Here is an updated list of my Howling at the Moon poems, published on the wolf moon night.
Index
Howling at the Full Wolf Moon
Howling at the Moon Tanka
Secret Werewolf
Howling at the Blood Moon
On a Moonlit late-night
Howling at the Moon
Lunatic howling at the moon
One Crazy Moonlit Night
Full Moon Lunacy
The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
Howling with the dancing moon
The Pink Super Moon
Wolves howling at the moon
Woman Howling At The Moon
Maria Lee Off Balanced Madness
Moonbeam
Articles
Howling at the Full Wolf Moon
Sam Adams
went out drinking one night
ending up twenty drinks too sober
as the last call for alcohol rang
he looked up and saw
the lunatic light of the full moon
moonbeams beaming at him
he runs outside
howling at the moon
dying
When a drunk driver
ran him over.
Howling at the Wolf Moon Rising Over the Chao Praya River
As evening set in
On a typical Friday night
In Bangkok.
The denizens
of the cosmos bar
In Soi Cowboy.
A motley crew
from all over
The world, and locals too.
Lust the common
International language.
Began drinking
With their buddies.
the notorious
Jack Daniels Gang
Drinking with Mr. Daniels and his friends
Jim Baker, Jim Beam, Mr. Blanton
Mr. Booker, Elijah Craig, Jack Daniels
George Dickel, Thomas H. Handy, Basil Haydens
Henry McKenna, Old Mr. Forester, Mr. Jameson
Mr. Nester, David Nichols, Benjamin Prichard,
George T. Stagg, Colonel E.H. Taylor, Johny Walker,
Evans Williams, W.L. Weller, Pappy Van Winkle,
and his Old Grand Dad.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
As the destroyers
Sang on the loudspeakers
And porno played on the TV.
And naked women danced
With an attitude
That could kill
An elephant in heat.
The woman
circling the bar
Looking
for their eventual dates.
The scent of bad craziness
Hung in the air.
The wolf moon rose
In the sky
Over the Chao Praya River.
Casting its lunatic light
On the never-sleeping
City of lost angels.
The drinkers
20 drinks too sober
Ran out into the street.
The lunatic light
Of the full wolf moon
Transforming them
Into deranged lunatics.
They began
Howling at the moon.
Like escaped banshees
Freed from their alyssum
In hell.
They howled at the moon
As the moon continued
To overwhelm
The howling lunatics.
Howling At Wolf Moon Nocturna
Drinkers in the Cosmos Bar,
Twenty drinks too sober,
Staring at the lunar star,
Rising over the river.
On that night in October.
Running outside looking upriver,
Howling at the full wolf moon.
No longer stone-sober,
Will be very drunk soon.
Basset Puppy Howling At The Moon
In the late afternoon shadow
the red sunset darkening the sky
the basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
hearing the distant sounds
of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness
in the air
The dog begins
to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
casting its lunatic light
on the mad scene.
Deranged lunatic dog
inspired to howl
When he sees
The super blue moon
The Pink Super Moon Tanka
More Pink Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon
Drunken Old Man Howling At The Moon
lovers in the moon light
A drunken old man down on his luck
was drinking in a nameless bar
in a disreputable, forgotten part of town
where decent citizens, and police feared to tread.
Twenty drinks too sober
he was drinking his way to hell
surrounded by his fellow low-life bums
outlaw scoundrels one and all
he looked outside
transfixed by the full moon
the lunatic light of the
Blood red super moon
inspired him compelled him
he stood up and growled
and ran out into the street
and started howling
at the full moon
the other denizens of the bar
the derelicts, drunken bums, barflies
rushed out and joined him
in howling at the moon
went back inside
and continued to drink
their way to hell.
Howling At The Full Moon In Bangkok
Sam Adams was feeling blue, down on his luck. He went to his favorite watering hole, the CosmosBar in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, and began drinking with his buddies, the notorious Jack Daniels Gang.
Drinking with Mr. Daniels and his friends, Jim Baker, Jim Beam, Mr. Blanton
Mr. Booker, Elijah Craig, Jack Daniels, George Dickel, Thomas H. Handy, Basil Haydens, Henry McKenna, Old Mr. Forester, Mr. Jameson, Mr. Nester, David Nichols, Benjamin Prichard, George T. Stagg, Colonel E.H. Taylor, Johny Walker, Evans Williams, W.L. Weller, Pappy Van Winkle, and his Old Grand Dad.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
Drinking it all down, barely noticing the naked ladies dancing on the stage. Kuhn Lek smiled sadly at him, knowing that there was nothing that would change his mood. He kept drinking until, at last, he was twenty drinks too sober. Then he ordered fried fish Thai style for his midnight dinner.
He looked up and out at the street, noticing the full moon outside. The full moon shed its lunatic light on the streets of Bangkok.
Sam Adams stood up, and said,
The moon is full tonight. Let’s go out and howl at the moon. “
He ran outside onto the road, stripping naked and dancing, waving a feather, as he howled like an escaped banshee at the dancing moon. Inspiring others to join him in howling at the moon. He ran down the street and was run over by a drunk bus driver, ending his life as the moon continued to shine on the mad scene.
Moon over July
Pink Moon
In the middle
of the summer
in July,
midsummer madness
outside under the stars
the storm is abating.
The full moon comes out
The lunatic runs outside
Howling at the
strawberry moon.
Big Daddy Howls at the Moon
Big daddy was talking
to his best friend
Sam Adams
in the Cosmos Bar
in Bangkok, Thailand.
“Sit down and listen
to me.
God,
I wish I had
My yarn and needles with me
that’s my latest hobby
helps me focus.
In the end
it is all about money
it is all about the benjamin’s
nothing personal at all.
Hey, there is cool water in a jar
let’s drink some water
and a shot of Mekong whiskey
it is cocktail time, my friend”.
And as usual
they drank through the night
until o dark hundred.
Twenty drinks too sober.
When they joined
their fellow inmates
in their insane asylum
of a bar.
In going outside
howling like escaped banshees
at the strawberry super full moon
shining its lunatic lights
over the Chao Praya river.
Blame It On The Moon
“Blame it on the moon.”
That is what
Sam Adams said
to the police
after they picked him up
leading a pack of rabid
“farang”
men and woman
running naked down the street.
They had met in front
of the infamous Cosmos Bar
in notorious Bangkok
at o dark hundred.
They were heading
to the riverbank
when the police arrested them,
for disturbing the peace.
They were all incoherent
just staring at the blood-red
full moon overlooking
the Chao Phraya river.
Looking like escaped banshees
howling at the lunatic lights
of the full super blue moon.
The cops laughed
saying on full moon nights
they had a lot of such incidents
On the night of the blood-red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved, godforsaken bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju, and of course beer
drinking with my buddies, the Jack Daniel’s gang
drinking my way to hell and beyond
just as fast as I could
Twenty damn drinks too sober
Sam Adams
sat drinking alone
in a bar
on the shady side of life.
Filled with strange creatures
fellow lost souls
drinking late into the night.
The lunatic light
of the blood-red moon
illuminates the bar.
He stands up
twenty drinks too sober
walks outside.
Looks at the full moon
begins howling at the moon
like an escaped banshee
released from hell.
Lunatic Light of the Full Moon Haiku
The lunatic light
of the blood-red super-moon
lights up the mad night.
The Werewolf Emerges
On the night of the super red full moon
Sam Adams set in a bar
drinking his way to hell.
As fast as he could
Sam Adams had a secret
he was convinced
that he was a werewolf.
On the nights of the full moon
he would shed his human form
and the inner werewolf would emerge
to howl at the moon.
As the blood-red moon
danced across the sky
the transformation began
as usual.
Sam gradually felt
the inner werewolf emerging
taking over his soul.
Sam dams stood up
the transformation complete
He ran outside
to howl at the moon,
The other drinkers
shrugged
Just another night
of insanity
in their din of iniquity.
Just an Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Moon
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Howling at the Moon
I stood outside
between the trees
in a field
on the outside of town.
Beneath the lunatic rays
of the blood-red full moon.
The lunatic lights of the moon
casts a wild primeval glow
on me.
The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
the wild beast within
escapes it chain.
And i howl with delight
a werewolf
free at last.
howling at the moon.
To run amuck
free of its civilized restraints
throwing off its clothes
stripping naked.
Running wild
naked and free
a wild man
enjoying his freedom.
Lunatic howling at the moon
As i sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented harley davis cycle.
With two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the sun
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears
into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And i wake up
alone in my bed
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And i join him
in howling at the moon.
One Crazy Night
One crazy moonlit night
i could not get to sleep
at all.
I looked up
looked out at the window
at the full blood moon
saw by its lunatic light,
Your face
was on the moon.
And i looked up
at the light
that crazy light.
and dreamed
I was with you
again.
And I woke up
again
and I woke up
alone in my bed.
Dreaming dark dreams
of you
wishing it were
other than it was.
I stepped outside
and began howling
at the full moon.
All alone
all alone again
in this world.
Full Moon Lunacy
lovers in the moon light
The full moon hangs
in the evening sky.
Huge, heavy, and full of mystery
it almost looks like it will fall
out of the sky.
The full moon brings out
the lunatics run amuck
howling at the light of the moon.
The full moon inspires lustful thoughts
and wild erotic imaginings
and dark secret desires.
As the lunatic light of the full moon
causes civilized people
to lose themselves
and embrace their inner wild child.
And so, I stare
at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And howl like an escaped banshee
howling at the moon.
Crazed Madman Howling at the Moon
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Another Lunatic Howling at the Moon
s I sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red light of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented Harley-Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back
Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And I wake up
alone in my bed.
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And I join him
in howling at the moon.
Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
a moonlit night
the pink moon
shone casting a baleful light
in the world below.
A man sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in an evil part of the city.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
He stood up
stepped outside
and howled
at the pink moon
who smiled at him.
Howling with the Dancing Moon
A man
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super pink moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
Dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober
he walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm
flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Howling at the Pink Super-moon
On a moonlit late-night
the pink supermoon
casting a baleful light
in the world below.
While inside
Sam Adams sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in a den of iniquity.
In an evil part of the city
on the left side
of society.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jack daniels
Jim Beam, and Mr. Evan
and old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He was just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
So wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
He did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that his eyeballs hurt.
Finally, he had to say something
he gathered up my manly courage
he walked up to her.
She looked at him
instantly bewitched his soul
with a devilish grin.
He lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic.
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon
full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon
riding into the new dawn.
on a demented Harley Davis cycle
with two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the moon.
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
he disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon,
Sam Adams woke up alone,
in his bed
the naked babes
having disappeared
from his demented dreams.
Saying,
“man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.”
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And joins him
in howling at the pink moon
in the fading light
of the lost last night
of the newly damned.
Wolves Howling at the Moon
As the night falls
The full moon
The blood-red full moon
Begins to rise
Carving a sign
Across the night sky
Now you begin to
To hear the pitiful sound
The thumping of the wolves
As they gathered together
Dropping from their hiding places
Gathering together
Revealing their lies
And in one breath
Snarling begin to howl
At the full red blood moon
Zombie Wolves Howling at the Moon
As the moon rises
Over the forest below,
Two wolves gather together
And with one breath
Begin howling at the moon.
Their awful din
Soon wakes up the dead
Zombies walk out of graves
Attacking the living.
The wolves continue to howl
Joined in the zombie hoard.
Woman howling at the moon
A madwoman
Drinking all night
At the Cosmos Bar
Twenty drinks too sober.
Looks outside
At the lunatic light
Of the full moon
Shines over the Chao Praya River
In Bangkok.
She jumps up
Running outside
To howl at the full moon
Like an escaped banshee.
Maria lee off balanced madness
Maria Lee looked up
From her perch in the Cosmos Bar
Looked out at the street
Under the petrichor umbrella
The elastic holding back the rain
It was a gusty early evening
She went out to the street
Looked at the full moon
She began to howl at the moon
Moaning with pleasure
As the pear-shaped moon
Rose overhead
Casting a purple hew
To the mad scene
She jumped overboard
Into the river
Suddenly struck voiceless
And began swimming
She was off balance
As the moon continued
To illuminate the scene
The scent of bad craziness
All around her.
Mad Moonbeams
Adams went out drinking one night
ending up twenty drinks too sober
as the last call for alcohol rang
he looked up and saw
the lunatic light of the full moon
moonbeams beaming at him
he runs outside howling at the moon
dying when a drunk driver ran him over
Howling at the Wolf Moon Rising Over the Chao Praya River
As evening set in
On a typical Friday night
In Bangkok.
The denizens of the Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy.
A motley crew from all over
The world, and locals too.
Lust for the common international language.
Began drinking
With their buddies.
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johny Walker, Evan Williams
Wild turkey, and Old Granddad
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
As the destroyers
Sang on the loudspeakers
And porno played on the tv.
And naked women danced
With an attitude
That could kill
an elephant in heat.
The woman circling the bar
Looking for their eventual dates.
The scent of bad craziness
Hung in the air.
The wolf moon rose
In the sky
Over the Chao Praya River.
Casting its lunatic light
On the never-sleeping
City of lost angels.
The drinkers
20 drinks too sober
Ran out into the street.
The lunatic light
Of the full wolf moon
Transforming them
Into deranged lunatics.
They began
Howling at the moon.
Like escaped banshees
Freed from their alyssum
In hell.
They howled at the moon
As the moon continued
To overwhelm
The howling lunatics.
Howling at the Wolf Moon Nocturna
Drinkers in the Cosmos Bar,
Twenty drinks too sober,
Staring at the lunar star,
rising over the river.
on that night in October.
Running outside looking upriver,
Howling at the full wolf moon.
no longer stone-sober,
Will be very drunk soon.
Basset Puppy Howling at the Moon
In the late afternoon shadow
the red sunset darkening the sky
the basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
hearing the distant sounds
of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness in the air
the dog begins to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
casting its lunatic light
on the mad scene.
Deranged lunatic dog
inspired to howl when he sees it
super blue moon
Howling with the Dancing Moon
Sam Adams
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super blue wolf moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him.
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies,
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker
Old Granddad,
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober.
He walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm.
Flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky,
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon Tanka
More Pink Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Drunken Old Man Howling at the Moon
A drunken old man down on his luck
was drinking in a nameless bar
in a disreputable forgotten part of town
where decent citizens and police feared to tread.
twenty drinks too sober
he was drinking his way to hell
surrounded by his fellow low-life bums
outlaw scoundrels one and all.
he looked outside
transfixed by the full moon
the lunatic light of the moon.
Blood red super moon
inspired him compelled him.
he stood up and growled
and ran out into the street
and started howling
at the full moon.
the other denizens of the bar
the derelicts, drunken bums, barflies
rushed out and joined him
in howling at the moon.
went back inside
and continued to drink
their way to hell.
Howling at the full moon in bangkok
Sam Adams was feeling blue, down on his luck. He went to his favorite watering hole, the Cosmos Bar in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, and began drinking up a storm with his buddies: Jack Daniel’s, Johnny Walker, Old Granddad, Evans, and Jim Beam. He told the comely barmaid, Kuhn Lek, “Bring me one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.” He drank it all down, barely noticing the naked ladies dancing on the stage. She smiled sadly, knowing there was nothing that could change his mood. He kept drinking until, at last, he was twenty drinks too sober. Then he ordered fried fish Thai style for his midnight dinner.
He looked up and out at the street, noticing the full moon outside. The full moon shed its lunatic light on the streets of Bangkok. Sam Adams stood up and said, “The moon is full tonight. Let’s go out and howl at the moon.”
He ran outside onto the road, stripping naked and waving a feather as he danced and howled like an escaped banshee at the glowing moon. He inspired others to join him in howling at the moon. He ran down the street and was tragically run over by a drunk bus driver, ending his life as the moon continued to shine on the mad scene.
Moon Over July
In the middle
of the summer
in july, midsummer madness
outside under the stars
the storm is abating.
The full moon comes out
the man recalling mad lyrics
starts howling at the lunatic light
of the wolf moon
like an escaped banshee
as the mad moon
stares down at them.
Howling at the Strawberry Moon
Big Daddy was talking
to his best friend Sam Adams
in the Cosmos Bar
in Bangkok, Thailand.
Sit down and listen
to me.
God,
i wish I had
my yarn and needles with me
that’s my latest hobby
helps me focus.
In the end
it is all about money
it is all about the benjamin’s
nothing personal at all.
Hey there is cool water in a jar
let’s drink some water
and a shot of Mekong whiskey
it is cocktail time, my friend.
And as usual
they drank through the night
until o dark hundred.
Twenty drinks too sober.
When they joined
their fellow inmates
in their insane asylum
of a bar.
In going outside
howling like escaped banshees
at the strawberry super full moon
shining its lunatic lights
over the Chao Praya River.
Blame it on the moon
blame it on the moon.”
that is what Sam Adams said
to the police
after they picked him up
leading a pack of rabid “farang”
men and woman
running naked down the street.
They had met in front
of the infamous Cosmos Bar
in notorious bangkok
at o dark hundred.
They were heading to the riverbank
when the police arrested them,
for disturbing the peace.
They were all incoherent
just staring at the blood-red
full moon overlooking
the “Chao Phraya “ River.
Looking like escaped banshees
howling at the lunatic lights
of the full super blue moon.
The cops laughed
saying on full moon nights
they had a lot of such incidents
On the night of the blood-red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar.
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer
drinking with my buddies, the Jack Daniels gang.
drinking my way to hell and beyond
just as fast as i could
twenty damn drinks too sober.
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes
walking by the street.
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
when into the bar
that din of cosmic depravity.
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
in a skin-tight leather pant
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
and finally, I had to say something
so, i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
and she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin,
i lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the blood-red full moon.
foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the blood red blue full moon.
On the night of a blood-red wolf moon
a man stood outside
between the trees
in a field
on the outside of town.
beneath the lunatic rays
of the blood-red full moon
the lunatic lights of the moon
casts a wild primeval glow
on him.
the hormonal chemicals are unleashed
the wild beast within
escapes it chain.
and he howls with delight
a werewolf
free at last.
to run amuck
free of its civilized restraints
throwing off his clothes
stripping naked.
running wild
naked and free
a wild man
enjoying his freedom.
as he sits
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the wolf moon
full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
and starts running and running
howling at the moon
riding into the new dawn.
on a demented Harvey-Davis cycle
with two naked babes on his back.
riding into the Moon
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
he disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
and he woke ups
alone,
in his bed,
Saying,
“Man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again”
the wildman
laughs
he has heard that before.
and he joins him
in howling at the wolf moon,
Howling at the Moon Bing AI Version
I hear a distant howl
A lonely voice in the night
Calling out to the moon
Seeking its silver light
I feel a primal urge
A restless fire in my soul
Breaking free from the cage
Running wild and whole
I join the chorus of howls
A symphony of the dark
Echoing through the woods
Reaching for the moon’s spark
We are the children of the moon
We live by its phases and tides
We howl at the moon
Howling with the Dancing Moon: This poem describes a surreal and vivid night under the influence of the moon’s lunatic light, blending imagery of dancing and howling.
A man
Sits drinking late into the night
On the night of the blood-red
super blue wolf moon
the lunatic light of the moon
inspires him
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society
Drinking with his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jim Beam
Jack Daniels, Evan, Old Granddad
Drinking one Scotch, one Bourbon
And one beer
Watching the naked woman
Dancing on stage
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober
He walks outside
And sees the naked moon
Dancing up a storm
Flying across the sky
Ripping her clothes off
Tap dancing
To the insane disco beat
Of the bar
He gives in
Jumps into the sky
Dancing with the naked moon
Howling with the moon maiden
Like an escaped banshee
From the lunatic bins
Of Hell
In honor of the Pink Moon, the first of three super moons in a row, I have revised my “lunatic Howling at the Moon” poems and posted them on my blog @https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com and on my Spotify podcast. Hope you enjoy them.
Madman Howling at the Super Blue Full Wolf Moon: A tale of transformation and wildness under the spell of the Super Blue Full Wolf Moon, where the protagonist embraces their inner werewolf.
The super blue full wolf moon
fills the sky
with its baleful evil glow
and a man fell under its evil glare
the evil super blue full wolf moon
brings out the beast in him
and he sheds his civilized veneer
the inner werewolf coming out
sniffing the air
smiling saying this is good
and begins running
down the trail
howling at the moon
at the super blue full wolf moon
as it stares down at him
urging him to worship her
the mad mood goddess
who lives in the moon
Diana commands him
compels him
and he gives in
howling like an escaped banshee
escaped from his lair in hell
howling like the werewolf he was
He strips off his clothes
and run deep into the mountains
howling insanely
driven mad
by the baleful evil light
of the super blue full wolf moon
and gives in and become once again
a werewolf consumed by the moon
the super full blue wolf moon
smiles at her victory
and the man joins Diana
in saluting his mistress
Diana the moon goddess
who lives on the moon
and comes out once a year
on the super full blue wold moon
In the late afternoon shadow The red sunset darkening the sky
The basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
Hearing the distant sounds
Of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness in the air
The dog begins to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
Casting its lunatic light
On the mad scene.
Please use the following in bold in your poem or story in any order:
afternoon shadow
red sunset
train in the distance
howl in the night
Basset Hound puppy
Here is an updated list of my Howling at the Moon poems, published on the wolf moon night. Quite a few have been published elsewhere.
Index
Begin Poems
Howling at the Moon like an Escaped Banshee
Sam Adams
sat drinking alone
in a bar
on the shady side of life.
Filled with strange creatures
fellow lost souls
drinking late into the night.
The lunatic light
of the blood-red moon
illuminates the bar.
He stands up
twenty drinks too sober
walks outside.
Looks at the full moon
begins howling at the moon
like an escaped banshee
released from hell.
The Lunatic Light of the Blood Red Super-moon
The lunatic light
of the blood-red super-moon
lights up the mad night.
The Werewolf Emerges
On the night of the super red full moon
Sam Adams set in a bar
drinking his way to hell.
As fast as he could
Sam Adams had a secret
he was convinced
that he was a werewolf.
On the nights of the full moon
he would shed his human form
and the inner werewolf would emerge
to howl at the moon.
As the blood-red moon
danced across the sky
the transformation began
as usual.
Sam gradually felt
the inner werewolf emerging
taking over his soul.
Sam dams stood up
the transformation complete
He ran outside
to howl at the moon,
The other drinkers
shrugged
Just another night
of insanity
in their din of iniquity.
Just an Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Moon
man howling at the man
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Howling at the Moon
I stood outside
between the trees
in a field
on the outside of town.
Beneath the lunatic rays
of the blood-red full moon.
The lunatic lights of the moon
casts a wild primeval glow
on me.
The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
the wild beast within
escapes it chain.
And i howl with delight
a werewolf
free at last.
howling at the moon.
To run amuck
free of its civilized restraints
throwing off its clothes
stripping naked.
Running wild
naked and free
a wild man
enjoying his freedom.
Lunatic howling at the moon
As i sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented harley davis cycle.
With two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the sun
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears
into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And i wake up
alone in my bed
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And i join him
in howling at the moon.
One Crazy Night
One crazy moonlit night
i could not get to sleep
at all.
I looked up
looked out at the window
at the full blood moon
saw by its lunatic light,
Your face
was on the moon.
And i looked up
at the light
that crazy light.
and dreamed
I was with you
again.
And I woke up
again
and I woke up
alone in my bed.
Dreaming dark dreams
of you
wishing it were
other than it was.
I stepped outside
and began howling
at the full moon.
All alone
all alone again
in this world.
Full Moon Lunacy
The full moon hangs
in the evening sky.
Huge, heavy, and full of mystery
it almost looks like it will fall
out of the sky.
The full moon brings out
the lunatics run amuck
howling at the light of the moon.
The full moon inspires lustful thoughts
and wild erotic imaginings
and dark secret desires.
As the lunatic light of the full moon
causes civilized people
to lose themselves
and embrace their inner wild child.
And so, I stare
at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And howl like an escaped banshee
howling at the moon.
Howling at the Moon
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Another Lunatic Howling at the Moon
Pink Moon
As I sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lighs of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented harley davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back
Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And I wake up
alone in my bed.
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And I join him
in howling at the moon.
Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
On a moonlit night
the pink moon
shone casting a baleful light
in the world below.
A man sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in an evil part of the city.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
He stood up
stepped outside
and howled
at the pink moon
who smiled at him.
Howling with the Dancing Moon
More Pink Moon
A man
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super pink moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
Dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober
he walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm
flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Howling at the Pink Super-moon
More Pink Moon
On a moonlit late-night
the pink supermoon
casting a baleful light
in the world below.
While inside
Sam Adams sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in a den of iniquity.
In an evil part of the city
on the left side
of society.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jack daniels
Jim Beam, and Mr. Evan
and old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He was just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
So wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
He did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that his eyeballs hurt.
Finally, he had to say something
he gathered up my manly courage
he walked up to her.
She looked at him
instantly bewitched his soul
with a devilish grin.
He lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic.
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon
full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon
riding into the new dawn.
on a demented harley davis cycle
with two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the moon.
90 miles per se.ond
at the speed of thought.
he disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon,
Sam Adams woke up alone,
in his bed
the naked babes
having disappeared
from his demented dreams.
Saying,
“man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.”
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And joins him
in howling at the pink moon
in the fading light
of the lost last night
of the newly damned.
Wolves howling at the moon
As the night falls
The full moon
The blood-red full moon
Begins to rise
Carving a sign
Across the night sky
Now you begin to
To hear the pitiful sound
The thumping of the wolves
As they gathered together
Dropping from their hiding places
Gathering together
Revealing their lies
And in one breath
Snarling begin to howl
At the full red blood moon
Zombie Wolves Howling at the Moon
As the moon rises
Over the forest below,
Two wolves gather together
And with one breath
Begin howling at the moon.
Their awful din
Soon wakes up the dead
Zombies walk out of graves
Attacking the living.
The wolves continue to howl
Joined in the zombie hoard.
Woman howling at the moon
A madwoman
Drinking all night
At the Cosmos Bar
Twenty drinks too sober.
Looks outside
At the lunatic light
Of the full moon
Shines over the Chao Praya River
In Bangkok.
She jumps up
Running outside
To howl at the full moon
Like an escaped banshee.
Maria lee off balanced madness
Maria Lee looked up
From her perch in the Cosmos Bar
Looked out at the street
Under the petrichor umbrella
The elastic holding back the rain
It was a gusty early evening
She went out to the street
Looked at the full moon
She began to howl at the moon
Moaning with pleasure
As the pear-shaped moon
Rose overhead
Casting a purple hew
To the mad scene
She jumped overboard
Into the river
Suddenly struck voiceless
And began swimming
She was off balance
As the moon continued
To illuminate the scene
The scent of bad craziness
All around her.
Mad Moonbeams
Sam Adams went out drinking one night
ending up twenty drinks too sober
as the last call for alcohol rang
he looked up and saw
the lunatic light of the full moon
moonbeams beaming at him
he runs outside howling at the moon
dying when a drunk driver ran him over
Howling at the Wolf Moon Rising Over the Chao Praya River
As evening set in
On a typical Friday night
In Bangkok.
The denizens of the Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy.
A motley crew from all over
The world, and locals too.
Lust for the common international language.
Began drinking
With their buddies.
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johny Walker, Evan Williams
Wild turkey, and Old Granddad
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
As the destroyers
Sang on the loudspeakers
And porno played on the tv.
And naked women danced
With an attitude
That could kill
an elephant in heat.
The woman circling the bar
Looking for their eventual dates.
The scent of bad craziness
Hung in the air.
The wolf moon rose
In the sky
Over the Chao Praya River.
Casting its lunatic light
On the never-sleeping
City of lost angels.
The drinkers
20 drinks too sober
Ran out into the street.
The lunatic light
Of the full wolf moon
Transforming them
Into deranged lunatics.
They began
Howling at the moon.
Like escaped banshees
Freed from their alyssum
In hell.
They howled at the moon
As the moon continued
To overwhelm
The howling lunatics.
Howling at the Wolf Moon Nocturna
Drinkers in the Cosmos Bar,
Twenty drinks too sober,
Staring at the lunar star,
rising over the river.
on that night in october.
Running outside looking upriver,
Howling at the full wolf moon.
no longer stone-sober,
Will be very drunk soon.
Basset Puppy Howling at the Moon
In the late afternoon shadow
the red sunset darkening the sky
the basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
hearing the distant sounds
of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness in the air
the dog begins to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
casting its lunatic light
on the mad scene.
