                       like spring flowers              so i will follow bear inside

wait for spring                                 when all is shining             and new again

November 8, 2015

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Color Me Blue

in the quiet of my room            i find myself submerged in           thoughts of yesterday

some of these thoughts             are weighted with sorrow              yet i do not allow them

to burden me                             i think of other things                     more immediate

i think about color                     how it vibrates when one color           is next to another

how to change a color                how it can become more red              and still stay blue

or go all the way to purple         i am lost in the ideas about color        almost everything

we see                                        can be identified as a color           variations on a theme

lighter or darker                         brighter or duller                    i look for these vibrations

beneath it all                               other thoughts are still with me    i think of you

November 8, 2015