A Letter to My Other Half

Why can’t we

ever agree?
I say yes.
You say no.
I say A.
You say Z.
Some call us
opposites,
but we’re a perfect
match.
You’re the heater
to my cold hands,
the push
to my pause,
the miracle cream
to my wrinkles,
the pen
to my pad.
When we’re
old & senile,
I suppose
then
we’ll see
that
all along we agreed
on everything
between
A & Z.

We Make the Perfect Pack

For today’s prompt, write an alpha poem. Of course, you could write a poem about an alpha male or alpha female (or some other play on alpha this or that). Or you can move into the realm of an alphabet poem–focusing on all 26 letters or just one (or a pair).


* * *

After the Funeral

Your beloved body
parts blur
my routines.
I peel your heels
off my lonely
loaf of sourdough,
curse your face
when you alarm
me that I’m going
to be late,
move your hands
ahead when I realize
we’ve lost time,
run your teeth
through my locks—
split at the ends,
rip the heart
from your chosen
bowl of flourishing greens,
follow bloodshot-red threads
to your cavernous eye
in all my attempts
to ignore & then stitch
my torn-apart heart
shut.

Time Has Become Distorted

Today's prompt, Day Two (copied from Poetic Asides at Writer's Digest):

And today is actually a special day: Two for Tuesday! Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!

1. Write a worst case poem. What’s the worst that could happen?
2. Write a best case poem. Take the worst and reverse it!

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Meet Me at Midnight (A Poem for Day Two of PAD)

I am participating in the November PAD Challenge, but I am not posting my poems everyday on my blog. 

For today, though, my poem is below.

Here is the prompt for day two: For today’s prompt, write a darkest hour poem. Some people may think of midnight or the witching hour. Still others may picture those moments right before the sun starts gradually lighting up the sky. But the darkest hour could also be a moment in time that is psychological, metaphorical, or some-other-kind-of-cal. And remember the poem doesn’t have to be directly about your idea of the darkest hour; it could be set in it or refer to it.

Why Did We Wait?

Meet Me at Midnight

Waited all day,
every day,
for two or three
decades
for your
summons
to join you
in an exciting
escapade.

Today
was the day,
invitation
arrived,
only it
was for
your burial,
you’re
no longer
alive.

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Framed (A Poem for Day Two of PAD)

Here is the prompt for day two of PAD: For today’s prompt, write a portrait poem. You can use an actual portrait to write an ekphrastic poem. Or think up an image from real life. Or fake life. Or don’t be so literal; instead of writing a poem that describes a portrait, use the poem to frame a moment or lifestyle or whatever. By the way, how many times did I type “or” in this paragraph?

His Family Portrait is Empty

Framed

He’s a fight
that broke out
after a kiss and make up.
He’s a rescue mission
with no survival guide.
He ponders his demise
each morning
while dressing
nine to five.
His dreams
were arrested,
given twenty
to life.

*****

[Please note that all prompts have been copied from the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides website.]

Available in Paperback (Not Today) - Day Two of the April 2017 PAD Challenge

Here is the prompt for day two of the April 2017 PAD Challenge:

Okay, the first day is in the books, and it was a lot of fun. But we’ve got plenty of poeming left to go.

For today’s prompt, write a “not today” poem. Maybe it’s normal to give in to outside pressures, but not today. Or maybe you’re usually very disciplined in your health and wellness habits, but not today. Or maybe you struggle to write poems, but not today.

He Envisioned His Unwritten Book on the Shelf

Available in Paperback (Not Today)

On sale! Cheap!
Seventy-five thousand words.
(Assembly required.)

There was a pile of words,
disassembled, trying to make
sense, pass along a message
in their mess.

The writer longed to call
the story written, but instead
became smitten with endless
editing and coffee addiction.


***

A Round Conversation (a Poem for Day Two of the April 2016 PAD)

It’s April! Yes, that means it’s time for another April PAD Challenge with Robert Lee Brewer (of Writer’s Digest). 

The challenge has a new format this time and (not related to the new format) I’m already behind. In any case, here is my attempt at the Day Two poem, write a “he said, she said” poem. I guess I had R. D. Laing on the brain.

We Go Round and Round

A Round Conversation

She stretched
out on the couch.
“Why isn’t sharing my
artificial dreams enough?”

“Because everybody”
—he yawned—
“ends up more captivating
naked, running home—”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry?”

She winked. “Want to live
in these pages?”

“Ask me about a free mirror
look, the reality . . . decreases
the ability to provide
temporary relief, make—”

“Love?” She smiled.

He shook his head. “Make
your . . . space . . . your own.”

A hummingbird hovering
outside caught her eye. “Why
are you so official? It’s unnatural.”

“Wasn’t it you that asked me about
your artificial dreams?”

“Yes, but what does that even mean?”
she asked. “I was just testing you.”

“It means we can talk about two different
things but think we mean the same.”

“Forget it. Just kiss me, and maybe 

I will captivate you.”

* * * * *

The Tin Box inside My Lingerie Drawer (Day Two of the PAD Challenge)

I had a strange day that started with a dream of being attacked by scorpions and then went on to my hearing a reference to the band the Scorpions after I woke up. I did a little research and came up with some interesting conclusions about the meaning of that reference. I planned on writing my poem about it. But my day didn't go as planned. 

So here I've been hiding in my room with my art supplies, trying to dig down to the heart of this prompt. I'm satisfied now. And relieved since it's only day two of the challenge, and too early to be struggling. With my focus on novel writing and editing this past year, I guess I'm out of practice.

"For today’s prompt, write a secret poem. The poem itself could be a secret, or it could be about keeping secrets or, I suppose, not keeping them. Or maybe it’s about a top secret project, or the poem is a riddle with some sort of secret meaning. Or, well, I’ll let you figure out how best to poem secretively."

 

Scribbled Meditation 

The Tin Box inside My Lingerie Drawer

Imagine

having nothing to hide,

no tin box of unspoken words,

no love notes

thrown together

from being part

of something badass,

no love and lack

of sleep
intermingling

inside the container,
promising that happiness is like
a kiss, but leaving pieces

so puzzled there’s no putting

them back together.
Imagine
having nothing to hide.

*****

I hope to get better about posting links here! Long day!

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