Deranged lunatic dog
inspired to howl when he sees it
super blue moon
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super blue wolf moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him.
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies,
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker
Old Granddad,
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober.
He walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm.
Flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky,
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon Tanka
More Pink Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Drunken Old Man Howling at the Moon
A drunken old man down on his luck
was drinking in a nameless bar
in a disreputable forgotten part of town
where decent citizens and police feared to tread.
twenty drinks too sober
he was drinking his way to hell
surrounded by his fellow low-life bums
outlaw scoundrels one and all.
he looked outside
transfixed by the full moon
the lunatic light of the moon.
Blood red super moon
inspired him compelled him.
he stood up and growled
and ran out into the street
and started howling
at the full moon.
the other denizens of the bar
the derelicts, drunken bums, barflies
rushed out and joined him
in howling at the moon.
went back inside
and continued to drink
their way to hell.
Howling at the full moon in bangkok
sam adams was feeling blue, down on his luck. He went to his favorite watering hole, the cosmos bar in soi cowboy, bangkok, and began drinking up a storm with his buddies, jack daniel’s, johnny walker, old granddad, evans, and jim beam, telling the comely barmaid, kuhn lek, bring me one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer. Drinking it all down, barely noticing the naked ladies dancing on the stage. She smiled sadly, knowing that there was nothing that would change his mood. He kept drinking until, at last, he was twenty drinks too sober. Then he ordered fried fish thai style for his midnight dinner.
He looked up and out at the street, noticing the full moon outside. The full moon shed its lunatic light on the streets of bangkok. Sam adams stood up, and said,
“the moon is full tonight. Let’s go out and howl at the moon. “
he ran outside onto the road, stripping naked and dancing waving a feather, as he howled like an escaped banshee at the dancing moon. Inspiring others to join him in howling at the moon. He ran down the street and was run over by a drunk bus driver, ending his life as the moon continued to shine on the mad scene.
Moon over july
In the middle
of the summer
in july, midsummer madness
outside under the stars
the storm is abating.
The full moon comes out
the man recalling mad lyrics
starts howling at the lunatic light
of the wolf moon
like an escaped banshee
as the mad moon
stares down at them.
Howling at the Stawberry Moon
Big Daddy was talking
to his best friend Sam Adams
in the Cosmos Bar
in Bangkok, Thailand.
Sit down and listen
to me.
God,
i wish I had
my yarn and needles with me
that’s my latest hobby
helps me focus.
In the end
it is all about money
it is all about the benjamin’s
nothing personal at all.
Hey there is cool water in a jar
let’s drink some water
and a shot of mekong whiskey
it is cocktail time, my friend.
And as usual
they drank through the night
until o dark hundred.
Twenty drinks too sober.
When they joined
their fellow inmates
in their insane asylum
of a bar.
In going outside
howling like escaped banshees
at the strawberry super full moon
shining its lunatic lights
over the Chao Praya River.
Blame it on the moon
Pink Moon
“blame it on the moon.”
that is what Sam Adams said
to the police
after they picked him up
leading a pack of rabid “farang”
men and woman
running naked down the street.
They had met in front
of the infamous Cosmos Bar
in notorious bangkok
at o dark hundred.
They were heading to the riverbank
when the police arrested them,
for disturbing the peace.
They were all incoherent
just staring at the blood-red
full moon overlooking
the “Chao Phraya “ River.
Looking like escaped banshees
howling at the lunatic lights
of the full super blue moon.
The cops laughed
saying on full moon nights
they had a lot of such incidents
On the night of the blood-red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar.
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer
drinking with my buddies the jack daniels gang.
drinking my way to hell and beyond
just as fast as i could
twenty damn drinks too sober.
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes
walking by the street.
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
when into the bar
that din of cosmic depravity.
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
in a skin-tight leather pant
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
and finally, I had to say something
so, i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
and she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin,
i lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the blood-red full moon.
foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the blood red blue full moon.
I am a coffee addict. I admit it. Gots to have my daily fix but nowadays mostly decaf in the morning I have a real cup to get my juices going kicking starting my day with that caffeine buzz going around my head.
I have written 60 poems about coffee and posted them on my blog – along with photos and audio clips of me reading the poems, plus one SF short story featuring an alien coffee trader.
I am sending them to Starbucks and Peets along with this cover letter.
Index
Letter To Peets Coffee
Letter to Starbucks Coffee
Morning Coffee
Perfect Cup Of Tea
I like to drink Coffee Rondel
Love and Coffee Double Tetractys
Coffee Entiou
Coffee Elfjie
Coffee Thoughts
Coffee How I Love Thee
Coffee Transports Me To Another World
Coffee Desires
No More Coffee Blues
More Coffee Blues
Coffee
Ode to Coffee
Five Teaku
Coffee, Tea, or Me?
I Prefer Hot Coffee
Drinking My Hot Tea
In The Morning Dawn
A Mad Monk Drank Tea
I Prefer Hot Coffee
Coffee Phata Yat
Snarling Cup Of Coffee One Star Slam
Just Perfect Coffee Tercets
Daily Red Wine Ritual
Nagging Coffee Pot
Love In My Cup
My Tea Mine Must Be Hot
Morning Delight, My Morning Coffee
My Favorite Things
Too Much Coffee Can Be A Bad Thing
Coffee Laturnae
Coffee Morning Delighttri-Fall
Drinking Coffee Is My Delight
Morning Love Dixdeau
Savoring Life
Coffee Pantoum
Coffee Laturne
Morning Triquint Poetry Place
1 Why Did I Create Them?
Coffee, Tea, Wine Atarlis Fileata
Coffee Pyramid Form
There Was A Ring In Her Coffee Cup.
Coffee Is My Morning Delight Raven Fly Poem
Perfect Day Tetractys
I Like To Drink Coffee Rondine
I Like To Drink Coffee In The Morning Triolet
Ode To My Coffee Maker
Coffee Makes My Day
Waking Up To Coffee Minuette
Coffee Pensee
Brazilian Coffee Haiku
Coffee Amphion
Coffee Makes My Day
There’s Nothing To Do
Coffee Tanka
Coffee Ghazal
Broken Coffee Machine
The Starving Aliens Want Coffee
Morning Coffee Quadrate
Morning Coffee
Sam Adams Has Coffee With Big Daddy
Hiking The Mad Hatter Trail Writers’ Cramp
Snarling Cup Of Coffee Birthday Gift
Coffee PI Poem Writers’ Cramp
Coffee Dodistu
April 6—Beverage, Libation, Liquid… Daily Ritual Drinks
Close up white coffee cup with heart shape latte art on wood table at cafe.
Coffee Nonet
coffee
Morning Coffee
coffee
Coffee Hay Na Ku
coffee
boss coffee
Coffee Whitney
coffee
Coffee intoxicating Smells Wakes Me Up
Coffee
coffee
Snarling Cup of Coffee
Sam Adams Alien Coffee Merchant
Coffee Lai
coffee
drink coffee
Non Establishment Coffee
God Drinks Coffee
god in my coffee
Beginning Poems
Letter to Peets
Dear Peets coffee
I am a coffee addict. I admit it. Gots to have my daily fix but nowadays mostly decaf but in the morning I have a real cup to get my juices going kicking starting my day with that caffeine buzz going around my head.
I have written 60 poems about coffee and posted them on my blog – along with photos and audio clips of me reading the poems, plus one SF short story featuring an alien coffee trader.
I grew up in Berkeley and drank lots of Peets coffee at the original Peets, which I consider the mecca of coffee shops in the U.S.
Once when you were still a Bay Area chain, I took back 25 pounds of Peet’s coffee to share with my Indian friends when i was working at the US Consulate there in 2003. They loved the coffee!
“My last job
in the State Department
I had my ritual down
I would go ou
after lunch
to Peet’s across from the WH
and buy a decaf Americano
or decaf white chocolate mocha
nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla
chocolate and hazel nut
whip cream on top
usually took it back
but sometimes
I lingered at Peet’s
soaking
in the Berkeley feeling
thinking back
to all the great cups of coffee
I have had
at Peet’s in Berkeley
the original
and the Solano Avenue
Peets coffee shop”
Now I am retired from my 27years of service with the US State Department as a diplomat, and living in Korea and wondering and hoping that you have expansion plans and are hoping you would open a Peet’s coffee shop in Seoul or even better in Youngjando near the airport in the new Howard Johnson’s hotel complex next to the subway.
So many Koreans have studied over the years in Berkeley that Peets is well known in Korea. There is a Berkeley Coffee shop in Itaewon run by a former Cal Student. He loved Peet’s coffee.
Peets is available at the US military Commissary but not in the local market.
I hope you enjoy the poems and you have my permission to publish them if you wish.
I am a coffee addict. I admit it. Gots to have my daily fix but nowadays mostly decaf, but in the morning I have a real cup to get my juices going kicking starting my day with that caffeine buzz going around my head.
I have written 60 poems about coffee and posted them on my blog – along with photos and audio clips of me reading the poems, plus one SF short story featuring an alien coffee trader.
I grew up in Berkeley and drank lots of Peets coffee at the original Peets, which I consider the mecca of coffee shops in the U.S. I also drank a lot of coffee over the years at Starbucks including when I was a grad student at UW back in the 80’s.
“My last job
in the State Department
I had my ritual down
I would go out
after lunch
to Peet’s or Starbucks across from the WH
and buy a decaf Americano
or decaf white chocolate mocha
nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla
chocolate and hazel nut
whip cream on top
usually took it back
but sometimes
I lingered at Peet’s or Starbucks
soaking
in the Berkeley
West Coast feeling
thinking back
to all the great cups of coffee
I have had
at Peet’s in Berkeley
the original
and the Solano Avenue
Peets and Starbucks coffee shops”
Now I am retired from my 27years of service with the US State Department as a diplomat, and living in Korea, and am enjoying drinking coffee at Starbucks.
I hope you enjoy the poems and you have my permission to publish them if you wish.
Perfect Cup of Tea
The perfect cup
Of hot tea bliss
Consists of Bitter Mellon tea,
Burdock and Gingsing tea
Chamomile, and chicory
Lavender, and rosemary
Peppermint, Ugly Potato tea
And Jasmine or Oolong Tea
Love and Coffee Double Tetractys
need more coffee
Hot
Coffee
In morning
First thing at dawn
Waiting for my lovely wife to wake up
When she wakes up, she fills the house with love
Seeing my wife
She smiles
Spreading
Love
Black Coffee Elfjie
coffee
Black
Hot coffee
Makes my day
Drinking my black coffee
Heaven
The Elfjie is a Dutch form used to teach young children the craft of distilling language into poetry, The consists of five lines, broken down as follows:
Line 1: One word symbolizing a color or feature.
Line 2: Two words representing someone or something associated with Line 1.
Line 3: Three words giving more information about the person or thing presented in Line 2.
Line 4: Four words connecting your narrator to the person or thing in Line 2.
Line 5: One word presenting a twist or conclusion.
Coffee l Love Thee
coffee
I love my coffee
everyday I drink it delicious brew
Falling under its influence
As it wakes me up
Everything seems well
As I drink my coffee
As my thoughts comes bubbling up
dreaming of another
Cup of coffee
Coffee Transports Me to Another World
need more coffee
As I drink my morning
Cup of coffee
I am transported to another world
far far away
dreaming dark dreams
Of what might have
I am lost in my
cup of coffee
heaven and hell
in my cup of coffee
Coffee Desires
I like my coffee
Like I like my women
Dark and Hot as hell,
Yet delightfully heavenly sweet
As heaven itself
My Morning Coffee Fix Sends me to Heaven
boss coffee
My morning coffee fix
Sends Me to Heaven
then Crashes into Hell
Coffee is my last legal vice
coffee
Coffee is my last legal vice
It is a drug
that does
What a Drug Should
Getting me going
Flying me high
Into the sky
And coffee
Makes the world go round
As we fall under its spell
And become its slave
Needing our daily fix
No More Coffee Blues
coffee
I love coffee
Always have
And coffee has loved me back
But lately I have sourced on her
Soured on the whole coffee scene
On the harshness of the morning brew
And the promises it makes
As I sip of its nectar
Drawn into its lair
Drinking drop by drop
As the caffeine takes over
Rewriting my every nerve
Turning me into a slave
For its perverted pleasure
Yes, I love coffee
But I am afraid
Coffee is a harsh mistress
Demanding so much of me
Promising the sun
And delivering the Moon
As I drink her swill
Deeping under her influence
I have the coffee blues
Can’t live with our her
Can’t live with her
I try
But tea does not cut it
Not really
Booze does not do it
At least not in the morning
Yoga is not enough of a buzz
Nor is the runner’s high
And I am afraid deadly afraid of cocaine
And speed and drugs and energy drinks
And so I remain a slave to coffee
My only legal drug
As I sip another and fall under her seductive spread
Once more failing my resolve
To skip coffee for that day
That morning that moment
I shall never be free of her spell
Ever and she knows it
As she beckons me
Every morning with her intoxicating smell
More Coffee Blues
One morning as I drank my fake coffee
I needed to go out and get a cup of real coffee
The fake coffee just did not do the trick
It tasted almost like the real thing
But just did not have that kick
And I needed it bad
I needed the real coffee buzz
I realized that I was a coffee addict
I tried to just drink decafe
But was boring
And almost as bad as the fake coffee
That I drank
Caffeine was bad for me
I knew it
But I craved the rush
Craved the intense buzz
Craved the hyperactivity
Kept me all day
And caused me nightmares
Sometimes for days on end
I knew I could not handle it
But like all addicts
I needed my coffee buzz
And so, I once more
Drank my drug of choice
And entered the coffee zone
As I fried my brain
With caffeine
The last legal drug
In neo-puritan America
And I smiled as I gave in
To the intoxicating smell
And flavor of my coffee
And surrender my free will
And drank my coffee
Waiting for the nightmares to come
Coffee
Coffee Tanka
Hot as hell, heavenly sweat
My daily hot coffee fix
Sends Me to Heaven
Then Crashes into Hell
Five Teaku
Coffee, Tea or Me?
Many a long years ago
The trainee in my class said
Coffee tea or me?
