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 More poems for Promptly Poetry, stuffed into this book because I have reached my limit. |
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Prompt: (verb) to move to action Promptly: (adverb) : very quickly or immediately Poetry: a form of writing that no one ever reads |
Such tiny hands and tiny feet a tiny thumb in your mouth so sweet With just a turn of your secret key you squirmed in my arms like a real baby I remember Thumbelina, showing you to Grammy how amazed she was to see you move. “Nothing like that in my day” she might have said. I don’t remember exactly. I was five and all I have is the memory of you in her arms, one photo of you and me on that Christmas morning, and the name of the dog that chewed you up and killed you. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)"  Prompt/Week # 38 Write a poem about your favorite childhood toy. |
| Options you offer options to change my world to regulate the environment with a touch of a button. DRY or COOL. Temperature and humidity in Celsius or Fahrenheit set for now or later. Timed for comfort you offer ultimate control. But your unit is gone a victim of its own usefulness worn down by demands. No air hums over its louvers it no longer responds when you call to it. Disconnected, still you read the room. It’s eighty-six you tell me but I know that’s wrong Your batteries are weak. so you cannot be trusted. I will put you in the drawer, just in case. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Prompt/Week # 37 Pick any object in your room. Now write a poem describing this object. |
| We’ll tell everyone we live in France in a stately villa by the sea. From the city we did flee, to the land of love and romance. We’ll tell everyone we live in France. Tell them how lovely life can be how our hearts are finally free. A life of wine and song and dance. We’ll tell everyone we live in France. Happiness there is a guarantee each day we play in the spray on a spree, the night’s lull is a heavenly trance. We’ll tell everyone we live in France. Though it’s a dream, we both agree even if we must wait till we’re retirees someday, we’ll be bold and take a chance. We’ll tell everyone we live in France. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Week 36 ------Poetry Form: DANSA Here are the guidelines for writing the dansa: Opening quintain (or 5-line stanza) followed by quatrains (or 4-line stanzas) The opening line of the first stanza is the final line of every stanza, including the first Rhyme scheme in the opening stanza: AbbaA (capital A represents the refrain) Rhyme scheme in all other stanzas: bbaA No other rules for subject, length, or meter. One additional PPC rule for this one: a minimum of 13 lines (3 stanzas per the above rules) |
| It’s the artist’s dream - echoes of footsteps tapping on cobblestones poetry in percussion. Strangers sipping wine, spilling secrets, sitting at tables beneath his window. A room above the cafe, not quite an attic but suitably rustic, the atmosphere should write itself, yet the pages stay stubbornly blank. He opens another bottle of wine, perhaps, he has not suffered enough. Soon, soon. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Prompt - Image of a narrow street and cafe in Italy, titled La Dolce Vita |
| Winter took my little hope and buried it deep beneath the snow unspoiled, untried, on ice it kept dreamless and still while it slept. Spring stirred its slumbering passion newly clothed in flamboyant fashion nudged that hope from its dormant state but for full bloom it had to wait. Summer mornings with dew that glisters increase the heat until it blisters hope raises up in this incubation no longer hidden in isolation. Autumn cools its hot desire the trees wave flags of leafy fire each hope takes flight, then descends to slumber ‘neath the snow again. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Prompt/Week # 34 Use the following words in your poem: Winter * Spring * Summer * Autumn |
| It was in a lift that we met he was a stranger, I was strange. I was pressing buttons, in hopes that the scene would somehow change. He cast a quizzical gaze at my constellation of lights, I whispered my secret. “ I know,” I said, “the mysteries of the night.” His face then changed eyes wide with admiration. He listened as I explained the world’s true foundation. “I can stop time.” I told him. and hit the red button to prove it. “Are you a philosopher?” he asked “or a celestial poet?” When the doors finally opened he ran from my sight disappeared like a cloud of smoke into the mysteries of the night Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Week 33 and "PromptMaster !" Week 3 Prompt AprilPromptly Poetry Prompt Use this title for this weeks poem: Mysteries of the Night Promptmaster Prize Prompt: The most absurd thing to say that is likely to make a mysterious stranger think you’re a poetic genius. |
A boogery thing to behold Is my nose running from the cold The snot is bright green But it can’t be seen If I give the tissue a fold Week 32 Prompt - Limerick Sorry,but I have a cold and don't feel springy or limericky, just icky. |
| I dreamed of Spring sprung so newly, Fresh upon my skin like a cool mist, With a cheeky air and a gentle kiss, Making both me and my hair act unruly. I lifted an umbrella as the rain poured down, Proud of my plastic coat and galoshes, I danced to the rhythm of its splish and sploshes, yet wondering, why I was in my nightgown? That is the nature of dreams, you see - strange details and far out notions affecting the brain like some magic potion - Upon waking, I am not even sure it was me. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Prompt - photo of girl with plastic umbrella in the spring rain |
Spring’s an ardent but inconstant lover, She promises the sunrise each morning. Then with peevish clouds and frowns she covers, Its light and the source of earth’s warming. Spring tends to the flowers with which she woos, Shyly offers a tulip with muddy hands, Teases the bees with their sunny hues, And coaxes the crocus from forgotten lands. Spring makes her promises of loving care, Cries soft tears over her tender blooms. Then suddenly, with a petulant air Lifts her skirts and storms out of the room. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" Week 30 - Anticipation of Spring |
One dark and frozen February morn - persistent, but yet faint through double panes - trills the long absent music of birdsong, awaking me with its familiar strains. Emerging then, from my quilted cocoon, unwrapped, but clad in flannel head to toe. Drawn by the sweet warbles of a soft croon, I search for the singer by my window. February, your wind unforgiving steals every warmth the sun strains to provide. Tell me, where can my spring birds be living? Where in this icy wasteland can they hide? By day, they scavenge, preparing their nests, at night, in secret hollows do they rest. Written for "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT " Prompt/Week # 29 Use this title for your poem: Ode to February |
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