Without Sara

Written for:  Creative Bloomings #180
“It’s a Wonderful Poem!”
You are George Bailey. Write a poem of the world without you. Draw on your accomplishments and tell the effect not achieving them had on you or people around you. Tell how your life has touched another in some way. Be boastful. Be self-deprecating. But remove yourself from the equation that solicited the life you have lived.

Humor and laughter
are not up to par
someone seems to be missing

A good friend is hard to find
One less shoulder to lean on
someone seems to be missing

She is an only child, no sister
to laugh or fight with
someone seems to be missing

Men whose sex lives are so-so,
dinners and desserts, lacking
someone seems to be missing

Less heartache for mom and dad
No black sheep, no problem child
someone seems to be missing

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Choose Right

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #192

Words:  always, eyes, snag, panic, sweat, talk, high, choice, help, burn, thousand, perform

Look in my eyes, baby,
a thousand points
of blue. I will help you
burn, get you high,
perform magic with you,
sweat with you,
talk to you, always.
Snag me, make me
your choice. I promise,
you will not need
a panic button.

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

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Ice Skating

Written for:  Carpe Diem #628, Ice Skating

credits:  ice skating in The  Netherlands

credits: ice skating in The Netherlands

Figure eights on ice

Wrapped in scarves and hats, they skate

Best skaters stand out

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.nl/

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I Tell Myself

Written for:  Red Wolf Poems, We Wordle #33

In addition to using the words above in your poem, you are further urged to write in the manner of an interior monologue contemplating the nature of existence. A meditation. An argument with God. Whatever gets your goose. You can draw inspiration from nature and be as desultory as you like (like skipping stones over water) but the overall subject is a deep contemplation of life.

Words:  shallowness, slope, stillness, tobacco, moody, sacred, time, fading, mandala

A small bird
of black and white splashes
in shallow water, breaking
the sacred stillness
of morning. How carefree
birds must be, but they too
have food to gather,
and enemies to watch out
for. They have no time
or inclination to taste
tobacco, or to meditate
on life’s meaning in front
of a mandala.

A pink dahlia,
vibrant in sloping
sunlight, with pockets
like honeycomb.
What perfection of form
and hue. In time, though,
winter arrives, and dahlias
fade like the color
of parchment on cheeks
of elderly people.
They do not live forever,
either.

Better to enjoy nature’s
beauty, savor it–the scent
of each flower, the sounds
made by an assortment of
animals–and not be
moodily wishing your life
away, thinking of what else
you might have been.

http://redwolfpoems.wordpress.com/

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Withered Mums

Written for:  Carpe Diem Ghostwriter #38, “playing again”
Here are the prompts to “play again” from our CDHK history:

Carpe Diem # 68, Winter Grasses
Carpe Diem # 82, Withered Mums
Carpe Diem # 294, Orchids

You may choose which one you would like to use, of course if you think you can write on all three, feel free to do so …

Mums droop on doorstep
Pumpkins are plentiful
Cold Fall winds wither

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.nl/

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Year’s End

Written for: Poets United, Midweek Motif~Music
Match the mood of your poem to the music in it.

Daylight dashes off quickly
these days, leaving long,
dark evenings. Blinds are lowered
early, dogs are more lethargic.

Holidays meld together, as you eat
turkey to shouts of big time sales,
and Hanukkah candles glow
to strains of Ho-Ho-Hos.

Top news stories of the year
flash, best songs countdown
begins. Next year’s calendars
are prominently displayed.

Lavish parties are planned,
reservations taken. Throngs
of onlookers crush together
to watch a ball drop in Times Square.

People’s smiles are too wide, guided
by ads playing Auld Lang Syne,
and demanding that they have fun,
and celebrate a new year–simply the next day.

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

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Coney Island Rides

Written for:  Poetic Asides #289, Write a high poem

The cyclone climbed
to a peak, then raced
down a steep incline,
people screaming
in their seats.

The ferris wheel held
two; four hands gripped
a steel bar. At the top,
the ride stopped–dramatic
pause–then barreled
back down, compartments
swinging.

The cage ride held people
strapped in, and standing
as it spun around. Watching
it made me ill.

My pick? the merry-go-round,
riding beautiful colored
horses while carousel music
played. Gently up and down,
they would move, close enough
to the ground.

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Carousel

Written for:  Creative Bloomings, InForm Poets – Triolet
The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

Painted horses go up and down
Carousel music plays
No one ever wears a frown
Painted horses go up and down
No room aboard for a silly clown
in oversized shoes and nose ablaze
Painted horses go up and down
Carousel music plays

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Bed of Violets

Written for:  Carpe Diem Special #122, Richard Wright’s 3rd haiku “The Violet Beds”
T
he Troiku is a kind of creativity with haiku … in short you have to use every line of the haiku (three in total) as the starting line for a new haiku. The Troiku is created as you have written three new haiku.

Delta violet

“I give permission
For this slow spring rain to soak
The violet beds.”

© Richard Wright

I give permission
to take a break in your day
Gaze at violet beds

For this slow spring rain to soak
the earth of a garden
inhale nature’s scent

Violet beds
their heads three shades of purple
Try to paint vibrance

© Sara McNulty

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.nl/

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In Ruins

Written for Margo Roby’s Poem Tryouts:  Ruins

1] You can go for a straightforward response to the photograph.

2] You can describe a ruin you have seen, either at home, or in your travels; or one that you have seen on television that fascinates you.

3] You can ignore the photograph and the poem except as metaphors for some universal, or personal, truth.

4] You can go with the etymological meaning I gave you.

5] You can do whatever your heart desires, but you know that.

baylee-ruins

Collapse of
a country cabin
in the woods. Bare
as the trees
in a winter snow.
How long ago
did this house
fall to ruin?
A storm blew in,
ripped off the roof,
splitting the walls
into panels.
Right beside it,
a weathered wood shed
remains upright,
catching the light
of winter sun.

http://margoroby.com/

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