I Prefer Hot Coffee
I prefer hot coffee
But at times I shift to tea
Just so I can get sleep
Drinking My Hot Tea
Drinking my hot tea
My mind does not come to rest
Too much tea, perhaps?
In the Morning Dawn
In the morning dawn
Drinking my hot sweet coffee
Need to drink tea later
A Mad Monk Drank Tea
A mad monk drank tea
Drinking, Thinking long and hard
Enlightenment came
just perfect poetry place
just perfect
coffee time
hot coffee
in morning
watching news
liars lie
CNN
afternoon
drinking tea
sunset wine
Coffee Tricube
coffee
in the morning,
drinking coffee
eating sweet toffee
filled with my love.
as sun comes up,
i see my dove
i want free love
before end of day.
daily red wine ritual
i like to drink a glass of red wine
as the sun begins to set
and the night becomes so fine
in the bright light of the dawn
i like to drink a cup of joe
just to stifle the morning’s lingering yawn
soon everything must flow
this and more i know
in the morning glow
i step outside in the snow
after drinking my tea
despite the still dark light show
my mood becomes so carefree
the love of my begins to shine
and i become all that i can be
nagging coffee pot
boss coffee
the coffee maker
one day
spoke up
he said
master
it is not my place
to complain
but you really are
drinking a bit too much
of coffee
two cups of my brew
should be enough
but lately you have
been drinking four
or five cups
half de-café
but still too much
don’t you think?
the coffee pot concludes
his nagging
as his master turns him on
for his fifth and final cup
for the day.
love in my cup of coffee
coffee
first thing must drink coffee
best way to start morning
always a goodmorning
drink hot coffee
i enjoy my afternoon
drinking my cup of tea
just being with me
love in my cup
My Tea Must Be Hot
my tea
mine must be hot
that is the key .
for me
tea not coffee
to be .
with love
drinking morning
true love .
morning delight, my morning coffee
morning delight, my morning coffee
most mornings i drink it hot
many summer mornings i drink it ice cold
must have coffee i scream as i drink it
musing about life and the universe
my muse gets to work writing these verses
my wife comes alive and bewitches
my soul with her dazzling light of love.
my favorite things
these are among my favorite things drinking coffee in the morning while watching the news and writing in my journals recalling my dreams.
talking to my wife when she wakes up filling the room with the light of her love.
dispatching my nightmares replacing them with love and happiness.
drinking tea in the afternoon as i work on my blog.
evening drinking wine at sunset with my wife the love of my life.
by my side as long as i have her i am the richest person in the world.
too much coffee can be a bad thing
fry drinking too much coffee
my daily cup of coffee
gets me going
but too much coffee
can be a bad thing indeed,
i end up with insomnia
and nightmares..
coffee morning delight
just perfect
way to kick start the morning
the news makes such a fright
no respect
drinking coffee makes a good morning
i need to drink at night
recollect
why it is not a good-morning
in the morning , i like to drink coffee.
coffee
in the morning , i like to drink coffee.
watching the morning news just depresses me.
so sad.
i watch the morning news so filled with gloom.
.i just want to shoot the tv anchors
so sad.
then my wife gets up and smiles at me.
her love brightens up the room like the sun.
so sad .
morning love dixdeau
coffee
every day
i sip and savor
the taste of life
i wake up
drinking several cups
of fully loaded coffee
savoring every sip
as the caffeine
wakes me up
getting me going
then i have lunch
savoring the delicious food
that my wife makes for me
in the afternoon
enjoying a fragrant
cup of tea
in the evening
drinking a glass or two
of red wine
or a cocktail
enjoying the taste
the smell
the fragrance
of the wine
before having a fantastic
lovely meal
with my wife
and most importantly
enjoying the taste
of my wife’s love.
that is how i live
tasting the many fragrances
of my life.
Coffee Pantoum
take coffee with you
in the morning hot coffee for me.
that is what i need to get going.
it must be hot coffee, not tea,
that is the drink that gets my soul glowing,
that is what i need to get going,
as i drink my coffee i watch the news.
that is the drink that gets my soul glowing,
the news gives me nothing but the blues.
coffee laturne
hot
coffee
is perfect
joyful morning
love
Fully Loaded Coffee
drinking coffee
i like my first cup of coffee
to be fully loaded
with turmeric, cocoa bits
yogi tea
coconut oil
milk
hazel nut and vanilla
using peets coffee
as a base
that gets me going
but to my best friend
who grew up with me
enjoying peets coffee
the best coffee shop
in the us
in that mecca of coffee culture
berkeley california
where they proudly
do not serve establishment coffee
is horrified at my coffee choices
for he likes his coffee old school
just black americano coffee
nothing fancy
and i like it that way
from time to time
my second cup
is usually black
my third and final cup
is usually straight black
decafe coffee
morning TriQuint
coffee
i like to drink coffee in the morning
that makes it a good- morning
i turn on the tv
watching news
start
but i drink tea just a forewarning
makes me full of mourning,
i turn on the tv
watching news
start
watching the news filled with warning
turning it off mid-morning
makes a good morning
watching news
start
the TriQuint is a fifteen-line form invented by sylvia a. Feeley. the structure is divided into three cinquains (five-line stanzas), each with syllable patterns of 9, 7, 5, 3, 1, and a common rhyme scheme of aaa1a2b, with upper case letters representing repeated lines for a little extra punch, as described and demonstrated in the following link: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/triquint.html.
TriQuint
triquint, a poem created by sylvia a. Feeley, consists of 3 verses, 5 lines each. lines 3 and 4 of verse 1 (refrain) repeat in verses 2 and 3. the syllable count for each stanza is 9, 7, 5, 3, 1, and has an aaaa rhyme scheme.
three tanka
1 why did i create them?
God drinks his coffee
on a cold winter morning
thinking humanity
oh were such foolish creatures
and why did he create them?
2. what is groundhog day?
what is groundhog day?
i just don’t understand it
what does seeing a shadow
have anything to do
with the weather anyway?
3. the end of time draws near
every day i think
that the end of time is near
the rumors of war
monster storms and wildfires
trump still talking crazy stuff.
coffee, tea, wine Atarlis fileata
coffee cup
must be hot
call it Coffey,
call it whatever
call it koffie,
coffee
must be hot
hot tea
must be just right
perfect cup
afternoon delight
hot tea
must be just right
red wine
with my wife
it is all mine
she is by my side
red wine
with my wife
Drinking Coffee, Hex Sonnetta
drinking coffee in the morning
watching the news unfold
fearing what i am told
reality is controlled
it is a good morning
it has all been foretold
gloomy thoughts in my mind
i quit watching the news
it just gives me the blues
despair all i can find
my thought all maligned
there is my mind to lose
i give up must drink wine
until the sun does not shine
Sam Adams Interplanetary Coffee Merchant
Sam Adams was an interstellar bounty hunter tracking criminals across the galaxy. he was on the hunt for Corbin the sirian who was rumored to be hiding out on the planet terra, which was an obscure undiscovered primitive planet. but terra was known for producing some of the best mind-altering drugs in the galaxy, including coffee, which turned people into instant addicts who would kill for their daily fix of difficult to obtain coffee as coffee was only grown on the terra planet.
his boss, Maria Lee, gave him the commission, and description.
Sam, she said,
“this is a big catch. he is wanted on multiple terms for fraud, murder, assassination and drug dealing. the planet terra is off limits for commerce for a reason. the galactic intelligence agency has determined that the people there are too violent and insane to be allowed to develop interstellar travel.
when you get there, go to Berkeley, California and go to Peets coffee. We think that he is going there to negotiate a coffee purchase agreement and announce that the earth is not alone in the galaxy. we want him alive but ….
“oh, and bring me back some of their coffee. “
He arrived in Berkeley and went to the coffee shop. he showed the barista pictures of Corbin and his associates. the barista said
“Yeah, they were here earlier. i got a bad impression from them. they went that way”
He said, pointing to an office building across the street.
Sam sat there drinking his coffee and realized why coffee was so good.
He got up and saw that Corbin was on tv announcing the earth was not alone.
Sam thought
“Damn too late. i lost that collar. oh well, might as well have another cup of coffee.”
Coffee Pyaramid Poem
coffee
in the morning
need to drink more koffee,
just to make it a good-morning
as i watch the news unfold, need more coffee,
but if i drink too much, my poor heart gets a sharp warning
but i like a little peppermint tea in the mid-morning
whatever you call it, in the morning i need my coffie,
the metric pyramid form (created by john Milton smither) is:
○ centered on the page
○ 8 lines (an octastich)
○ syllables per line: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16
○ rhyme scheme: a, b, b, a, a, b, b, a
There Was a Ring in Her Coffee Cup.
Sam Adams one day was late for a meeting with his girlfriend. he had to stop by and pick something up first before meeting her in coffee shop in downtown seoul. they had met on a bus a few weeks ago and they both knew that they were the one and had talked about marriage.
he was late for the meeting but she was just getting ready to leave thinking he had stood her up. they ordered their coffees and he brought it to the table, slipping something into the cup. she picked up the coffee and noticed that there was something in her cup. she put the ring on her finger and that was that.
Coffee is My Morning Delight Raven Fly Poem
coffee is my morning delight
while watching the news unfold.
makes everything seem to be bright.
feeling lost, now i am old.
in the afternoon i drink tea.
in the evening, i drink wine.
she surrenders her love for me.
drinking wine makes it all fine.
i drink rum or whiskey when it turns to be night
Perfect Day Tetractys
fake coffee
hot
coffee
in morning
perfect morning.
i like to start my day drinking coffee
i like to start my evening drinking wine.
drinking red wine
with my love
white wine.
nice
great
evening.
just perfect
to end the day.
coffee in the morning, wine at sunset.
ode to the humble coffee machine
i sing of thee
the humble coffee maker
almost everyone has one
a coffee machine.
be it a Mr. coffee
a drip coffee pot
a french press
an expresso maker
an industrial old school dinner style
or the hip kroeung
every kitchen has one.
the coffee machine
does it thing
making hot delicious tea
or coffee on demand
just the way you like it.
everyone has their preferences
some like it cold brew
some like it decafe.
some like it fully brewed
some like it hot
some like it iced
some like it instant.
some like it from starbucks
some like it from
the neighborhood joint
i like it from peets.
the best coffee shop
in the U.S.
proudly born in Berkeley.
the Mecca of American coffee shops.
the city that started it all
announcing to the world
“we don’t serve
establishment coffee.”
my coffee maker brews up
a full-load cup of pure joy
coffee, nutmeg, cinnamon,
yogi tea
topped off with milk.
then for the second round
black as my heart
on a dark morning.
afternoon it brews up
a sunny optimistic cup
of herbal tea.
but it does not help me
in the evening
as it does not make wine
or booze
could make me a cup
of Irish coffee
when i am in the mood.
i still love my simple
coffee machine robot
and it loves making me
my morning cup of cosmic joe.
i like to wake up
drinking hot coffee
coffee morning
a good morning
but, after the sunset
i open a bottle
drinking red wine
everything’s fine
prompt
the other day i found a 12-line poetry form i wanted to try, the Minuette. (https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/minuette/) it was simple and enjoyable to use. so, i came up with an 8-line form, loosely based on the minute. for all i know, the one i came up with may already be an existing form! this i call the exit-ine.
exit-ine format:
• 8-line poem made up of 2 quatrains
• syllables per line: 5-5-5-4, 5-5-4-4
• rhyme scheme: x-x-a-a x-x-b-b (x being unrhymed)
• lines 4 and 8 are indented waking up to coffee
2 title/subject
4 description
7 action
8 setting location
6 final thought
the pensée is a simple exercise in counting syllables. there are five lines with syllable counts of 2, 4, 7, 8, 6. line 1, which is also the title, identifies the subject, line 2 describes that subject, line 3 presents some kind of action, line 4 depicts the setting/location, and line 5 provides a final thought/impression, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
i like to start my day
sip hot black coffee or not
makes it a good day.
new prompt: we are going to write a Brazilian haiku. information can be found here: ” haiku, Brazilian”
the topic is yours to choose from, but i will check the rhyme scheme in this form. read the guidelines, please.
i found a description of the “Brazilian haiku” through about.com. it seems that Guilherme de almeida was the first writer who seemed to have brought the haiku to Brazil. the Brazilian haiku has a rhyme scheme.
i like to start my day
sip hot coffee or not
makes it a good day.
ode to the humble coffee machine
i sing of thee
the humble coffee maker
almost everyone has one
a coffee machine.
be it a Mr. coffee
a drip coffee pot
a french press
an expresso maker
an industrial old school dinner style
or the hip kroeung
every kitchen has one.
the coffee machine
does it thing
making hot delicious tea
or coffee on demand
just the way you like it.
everyone has their preferences
some like it cold brew
some like it decafe.
some like it fully brewed
some like it hot
some like it iced
some like it instant.
some like it from starbucks
some like it from
the neighborhood joint
i like it from peets.
the best coffee shop
in the u’s
proudly born in berkeley.
the mecca of american coffee shops.
the city that started it all
announcing to the world
“we don’t serve
establishment coffee.”
my coffee maker brews up
a full-load cup of pure joy
coffee, nutmeg, cinnamon,
yogi tea
topped off with milk.
then for the second round
black as my heart
on a dark morning.
afternoon it brews up
a sunny optimistic cup
of herbal tea.
but it does not help me
in the evening
as it does not make wine
or booze
could make me a cup
of Irish coffee
when i am in the mood.
i still love my simple
coffee machine robot
and it loves making me
my morning cup of cosmic joe.
coffee makes my day
coffee
just hot
makes my morning
but in the evening
wine
my morning coffee
must be hot as hell itself
yet heavenly sweet
i sip it’s sweat ambrosia
transporting me far away
coffee ghazal
must have coffee in the morning must have coffee
watching the news on the good-morning must-have coffee
watching tv news mourning must have coffee
watching the news gives me a suborning must-have coffee
drinking my hot coffee pre-warning must-have coffee
if i have too much coffee forewarning must have coffee
around the midmorning, must have coffee
even yesterday morning must have coffee
migraine strategic warning must have coffee
jake cosmos aller goodmorning must have coffee
1. xxxxxx an xx r
xxxxxx a xx r
2. xxxx xxxxxx
xxxxxxa xx r
xxxx xxxxxx
xxxxxxaxx r
3. xxxx xxxxxx
xxxxxxa xx r
xxxx xxxxxx
xxxxxxaxx r
4. xxxx xxxxxx
xxxxxxa xx r
5. a = main rhyme; r = refrain
xxxxxx an xx r
xxxxxx an xx r
6. subsequent sheers (manta) carry the main rhyme and refrain in the 2nd line. l1 of all subsequent shares has no restrictions other than to be the same length or meter as l2.
xxxx xxxxxx
xxxxxxa xx r
xxxx xxxxxx
xxxx xxxx r
the ghazal is an ancient persian form with an intriguing pattern of rhyme and repetition. it is made up of 5 to 15 couplets, each of which can be read independently, linked by a refrain at the end of the second line and a rhyming word preceding that word. the first couplet establishes the pattern with both lines containing the refrain, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
You start my day
Setting my heart on fire
With your dark delicious brew
And throughout the day
Whenever the mean old blues come by
You chase them away
With your bittersweet ambrosia brew
Every time I inhale your wicked brew
I am filled with power, light, and love
And everything is all right Jack
It is all good
If only for a few fleeting minutes
I love you oh coffee goddess
In all your magical forms
In the dark coffee of the dawning day
In the sizzling coffee in the mid-morning break
In the afternoon siesta break
And in the post-dinner dessert drink
I love you my coffee mistress
You are my refuge
From this horrid world
Yeah
I sing my praises
Of the great glorious coffee lady
Long may she continue
To be my sweet companion
Long may coffee continue
To rule my heart
And set my heart on fire
I love thee
Mistress coffee
And sometimes I think
You love me too
**
Coffee, the Drink of Revolutionaries
Coffee led to the American Revolution
As patriots drank coffee
To rebel against the aristocratic English tea
Coffee started the London Stock market
And started the gossips mills running
Every great invention
Was fed by coffee’s sweet allure
All the great thinkers
All the great leaders
All were enslaved to coffee’s magic
**
Coffee Revolution
Sitting
Dreaming
Over a cup of steaming hot Java dreams
In a pensive caffeine induced mood
I saw
The beginning of the end
At the bottom of my coffee cup
I saw the dismal depressing deadly sight
Of the whole universe
Rising in righteous revolution
Fighting the evil denizens of the world
They exploded
Marching out of my coffee cup
Down the street
Fighting fierce fights
They scream demented dreams
Dreams of absolute freedom
They rush and run, rant and rave
Running from the atomic clouds of vengeance
And I sit watching
The world disintegrates in my coffee cup
And I wonder what does it mean
As I pour myself more coffee
**
God Drinks Coffee
god in my coffee
When I woke up yesterday
I saw a naked old man
Sitting in my chair
Drinking my coffee
Smoking my pipe
I shouted at him
Who in hell are you
He replied
Never in hell am I
God replied
Your coffee is good
But not cosmic enough
Then we stood in the jungle
Watching dinosaurs
Making love
God said
They died you know
When they tried to become like us
We love to think that our vices are secretly good for us—that chocolate is healthy (even dark chocolate is very sugary), that red wine is something of an elixir (nope), and, most recently, that coffee can keep diseases at bay. Dozens of headlines have been talking about this study, which found an association between moderate coffee intake and a reduced risk of dementia; another study published in September led to articles about how coffee is good for your heart. Another tiny study also made news in August for showing that a higher intake of caffeine was very vaguely associated with a lower risk of Alzheimer’s disease in a cohort of 263 people.
I’ve been writing about this issue—the idea that coffee might have some wonderful health benefits— for nearly a decade now, and more research comes out but the bottom line never really changes. In these studies, the authors have typically taken a large (or not so large) database of people who have been asked a range of questions about what they eat and drink. One or two of those questions usually includes asking how much coffee they have each day. Those people have then been followed up with for years. The researchers look at whether this self-reported coffee intake at the start of the study is associated with the future risk of disease.
The problem is that this sort of study has a lot of weaknesses. People are terrible at reporting how much they eat and drink. Notoriously terrible. There are hundreds of scientific studies showing this. People’s reports vary by season, depend on how much they’ve recently eaten, differ depending on which foods they are asked to talk about. An occasional survey is generally just not a good basis for knowing how much people eat each day. (Can you remember what you ate last week? What about the week before?). Unfortunately, we have no other practical methods for getting this information, so these large studies are forced to accept that, even with complex statistical corrections, they may not be properly measuring how much coffee people drink. Just how much coffee people would estimate they drink.These studies also give us limited information about cause and effect. We can say with quite a bit of certainty that (self-reported) moderate coffee drinking—usually defined as about two to three cups a day—is associated with better health than drinking no coffee or drinking a very large amount of it. But, even taking the self-reported data at face value, that doesn’t necessarily mean that coffee causes better health. In many of these studies, the design is simply not robust enough to give us useful data on whether coffee is causing benefits or it’s simply that people who drink a moderate amount of coffee are on average a bit healthier in lots of ways than people who drink none or loads.
We do have some interventional studies looking at coffee and a range of health outcomes. These are studies where people are given coffee or a placebo and then followed up after a few weeks to see what’s happened to their health. But large reviews analysing these interventions have failed to find benefits (or harms) for heart health. There is some suggestion of short-term harm for people with diabetes, although this is partially contested by other research.
So: We can say with some certainty that people who drink a few cups of coffee a day are on average quite healthy. What we can’t say with any confidence is whether the coffee is making a difference or if there are other factors involved. When we actually give coffee to people in controlled clinical settings, there’s not much evidence that it has a benefit to their health.
Personally, I find this news relieving. Why? Well, there’s not much data showing that coffee has health benefits, but there’s also no data showing that it has health harms. Indeed, if you look at the entire gamut of scientific investigation into coffee as a whole, what you tend to see is that in moderate quantities, coffee is basically neutral, and for every possible detriment, there is a possible benefit to balance it out.
We love to think that our vices are secretly good for us—that chocolate is healthy (even dark chocolate is very sugary), that red wine is something of an elixir (nope), and, most recently, that coffee can keep diseases at bay. Dozens of headlines have been talking about this study, which found an association between moderate coffee intake and a reduced risk of dementia; another study published in September led to articles about how coffee is good for your heart. Another tiny study also made news in August for showing that a higher intake of caffeine was very vaguely associated with a lower risk of Alzheimer’s disease in a cohort of 263 people.
I’ve been writing about this issue—the idea that coffee might have some wonderful health benefits— for nearly a decade now, and more research comes out but the bottom line never really changes. In these studies, the authors have typically taken a large (or not so large) database of people who have been asked a range of questions about what they eat and drink. One or two of those questions usually includes asking how much coffee they have each day. Those people have then been followed up with for years. The researchers look at whether this self-reported coffee intake at the start of the study is associated with the future risk of disease.
The problem is that this sort of study has a lot of weaknesses. People are terrible at reporting how much they eat and drink. Notoriously terrible. There are hundreds of scientific studies showing this. People’s reports vary by season, depend on how much they’ve recently eaten, differ depending on which foods they are asked to talk about. An occasional survey is generally just not a good basis for knowing how much people eat each day. (Can you remember what you ate last week? What about the week before?). Unfortunately, we have no other practical methods for getting this information, so these large studies are forced to accept that, even with complex statistical corrections, they may not be properly measuring how much coffee people drink. Just how much coffee people would estimate they drink.
These studies also give us limited information about cause and effect. We can say with quite a bit of certainty that (self-reported) moderate coffee drinking—usually defined as about two to three cups a day—is associated with better health than drinking no coffee or drinking a very large amount of it. But, even taking the self-reported data at face value, that doesn’t necessarily mean that coffee causes better health. In many of these studies, the design is simply not robust enough to give us useful data on whether coffee is causing benefits or it’s simply that people who drink a moderate amount of coffee are on average a bit healthier in lots of ways than people who drink none or loads.
We do have some interventional studies looking at coffee and a range of health outcomes. These are studies where people are given coffee or a placebo and then followed up after a few weeks to see what’s happened to their health. But large reviews analysing these interventions have failed to find benefits (or harms) for heart health. There is some suggestion of short-term harm for people with diabetes, although this is partially contested by other research.
So: We can say with some certainty that people who drink a few cups of coffee a day are on average quite healthy. What we can’t say with any confidence is whether the coffee is making a difference or if there are other factors involved. When we actually give coffee to people in controlled clinical settings, there’s not much evidence that it has a benefit to their health.
Personally, I find this news relieving. Why? Well, there’s not much data showing that coffee has health benefits, but there’s also no data showing that it has health harms. Indeed, if you look at the entire gamut of scientific investigation into coffee as a whole, what you tend to see is that in moderate quantities, coffee is basically neutral, and for every possible detriment, there is a possible benefit to balance it out.
My opinion, as an expert who drinks a lot of coffee and has a strong vested interest in this question, is that there really doesn’t seem to be any health reasons to either drink or avoid coffee. There’s certainly evidence that a lot of coffee is bad for you, and if you’re breaking eight to 10 cups a day—in this case, a cup is defined as a standard eight ounce serving in most studies—you might want to cut back. At a minimum, that much coffee is likely to affect your sleep.
But if you don’t drink coffee, there’s really no need to start unless you want to. It’s probably not going to affect your health much either way, so don’t worry about it. I’m going to go take my own advice and have a second cup.
Best Coffee Shops in DC: A Barista’s Guide
Where to work remotely, grab a tasty breakfast, or find a late-night pick-me-up.
Before I found myself behind a desk writing full-time, I churned out lattes, pour overs, and batches of drip for three years at a café that served specialty coffee—the general term used for beans sourced and roasted with care. Since losing my employee discount I’ve ached for a good cup of coffee. These are the spots I turn to when Pret just won’t cut it.
Velvet seats, groovy botanical wallpaper, and a coffee roaster set up right in the seating area set the scene for this DC roastery’s new Brightwood Park location. Sip on an ethically sourced coffee or a dirty horchata—the shop’s signature drink, with housemade horchata and a shot of concentrated cold brew—in the café or on the turfed outdoor patio, where we can confirm the wi-fi still reaches.
The overall vibe at this branch of Annapolis single-origin roaster Ceremony can best be described as “serene.” Here, you’ll find free wi-fi, good coffee, and ample seating both inside and on the sheltered, heated patio.
With plentiful tables, an industrial-chic aesthetic (complete with stacks of burlap coffee sacks), and the soft rumble of a coffee roaster in the background, this Hyattsville spot is the perfect place to lock in. The espresso drinks are made with its expertly crafted Tin Lizzie coffee blend, with the option to add flavors like maple-spice or honey-cinnamon.
Local Roasters
Lost Sock roasts their coffee in Brightwood Park and sells it at their Takoma café. Photograph by Molly Szymanski.
This Takoma café nestled next to the historic Takoma Theatre is best known for its ethically sourced coffee, roasted in small batches in nearby Brightwood Park. On its menu, though, is much more—homemade syrups in all the classic flavors plus rose-cardamom and Earl Grey/vanilla; hot cider; and a food selection that includes pan de yuca, empanadas, and sandwiches. In addition to whole beans, Lost Sock sells branded merch—including an adorable green glass cortado mug.
Locations in Del Ray, Foggy Bottom, and Penn Quarter
This long-running Alexandria-based operation ethically sources coffee beans from around the world and roasts them at home—transforming green coffee into blends like “G Street,” “Diplomat Blend,” and “Embassy Row.” In addition to hand-brews and espresso drinks, they sell whole beans at all their locations.
Settle in with a Vietnamese iced coffee with ube foam and a steamed egg sando served on a house-made scallion pancake at this Navy Yard spot. At 5 PM, it turns from a calm all-day breakfast café to a full-service restaurant offering larger scallion-pancake sandwiches, steak au poivre, and wings tossed in miso/buffalo, General Tso’s, or Szechuan lemon pepper sauce.
In addition to the staple desserts from Georgetown sister spot Baked and Wired, this beloved DC cafe offers toasts made with freshly-baked sourdough, as well as biscuit sandwiches. For a café owned by bakers, its coffee is exceptional, especially the house nitro.
This Mount Pleasant café is known for its top-notch breakfast—including a beet-cured salmon bagel sandwich, broccoli/cheddar quiche, and assortment of pastries (go for the guava turnover). The food is well-complemented by its coffee—you can choose a classic espresso bar drink or a opt for a specialty treat like a tarragon/date latte or an espresso tonic spiked with jalapeño and mint.
Paolo Dungca’s H Street Filipino restaurant serves up all-day breakfast, along with coffees inspired by Asian flavors. Get your latte with ube (the purple sweet potato), pandan (a vanilla-like flavor), makulay (described best as rainbow birthday cake), and turon (caramelized banana). They’re both delicious and aesthetically pleasing.
The signature drink at this DC staple is a latte made with cardamom-infused simple syrup—a floral, subtly spicy drink. It’s only served hot, but if you’re in the mood for a cold drink, you can opt for one of the classics: a dirty chai or a latte with Madagascar-vanilla syrup.
For Coffee Snobs
In addition to single-origin brewed coffee, Foggy Bottom coffeehouse Filter sells specialty brewing devices for the at-home barista. Photograph by Molly Szymanski.
Walking into this establishment, I passed a wall of ceramic coffee cones for sale and saw people sipping traditional macchiatos on tiny plates—and I knew it meant business. The place brews a variety of blends from Ceremony Coffee, plus, the barista was able to rattle off coffee notes like it was second nature, and recommended a pour over fit to my tastes.
The coffee bar of this no-frills shop is situated in the tiny kitchen of a house that also holds Analog Market, which peddles antique records. There are plans to add a big espresso machine when they remodel next year, but for now, a hand-brew or drip coffee made with beans from their Kensington roastery hits the spot.
This café serves up some of the highest-quality coffee the world has to offer: Panama Geisha beans, which are grown at high-altitude farms with volcanic soil, and have a unique, complex flavor. Unido got its start in Panama, where it established relationships with local farmers and dedicated itself to crafting a superior cup of coffee. It moved to DC in 2019 and roasts its specialty coffee locally. The Shaw location is also known for its excellent weekend brunch.
These coffee/gelato shops owned by husband and wife Violeta Edelman and Robb Duncan serve espresso drinks (and frozen treats) until late—the Bethesda location closes at 10 PM, and the City Center, Dupont Circle, and Fairfax cafés are open until 11 PM Sunday through Thursday and until midnight on Friday and Saturday.
Amidst mismatched furniture and eclectic art, this Adams Morgan coffeehouse offers a large drink selection—from a rooibos tea latte to a seasonal cereal milk latte—served with a complimentary side of two animal crackers. In addition, it has an expansive all day breakfast menu, a cocktail list, and happy hour deals. The best part: it’s open until 10 PM Sunday through Wednesday and until midnight Thursday through Saturday.
Best Coffee Spots in Berkeley According to Co-Pilot
can you give me a list of the best coffee shops in Berkeley-Oakland?
Sure! Here are some of the best coffee shops in Berkeley-Oakland:
Philz Coffee – Known for its unique, handcrafted blends and friendly service. Located at 6310 College Ave, Oakland1.
Timeless Coffee – An all-vegan coffee roastery, bakery, and chocolatier. Located at 4252 Piedmont Ave, Oakland2.
Caffe Chiave – A cozy spot with tasty coffee and a welcoming atmosphere. Located at 2500 San Pablo Ave, Berkeley3.
Caffè Strada – Iconic Berkeley coffee shop known for its White Hot Chocolate and great espresso drinks. Located at 2300 College Ave, Berkeley4.
Artis Coffee – Offers sustainably and ethically sourced beans. Located on Fourth Street, Berkeley5.
Wrecking Ball Coffee Roasters – Features a funky tile-wrapped counter and a 14-foot tall graffiti art mural. Located in North Shattuck neighborhood, Berkeley5.
1951 Coffee Company – A non-profit organization promoting the well-being of the refugee community. Located near UC Berkeley’s campus5.
Rasa Caffe – California’s first unique “East meets West” coffee and tea menu. Located on Martin Luther King Jr. Way, Berkeley5.
Blue Bottle Coffee – Known for its amazing coffee and delicious pastries. Located at 2118 Shattuck Ave, Berkeley6.
Bartavelle – Offers excellent avocado toast and pastries. Located at 1603 San Pablo Ave, Berkeley6.
Do any of these catch your eye?
Best Coffee Shops in Ashland and Medford, Oregon according to CO-Pilot
Sure! Here are some of the best coffee spots in Ashland and Medford, Oregon:
Ashland
Starbucks are everywhere it seems
Noble Coffee Roasting – Known for high-quality, ethically sourced beans and a cozy atmosphere.
Mix Sweet Shop – Offers a variety of sweets along with great coffee.
Case Coffee Roasters – A local favorite with a cozy vibe and artisanal approach1.
Rogue Valley Roasting Co. – Fresh coffee and a relaxing environment.
Dobra Tea – A charming tea room with a wide selection of teas and vegetarian fare.
Pony Espresso – A great spot for a quick cup of coffee and a snack.
Hither Coffee and Goods – Everything homemade with a unique and exceptional touch.
Medford
Mellelo Coffee Roasters – Known for freshly roasted coffee and a welcoming atmosphere.
Punky’s Diner & Pies – Great breakfast with a nostalgic vibe.
Artisan Bakery Cafe – Delicious baked goods and a cozy setting.
Inspire Coffee Co. – A warm ambiance and exceptional coffee.
Human Bean – A local chain with a wide selection of espresso drinks and snacks.
Rogue Coffee Roasters – Focuses on sustainability and community engagement.
Ashland and Medford have a lot of drive through coffee shops including Southwest Coffee, Starbucks, Human Bean and the Beanery
SouthWest Coffee – Located at 750 Crater Lake Ave, this spot offers a convenient drive-through service with a great selection of beverages.
Starbucks – There are several Starbucks locations in Medford with drive-through services, including:
150 N Bartlett St
1408 Biddle Rd
42 Rossanley Dr
2000 Crater Lake Hwy3
Yes, Bad Ass Coffee II in Medford is still in business! It’s located at 750 Crater Lake Ave, Medford, OR 97504. The company’s filing status is listed as active1.
Ashland
The Beanery – Located at 604 US-6, this coffee shop offers drive-through service along with indoor and seasonal patio seating.
The Human Bean – A popular drive-through espresso stand located in Ashland, known for its quality coffee and friendly service.
I hope this helps! Do you have a favorite coffee spot from this list?
Message Copilot
Unfortunately, it seems there isn’t a Peet’s Coffee branch in either Ashland or Medford. However, you can still enjoy Peet’s Coffee by ordering online or finding a nearby grocery store that carries it.
one more coffee list for Seoul and Gyenogi including Gimpo
Sure! Here are some great coffee shops in Seoul, Gyeonggi, and Gimpo:
Seoul
Cheongsudang Bakery: A picturesque hanok cafe with traditional Korean architecture.
Osulloc Tea House Bukchon: A classy 3-story hanok house tea shop.
Onground Gallery: A deconstructed hanok cafe with vintage pottery and paintings.
Cafe Onion: A classic hanok cafe with tasty baked goods.
Coffee Hanyakbang: Known for its cozy atmosphere and great coffee.
Gyeonggi (Gyenogi)
Starbucks Suwon Maesan: A well-known Starbucks location.
New York Hot Dog & Coffee: A unique spot offering hot dogs and coffee.
The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf: A popular chain with great coffee options.
Seasoning: An Italian fusion restaurant in a traditional Korean hanok.
Cafe Archive: A cozy place with great drinks and a pet-friendly environment
Gimpo
Ten Dogs: A pet-friendly coffee cafe.
Cafe Ululu: Known for its amazing coffee and great ambiance.
Cafe Petrucchi: Offers amazing drinks and a cozy atmosphere Italian Chain.
Heavenly Bread: A nice brunch spot with a clean environment.
Corporate Chains
Tom’s Coffee Shop Chain
Caffe Bene: A spacious cafe to relax and recharge. Chain
April Poetry Madness 2024 April 26 to April 30, 2024 Poems
This is the fifth and final batch of my April Poetry Madness challenge poems, (for April 21 to April 25), following daily prompts supplied by Poetry Superhighway, Writer’s Digest, Writing Com Dew Drop Inn, and NaPoWriMo. I am not posting any more PSH poems, as I need to keep some unpublished for future submissions.
I have included the poem, the prompt, and occasionally a bonus poem or comment or two. I am also cross-posting this on All Poetry, Blog Lovin, Cosmos Funnel, Facebook, Fan Story, Instagram, LinkedIn, Medium, Substack, Wattpad, Writer’s Digest, Writing Com, and Twitter. This is probably my last time doing this. Just getting too old to keep up.
NaPoWrMo The Parliament of Owls Decree Death to All Humans
AV version The Parliament of Owls Decree Death to All Humans
April 5, 2024
PSH Love Expressed Through Food
WD Tell Me No Lies
WC Make Baseball Great Again!
NaPoWrMo Resurrecting the Dodo Bird
April 6
PSH Cosmic Dog From Goa
WD Meeting My Fate Minimum Poem
WC Daily Ritual Drinks
NaPoWrMo Only In SF
Part Two
April 7
PSH Visiting My Father’s Grave
Bonus: Yakima Dessert Blues
WD Meeting My Fate Minimum Poem
WC Why Trump?
NaPoWrMo Planetary Nut Re-Configuration Program
April 8
PSH Area Codes
WD My Lucky Number
WC Economic Perception Delay
NaPoWrMo Wish You Were Here
April 9
PSH Dearly Beloved
WD the Major Event of My Life
WC Death to All Humans
NaPoWrMo My Dysfunctional Family
April 10
PSH You Can’t Write That!
WD Better Political Discourse Needed
WC Green Trees Don’t Make It
AI Bing Version
NaPoWrMo Ode to My Coffee Pot
April 11
PSH Quote Poem About 9-11
WD Crazy Love Nonet
WC April 11—Eclipse/d two Lunatic Lune Poems about the Eclipse
NaPoWrMo Tribute to John Dean
April 12
PSH Subway Journey
WD Old Man Lost In His Old Memories
WC Civil War 2.0
NaPoWrMo 11 One Liners
April 13
PSH First Time to Eat Kimchi
WD Five Trumpian Humor Poetic Fragments
WC April 13—Discovery Shooting Down the Alien Visitors
NaPoWrMo Saga of Big Daddy
April 14
PSH 99 Haiku TBC
WD life worth Living
WC Tech Peeves
NaPoWrMo Shy Man Fishing
Part Three
Not posting PSH saving them as “unpublished)
Writer Digest Poems
April 15 New Middle Poem Middle Of Political Silly Season In The U.S. Trigger Warning Mild Political Rant
April 16 Trump Shardona Poem
April 17 New Tuesday prompt write a Shadorma poem about recent tech layoffs CEO To Labor Units of Production Shardona – You are Not Wanted
April 18 WD pessimistic Poem -not the Way to Fire People New Rules in the New Corporation World
April 19 Emotion Poem -fears of falling
April 20 The circus bear escapes
Bear in collar hears praise while rambling
alt. bonus poem Met And Married My Dream Lady
Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Prompts
WC April 15 Lament Drifting Towards Civil War 2.0
WC Prove Something – God’s Demented Sense of Humor
WC Question something -The basic decency and sanity of Americans
WC Scumbagology
WC Comedy – The Donald Trump Show is Getting Old
NaPoWriMo Prompts
April 15
My stamp collection
April 16
Late Night Earthquake Blues
April 17
What is Hip?
April 18 It’s A Dog’s Life for Me
April 19
Hunting the Monsters in Hell
Day 20 Trail of Tears – My Family Connection
Part four
Writer’s Digest Prompts
April 21 Romantic Trope -Fairy Tale Romance
April 22 Gaii’s Calls for Revenge Against Humanity Earth Day Nightmare
April 23 Donald Trump’s Trials the Heart of the Matter
April 24 Maximum Cruelty in the Name of Jesus in the Point
April 25 Insight into Trump Incite Homonym Poem
Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Prompts
April 21—Salient Image (poem based on one concrete thing you remember at day’s end) Seeing My Wife
April 22— Serio-comic dilemma -Election Choices Trigger Warning -Anti-Trump Rant!
April 23—Let Shakespeare be your inspiration – Fairy Tale Romance
April 24—Unexplored Desire Rule of Ten
April 25 TV Show Rocky and Bullwinkle background info
NaPoWriMo Poems
April 21 News Gives Me the Blues
April 22 Coffee and Tea endless argument – which is better?
April 23 Batman Feeling the Blues Kojiki Poem
April 24 the Dream of the Sphinx
April 25 Proust Questionnaire
Part Five
Writers Digest Prompts
Day 26 Life as a Coffee Pot
April 27 Old Man Lost In His Memories -Cornish Sonnet re-mix
April 27 Old Man Lost in his memories
April 28 I saw my Father Die Double Cinquain
April 29 Until the end of time
April 30 Beginning Of My Life Dream Cherita
Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Prompts
April 26—Noise Now My Home Korea
April 27—Beauty Korean Land of K Beauties
April 28 Secrets Diplomatic Secrets to Take to My Grave
April 29—The sense of an ending End of Trump Reality TV Show?
NaPoWriMo Prompts
Day 26 “Nattering Nabobs of Negativity April Poetry
Day 27 Insomnia Blues An American Sonnet
April 28 Meeting Dream Girl Sijo
April 29 Saga of Big Daddy
April 30 The Grim Reaper Gathers His Posse
Begin Poems
Writer’s Digest
Day 26 Life as a Coffee Pot
coffee
If I were to come back
As an inanimate object,
I would come back
As a coffee pot.
Giving pleasure
Every morning
To my master and friends.
As they enjoy the fresh coffee,
That is my Buddha nature
To make for them.
For today’s prompt, write a persona poem. A persona poem is just a poem narrated in the voice of a persona who is not yourself. Like I could write a persona poem in the voice of Batman or SpongeBob SquarePants or an abandoned payphone beside an abandoned gas station (which I just might do) or a stray cat. Pick someone or something, take on its persona, and write
2024 April PAD Challenge: Day 28
Remix title: Old Man Lost In His Old Memories
converted to Cornish Sonnet form
Sam Adams thought about that date.
On a fine date in September.
For that was the day he met his fate.
Sparks flew from heart to heart.
A date he would always remember.
She soon became his sweetheart.
When he saw on the bus he knew
That she would be his forever.
And that he would never feel blue.
As long as she was by his side.
He vowed they would be happy forever
As long as she was by his bedside.
Sam Adams thought about that date.
On a fine date in September.
The Cornish Sonnet is said by an internet source to be influenced by Arab traders to the Cornish coast . This verse form appears to be a merging of Arabic meter and the sonnet. Exactly when and how this came about I have yet to pin down. Early Cornish verse is fragmented and stingy at best. The earliest literature in the Cornish language were fragments of religious plays. The language became all but extinct by the 18th century but what was preserved demonstrates some verse in octaves using 7 syllable loose trochaic lines and alternating rhyme. Unlike verse from other Celtic origins, deliberate use of alliteration or other devices of “harmony of sound” are not present. This sonnet form doesn’t fit with these early findings so I can only assume that it arrived on the scene much later than originally presumed.
The elements of the Cornish Sonnet are:
lyrical meditation.
a quatorzain, 2 sestetsmade up of linked enclosed tercets, followed by a refrain which is the repeat of the first line of each sestet.
metered at the discretion of the poet, lines should be of similar length.
rhymed Ababcc Defdef AD The first line of each sestet are repeated in refrain in the last couplet.
The sonnet can be written with an alternate rhyme scheme aaabcbc defdef CF In this scenario the last line of each sestet is repeated in refrain in the last couplet.
I opted to not use traditional meter as I generally don’t handle that well for some reason
original poem about old man lost in his memories – spelling out his memories of meeting his wife
Memories
Of past events
Yesterdays
Overwhelming
An old man
Lost in his past
Can’t sleep at 0 dark hundred.
Note: “ O dark hundred” is military/intel jargon referring to the time two to three hours before dawn when operatives get up to get ready for dawn operations. Depending on the location and time of year it is between 2 a.m. to 5 a.m.
for me is 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. when I get the insomnia blues.
For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. Just remix one of your poems. It could be from earlier in this month or even from before this challenge. But take one of your already existing poems and remix it. If it’s a sonnet, make it free verse. If it’s free verse, try turning it into a triolet or villanelle. Have fun with it.
April 28 Dead Poem I saw my Father Die Double Cinquain
Curtis Cosmos Aller, Jr
Visiting My Father’s Grave
My father died.
when i saw my dad lying there.
I sensed his soul departing from his dead body.
It was as if a light had gone out, his soul escaped from his life.
I knew death then.
Prompt:
We are going to start Poetry Week with the Double Cinquain.
On an Internet search for new poetry forms, I found the Double Cinquain. The structure is quite the same, compared with the Cinquain, only the syllables have doubled.
How did the Cinquain go?
xx
xxxx
xxxxxx
xxxxxxxx
xx
The Double Cinquain have twice as many syllables, but still five lines.
So in a scheme it looks:
xxxx
xxxxxxxx
xxxx xxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxx
xxxx
Write a poem every day of April with the 2024 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. For today’s prompt, write a dead poem.
For today’s prompt, write a dead poem. Back on day 13, we wrote living poems. Now, we’re going to inspect the other side of that coin. A dead poem could take place at a funeral or involve a wilting flower that’s already been picked. Or it could involve the undead (like zombies and vampires). Or maybe a dead language, a dead culture, or as some people like to say, they’re just “dead inside.”
2024 April PAD Challenge: Day 29 Until the End of Time Tripple Cherita Poem
lovers kissing
I will love you from now
Until The end of time.
and beyond death
When we met, we both knew
we were Soul mates
Who were fated to meet.
Our love was stronger
Then time and space
And we found each other
As we looked at each other
Sparks flew between heart-to-heart
As we stared at each other
With love blazing from your eyes.
You hypnotized me
Mesmerized me
You put a spell on me
You love Mojo working overtime.
And I knew that I was yours.
Write a poem every day of April with the 2024 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. For today’s prompt, write a Until Blank poem.
Tomorrow is the final day of this challenge but remember: This challenge ain’t over until it’s over, so…
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Until (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “Until the End of Time,” “Until the Cows Come Home,” “Until I Finish This Poem,” and/or “Until You Get Your Chores Done.”
2024 April PAD Challenge: Day 30 Beginning Of My Life Dream Cherita
My life
Began one day
In September.
When my dream lady
Walked off a bus
Into my life.
Write a poem every day of April with the 2024 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. For today’s prompt, we have our fifth (and final) Two-for-Tuesday prompt.
Today is our fifth (and final) Two-for-Tuesday prompt, and also the final prompt of the 2024 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. But it’s not the final prompt(s) of the year, because we’ll get back to Wednesday Poetry Prompts every week beginning tomorrow, and I am planning to lead the 17th annual November Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge in November (look for the guidelines in October).
For today’s Two-for-Tuesday prompt:
Write at The End poem, and/or…
Write a Beginning poem.
Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Prompts
April 26—Noise Now My Home Korea
When I first came
To South Korea in 1979
To do my Peace Corps duty
In a rural country town,
I thought that the old name
Of Korea
“the land of the morning calm”
Was absurd.
Korea was a noisy place
From early morning on.
Cars, horns, radio TV blaring
People talking to crowds everywhere
At night people drink and dine.
And loudspeakers
Blasting you awake
At 6 a.m.
And during elections
Sound trucks everywhere.
Now 45 years later
It is my home
No longer noisy
Chaotic exotic place
Just home.
April 27—Beauty Korean Land of K Beauties
lovers in the rain
I live in Korea
The land of plastic surgery
K beauty products.
Korean women are
Among the most beautiful
Woman in the world.
The cult of the beautiful
Everywhere you go
You see beautiful women
And men on the street,
And I realized I married
The most beautiful woman
In the world,
When I met and married
My Dream lady.
April 28 Secrets Diplomatic Secrets to Take to My Grave
I worked for 27 years
as a US diplomat
and witnessed a lot of things
that were and are considered
secrets.
– and we are trained
to keep these secrets
secret.
and I will no doubt die
and take some secrets
to my grave.
April 29—The sense of an ending End of Trump Reality TV Show?
While watching the Trump trials
I sense an ending
To the Trump Reality TV show.
As he is revealed to be
What he is
Nothing but a charlatan
A con man, a grifter.
And he is not the King
Not a dictator, and not a genius,
He seems to be just a tired old man
Finally, being held accountable.
For decades of alleged misconduct
Fraudulent business and political
Crimes include inciting a riot.
Stealing national secrets
And so many over.
Yet the polls show
He could become our next President
Perhaps I am seeing the end
Of democracy playing out
On my TV screen?
Dear God, I pray
Make it all go way
Retire Trump from the game
April 30 Poem About Poetry Why Do I Write?
Why Do I write
These poems every day?
Why do I spend so much time
Writing down these verses
That few will ever see?
Why do I bother?
The only answer is because
I must write daily
My inner muse compels me
And I have to write down
These mad thoughts.
And share them
With the world
Even if no one reads them
Other than my wife
And some of my friends.
I have no choice
That is what I am.
I am just a writer,
And a mad poet
At heart.
NaPoWriMo Prompts
Day 26 “Nattering Nabobs of Negativity April Poetry
(Original Caption) 8/22/1972-Miami Beach, Florida: President Richard Nixon will be inaugurated for a second term on Jan. 20, 1973. Nixon and Vice President Spiro T. Agnew wave and smile to the audience of the 1972 Republican National Convention after they acknowledged their re-nomination.
Before there was Donald Trump’s tirade
Against the false fraudulent fake news
Enemies of the people
For being a “lying liberal leftwing lunatic “
Peddling “fake fraudulent falsehoods”
Fake false news.
There was Nixon and Agnew’s crusade
Against their enemies
In the so-called Liberal media
VP Agnew who resigned
To avoid going to prison
Before Nixon’s downfall
Was famous for his quotes
One of his best quotes
Was this little gem
Filled with alliteration
He called out the press
For being
“Nattering Nabobs of Negativity.”
Happy final Friday of Na/GloPoWriMo, everyone!
Our featured participant for the day is Words With Ruth, where we get a dating profile in response to Day 25’s Proust Questionnaire prompt.
And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that involves alliteration, consonance, and assonance. Alliteration is the repetition of a particular consonant sound at the beginning of multiple words. Consonance is the repetition of consonant sounds elsewhere in multiple words, and assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds. Traci Brimhall’s poem “A Group of Moths” provides a great example of these poetic devices at work, with each line playing with different sounds that seem to move the poem along on a sonorous wave.
Your poem doesn’t have to be as complex as all that, though. Just pick a consonant or two and a vowel and dive right into the wonderful world (hey, there’s some alliteration/consonance/assonance right there) of sound.
Presidency:
In 1968, Richard Nixon asked Agnew to place his name in nomination for the vice presidency, and he became Nixon’s running mate.
Agnew gained national recognition for his colorful speeches denouncing Vietnam War protesters and other opponents of the Nixon administration.
He was despised by many Democrats but pleased Republicans with his rhetoric.
Resignation:
Agnew’s downfall began in 1973 when he was investigated for extortion, bribery, and income-tax violations related to his tenure as governor of Maryland.
Faced with federal indictments, he resigned on October 10, 1973, becoming the second person to resign the vice presidency (after John C. Calhoun in 1832) and the first to do so under duress.
Death: Spiro Agnew passed away on September 17, 1996, in Berlin, Maryland.
A very happy twenty-seventh day of Na/GloPoWriMo to you all.
Today, our featured daily participant is Peregrine Buffington, where you’ll not only find a lot of alliteration, consonance, and assonance in response to Day 26’s prompt, but you’ll find it in abecedarian form.
Our featured resource for the day is Poetry Pause, the “daily dispatch” of the League of Canadian Poets.
And now for our prompt – optional, as always! Today we’d like to challenge you to write an “American sonnet.” What’s that? Well, it’s like a regular sonnet but . . . fewer rules? Like a traditional Spencerian or Shakespearean sonnet, an American sonnet is shortish (generally 14 lines, but not necessarily!), discursive, and tends to end with a bang, but there’s no need to have a rhyme scheme or even a specific meter.
April 28, 2024 Meeting Dream Girl Sijo
On that date,
In September, I met my fate.
When she came to life.
We met first in my nightly dreams
I knew I had met
My soul mate.
based on my true love story.
Finally, our optional prompt for the day asks you to try your hand at writing a sijo. This is a traditional Korean verse form. A sijo has three lines of 14-16 syllables. The first line introduces the poem’s theme, the second discusses it, and the third line, which is divided into two sentences or clauses, ends the poem – usually with some kind of twist or surprise.
You could also write a sijo in six lines – at least when it comes to translating classical sijo into English, translators seem to have developed this habit, as you can see from these translations of poems by Jong Moong-Ju and U Tak.
April 29 Clandestine – Saga of Big Daddy
photo created by Bing Co-Pilot
Big Daddy lived in the shadow worlds
in the clandestine underground.
He was an ex-University of Arkansas
And Dallas Cowboy player.
Who had worked for the CIA
After the agency fired him
For murdering enemies
Of the state at home.
In contravention of agency rules,
But they retained his services
From time to time.
He became a legendary figure
He was a cipher, a ghost,
a Machiavellian intel operative
A spy, a spook, a secret agent man,
living in the clandestine shadows..
No one knew his real name
Called him Big Daddy.
Or his latest covert name.
And he had hundreds
Of cover legends.
He officially did not exist,
As his agency had officially
Terminated him years ago.
He now worked for an agency
That did not exist.
The same agency
That had terminated his legal existence
For matters of national security.
He lived in the
clandestine Shadowlands
Of the third world.
In nameless hellhole slums
And clandestine, dark,
secret dungeons.
Where he would do what needed
To be done
Killing those that needed killing
At the instructions
Of his unseen masters.
He was just a rumor
Living in the shadow worlds
working for a clandestine
unnamed agency
that did not exist.
An intel operative
The best of the best at what he did
Which was creative interrogation.
His favorite choice
Was the creative use of
An electric shock,
Imaginary or not
But sometimes
It had an outcome
An unimaginable outcome.
His worst nightmare
The victim is released
And sues him
And the agencies
That he worked for.
But so far
It has not happened
As no one knew
His real name
And the government
Did not know too.
So justice
was never served
On Big Daddy.
April 30
And now for our optional prompt. If you’ve been paying attention to pop-music news over the past couple of weeks, you may know that Taylor Swift has released a new double album titled “The Tortured Poets Department.” In recognition of this occasion, Merriam-Webster put together a list of ten words from Taylor Swift songs. We hope you don’t find this too torturous yourself, but we’d like to challenge you to select one these words and write a poem that uses the word as its title.
Clandestine
Song Title/Album: “illicit affairs” / folklore
Lyric: “And that’s the thing about illicit affairs / And clandestine meetings and longing stares”
Definition: done in a private place or way done secretly
About the Word:Clandestine is an adjective that is often used as a substitute for secret and covert, and it is commonly applied to actions that involve secrecy maintained for an evil, illicit (as in “illicit affairs”), or unauthorized purpose. It comes to English by way of Middle French, from Latin clandestine, which is itself from Latin clam, meaning “secretly.” Although people involved in clandestine activities tend to clam up when asked about them, the bivalveclam has no relation to the Latin clam, but comes instead from the Old English word clam, meaning “bond” or “fetter.”
Machiavellian
Song Title/Album: “Mastermind” / Midnights
Lyric: “I’m only cryptic and Machiavellian ‘because I care”
Definition: using clever lies and tricks in order to get or achieve something : clever and dishonest
About the Word: While inspiring an adjective (such as Swiftian) may seem like a fine way to achieve linguistic immortality, it must be said that many words taken from people’s names are not as complimentary. Machiavellian—which describes things marked by cunning, duplicity, or bad faith—comes from the Italian political philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527), the author of the most famous treatise on bare-knuckled politics ever published, The Prince, which brought him a reputation as an immoral cynic and even a teacher of evil.
April 30 The Grim Reaper Gathers His Posse
cheating death
It was Halloween night
A night that all the denizens
Of hell loved.
For on that night
All of hell would break out.
They would celebrate their annual escape
On Halloween, they are allowed
To go to the surface sunlit lands.
For a night of drinking,
Drugging and wilding
As bad craziness descends
Upon the land.
The Grim Reaper and his posse
Dressed up as cosmic court jesters
Dressed as fools.
They descended upon the world
And a night of chaos fell upon the land.
Thousands died, as the Grim Reaper
Added to his quota.
Bonus kills were bonus points.
He returned to hell with his minions,
And the souls of the dead
Who soon became mere ghosts.
Their voices crying in the wind
Echoing through time.
And now for our last prompt of the year – optional, as always! Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem in which the speaker is identified with, or compared to, a character from myth or legend, as in Claire Scott’s poem “Scheherazade at the Doctor’s Office.”
I have been a writing com member since 2016. I have been actively posting in various challenges and contests since I began and have posted close to 998 pieces. I highly recommend this site as a warm, welcoming writing community and I have learned so much about the art and craft of writing from participating. You can find my work at https://jcosmos.Writing.Com/
Writer’s Cramp does a prompt every day with a daily winner. I have won quite a few of these and try to enter them daily.
End of Empires
38
On February 2, 1901,
Queen Victoria was laid to rest.
Largest gathering
Of European royalty ever assembled
Attended the funeral.
This was the height
Of the British Empire.
Few would have thought
In a few short years
World War 1 would begin.
And then World War Two
The Cold War
Followed by the gradual
End of the British Empire.
The sun did set
In the British Empire
But in 1901
It seemed like
The British Empire
Would last forever.
Empires rise and fall
Sometimes one sees the decline.
Other times it comes as a surprise.
In hindsight almost inevitable.
What will be the end?
Of the American Empire?
Will America break apart?
Into ten or 15 new nations?
If there is a civil war
It will not end up
As proponents think.
That is the nature
Of civil war
And war in general.
it never ends as planned.
“ War, Good God all, what is it good for?
War has only one friend, the undertaker.”
NEW (birthday week) PROMPT:
On February 2 (2/2) 1901, the state funeral of Queen Victoria of Great Britain took place and was one of the largest gatherings of European royalty in history. Write a poem or story about this event. Use HISTORY as one of your genres.
A Quiet January Night
26 lines
Sam Adams
Was at home
On a quiet January Night.
Snowbound
In his Capitol Hill Row house,
Down the street from Lincoln Park
In the heart of DC.
All in all
Sam felt at peace
With the world.
Having accepted
As he was getting older,
And having reconciled
With his long-estranged siblings.
He was playing the piano
While his cat
The Buddha Cat
Was lost in his cat verse
Deep in meditation.
Soon he put on some
Buddha bar meditation music
And joined the cosmic cat
In mediation.
There is a new prompt up in “The Writer’s Cramp” – and if you write the best story or poem (and follow all of the rules) you just might win 10,000 GPs.
” WINNER & NEW PROMPT Due Sunday, January 21″ 16 hours 40 minutes 35 seconds
Please use the following as the Title of your story or poem:
“A Quiet January Night”
Please select “Spiritual” as one of your genres.
Make sure you create a new static item for your entry, and include your word count for stories (1000 words or less) or a line count for poems (40 lines or less) IN your forum post with the b-item link to your entry to be a qualified entry.
Lunch with Allen Ginsberg (winner)
39
If I had a chance to go back in time
and meet for lunch a famous poet
I would go back to 1954.
to my hometown, Berkeley, California
to visit with and have lunch
with one of my literary heroes
Allan Ginsberg.
I would knock on his door
and tell him I came from
from 2024, the future.
And wanted to talk to him
about the future world
and we would go and have lunch
in North Beach.
And over wine and pasta, we would talk
We would talk about his life and legacy
and then talk about the future world.
I would tell him that Donald Trump
would become President
and usher in an era of neo-fascism.
H would be astonished.
but finally concluded
that he knew of the Trump family
and could see that coming.
They had bad juju he concluded.
And then he would go home
and write a series of poems
about the future of the U.S.
And perhaps we would have prevented
some of the future from taking place
perhaps it was inevitable
as he would write,
“the future is coming sooner than we think
and it will be stranger than fiction.”
Unfortunately, I can’t award a winner today. Please remember to select the appropriate genre if the prompt requires one. (Today’s prompt does not.)
NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, January 6, is National Take a Poet to Lunch Day. Write a story or poem involving lunch with a poet. The poet can be living, formerly living, imaginary, or even yourself. What’s on the menu, and what topics are discussed?
Sam Adams
watched from far-off Mumbai
as the terrorists launched 9-11.
Thanking the Gods
that his wife was not working
there at the Pentagon.
He had a vision
that the Dogs of War
Have been set free
Of their cages in hell,
And are out
howling at the moon.
The Dogs of War
Have been set free
To wreck what havoc
Might be.
Yes, the Dogs of War
The Hell Hounds
Have bound out of their cages
Sniffed about, smiled
At the destruction, they saw
They knew soon
They would be in their element
As the world descends into chaos,
The world saw the face of pure evil
That fine September morning
A morning like any other morning
Until a fateful moment
When two planes came out of the sky,
And Destroyed the center of world capitalism
In an act of horrific violence, and pure evil
That is beyond the comprehension
Of mere mortal man.
Dec 7, 1941, was the attack by Japanese warplanes on Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, an event that propelled the United States into the forefront of World War II.
For tomorrow, write a story or poem that is set during an unexpected military attack. (But broadly construed … could be like Pearl Harbor, could be a science-fiction space war, could be a gang war in NYC, could be an unexpected snowball attack by the neighborhood bullies, could be in fairyland, etc.)
Focus your tale on the experiences of an “ordinary person” in this attack, rather than someone removed from the action (e.g. not military leaders in command-and-control centers.) Try to bring to life the confusion and emotions of the situation.
Hitler as an Artist?
20
A Hitler historian
was fascinated
With Hitler’s failed attempt
To be a painter,
Hitler always blamed
His failure as an artist
Due to a cabal of Jewish painters
Who were the arbiters of taste
In Vienna right after World War 1
One day he discovered
A cache of lost Hitler paintings.
Among the paintings,
was one labeled
“International Bird Painting Day”.
Art historians all agreed –
It was the worst bird painting
Ever made,
Proving that Hitler
Would never have made it
As an artist,
Since he had no talent
As an artist,
Sadly, his depraved, evil
malignant evil talents
Lay elsewhere.
NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, April 8, is Draw a Picture of a Bird Day. Write a story or poem about someone with limited artistic talent attempting to observe this occasion.
20
Express it Eight
Soling Bling is the host of the Express It In Eight Daily prompts. The goal is to write an eight-line poem. Here are my most recent entries.
Jellyfish Lake and Other Strange Places
Sam Adams was an explorer
He had been to many strange places
Among the Weider were the Jellyfish Lake
Filled with jellyfish
Snake Island off of Brazil
Filled with the deadliest snakes in the world
And the famous cannibal island
where outsiders are forbidden in the Andaman seas.
In an ancient town in Central Asia,
Deep in the high mountains on the old Silk Road,
There lays a weird church, mosque, and temple.
With four doors, one to the church, the mosque, and the temple.
The fourth door, hidden in the back rooms leads to an indoor patio.
The fourth door reveals ten smaller green doors on top of each other.
According to the sign above, each door opens a portal
To other worlds, a one-way ticket for madmen only.
Lately, I have been drinking
Much more tea and less coffee,
Particularly in the afternoon.
My latest tea of choice is my wife’s secret blend.
Bitter melon, jujube dates, ugly potato, wormwood
With Earl Gray, green tea slims fast,
Yogi detox teas are added to the brewing pot.
Perfection in a soothing hot cup of heaven.
In the U.S. in November
There is a noteworthy
Looming election.
An election that will determine
In a comprehensive manner,
The future of the U.S. and the world
Will the U.S. choose fascism?
Or will democracy and sanity prevail?
the warning signs
are everywhere
will we heed them?
will we wake up
and see that Trump
and the MAGA movement
are fascists determined
to destroy American democracy.
POEM TITLES
Warning
by Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
>< >< >< >< >< ><
I Choose the Mountain
by Howard Simon
The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
The massive mountain makes its move
Beckoning me to ascend
A much more difficult path
To get up the slippery bend
I cannot choose both
I have a choice to make
I must be wise
This will determine my fate
I choose, I choose the mountain
With all its stress and strain
Because only by climbing
Can I rise above the plain
I choose the mountain
And I will never stop climbing
I choose the mountain
And I shall forever be ascending
David Sneider is the host of Poetry Place. He does a weekly poetry form challenge similar to what Writer Digest does. I try to try my hand at both and between the two of them and Fan Story, I have tried over 150 poetry forms since 2016.
Here are my most recent attempts
Why do we write?
40 lines
A writer is often asked
Why do you write?
What motivates you?
What keeps you going?
How do you handle the constant rejections?
The self-doubts
What comes with the writer’s life?
I write as many writers do
Because I must
Because the damn muse
Will never leave me alone
The characters in my head
Demand to let their voices be heard
Demand to be freed
To tell their tales
And I am a slave
To my muse
Who takes me
Where she will
No matter what
I must write every day
Usually starting my day
Drinking coffee
Watching the news unfold
Writing my thoughts
Letting the poetry flow
Out of my soul
Bleeding onto the computer screen
The words waiting to be spoken
To tell their tale
Before the day is over
That is why I write
Because I can not write
That is the Buddha nature
Of being a writer after all.
Most of us probably started writing to fulfill the requirements of our teachers in school. We wrote to pass the course and gain recognition through grade assignments.
During some self-analysis upon leaving the Navy and starting my job search, I realized that the things I enjoyed the most and had the most success with involved writing of some sort. Therefore, a technical writing job seemed to be the perfect union of that interest with my engineering education. For the next few years, I wrote to instruct field technicians on how to implement retrofit modifications on aircraft.
Later, in the business world, I wrote to enlighten co-workers, managers, and customers about procedures, policies, and systems.
Nowadays, while I sometimes still write for those reasons (as I’m doing here), many more factors keep me engaged in this wondrous process. That’s probably the case with you, too.
If you feel a need to express your most personal response to this mysterious, beautiful, and sometimes painful world in the shapes, colors, sounds, and smells of your imagination, creative writing can provide a powerful means of therapeutic release.
The pure joy that comes with meeting the challenges of crafting the language into something meaningful, like molding a piece of clay with your hands, can be a refreshing recreational outlet.
Many writers are driven to publish their work on the printed page. I can vouch for the exhilarating sense of satisfaction that comes with that first acceptance letter.
Upon receiving a reviewer’s comment that one of my stories reminded him of a stand-up comedian’s routine, I realized that the desire to entertain/is also a driving force that keeps me motivated.
For whom do you write?
Many writers resist criticism and defend their writing with the claim that they write only for themselves. While some therapeutic or recreational writing may not be intended for sharing with an audience, writing is usually employed as a means of communicating with other people. Of course, the grocery lists and phone numbers you scribble on scraps of paper are probably intended for only you. However, those things within you that won’t rest until they are given voice–the burning memories that linger in your heart and the fanciful fugitive images floating around in your head–must be shared with someone else to satisfy the need for expression.
When you sit down to write, you should keep your audience in mind. Whether it be your friends and family, a group of readers interested in a particular genre as identified here at WDC, or an editor for a specific publication, the language you use serves as a bridge between you and the reader. Choose accordingly.
Your reasons for writing along with your prospective audience will influence the voice you use in your writing, as the relationship between the writer and the reader develops into a true collaboration in this wondrous experience.
Today’s Practice Session: Write about your objective(s) as you continue on this marvelous journey.
Then ponder the postings of your peers and exchange views about the various motivations that keep us all inspired in this venture.
Guns
so many
people are dying
Politicians offer useless prayers
Death
The Elevenie, also called Elfie in German, is an exercise in language distillation. Consisting of five lines with word counts of 1, 2, 3, 4, and 1, respectively, it captures a thought in only eleven words, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
Wikipedia defines an Elevenie, or Elfchen, as follows:
“An elevenie (German Elfchen — Elf “eleven” and -Chen as a diminutive suffix to indicate diminutive size and endearment) is a short poem with a given pattern. It contains eleven words which are arranged in a specified order over five rows. Each row has a requirement that can vary.”
A simple form, similar perhaps to Haiku, Senryu, or Tanka, in which the poet attempts to carry an idea within a set format of words and lines which imposes certain strictures of thought and form on the author.
The usual format requires a short verse of eleven words in five lines in the form – 1, 2, 3, 4, 1. An order which I have reversed in my last of the 4 Elfchen below . . .
Hot coffee starts my morning.
watching the news mid-morning.
Too much coffee is a warning,
a migraine a forewarning.
Afternoon I drink hot tea.
Contemplating to be.
What is to become of me?
Turning on music filled with glee.
As the sun sets, I drink red wine.
With my wife, all is just fine.
While looking at the moonshine,
As we sit down start to dine.
The Tanaga is an ancient Filipino form that has evolved from a complete poem to a series of stanzas. The structure consists of four mono-rhymed lines with seven syllables per line, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
I was born John Cosmos Aller
But for most of my life
I called myself Jake Cosmos Aller
Nowadays, I call myself J Cosmos Aller
or Cosmos As my pen name
the name Cosmos has nothing
to do with me being born
in Oakland
growing up in Berkeley
no one buys that story though
Cosmos being such a Berkeley-like name
My great-grandfather wanted
an English translation
of the family’s last name
Aller
looked it up in a German English dictionary
had two choices
Cosmos
or Universe
chose Cosmos
and thus I am the last
of the Cosmos Aller’s
The universe would have been
an equally good Berkeley name
But I have had other nicknames
The kids nicknamed me Allergy
And pretended to sneeze
When I passed them by
The name Jake came about
From a dream I had
As a boy scout
I was riding a horse
Named Jake
I would scream
Whoa Jake
Slide aside Clyde
Turn around Verdiack
I started saying these words
When I walked about Campus
And people thought I was a bit mental
So, people simply started calling me
The Whoa Jake kid,
Later simply became Jake
After I left school
I liked the name, Jake
Better than John
Too many Johns
In the world, I thought
When my wife became an army officer
We would sometimes get invites
To things addressed to Captain Lee and Mr. Lee
Got tired of trying to explain
We had different last names
So, I became Jake Lee
Later when I was in the military hospital system
As a dependent getting operations
The doctors just assumed I was a major
And called me Major Aller
I did not correct them
Liked having been promoted
To the rank of Major!
When I started trying to become
Professional writing and blogger
I thought using my middle name
Would be a nice pen name
So now I am either J Cosmos Aller
Jake Cosmos Aller
John (Jake) Cosmos Aller
or just Cosmos
No longer Jake Lee
Or Major Aller though.
unless you are Maya Angelou, Stephen King, or some other famous writer whose name alone is enough to draw an audience, the title is one of the most critical elements of a poem. As the only thing a prospective reader will see while scanning the list of items in a writer’s port or the Table of Contents in a book, it serves as the door that must be opened to enter the realm of the poet’s imagination. If that entrance does not generate some kind of interest, that browser will likely move along to the next item, or maybe even the next author.
Like the names of your children, a title gives the poem a specific identity. Of course, some poets eschew such traditions and leave their work without any identifying reference. Emily Dickinson did not put titles on her poems, even though her editors often did before publication. Frank O’Hara often applied simple, nondescript titles, such as Poem. Would you let your child go through life without a name? Then, why would you ever think of not naming your brainchild or tagging it with some irrelevant label?
Because many poems are so short in comparison with other forms of literature, their names should capture the underlying essence of the expression as it sets the tone and prepares the reader for what is to come. Mark Twain once said, “The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug,” and I believe the same advice would apply to titles for a poem. This can be a struggle in many cases. Sometimes the title comes to the poet out of the blue as inspiration for an entire composition, and sometimes it hides within the shrubbery of the text.
Here are a few suggestions to aid you in your search for the perfect name:
1. Start with the title and let it propel you into the poem.
2. Use the first line of the poem as your title.
3. Provide a brief description of the poem’s theme.
4. Find a phrase or image within the poem that can represent the whole.
5. If you are writing a narrative poem, an action verb may help engage the prospective reader with the experience being described.
6. Use your imagination to pluck lightning from the phantasmal cloud of cosmic pixie dust swirling around in your head.
Your assignment: Write a poem about the concept of NAMES.
#59. names
ID #1062273 entered on January 11, 2024, at 7:16 pm [Edit] [5 views]
More Guns Roundeau
gun
More guns killing people today.
Is it just another day?
Politicians offer prayer.
All the dead gun ghosts don’t care.
Have we completely lost our way?
To the gun ghosts, what do we say?
Our prayers are just another cliche.
Will the guns continue to flare?
More guns.
Will we continue to pay?
Will our country be able to stay?
Will hatred continue to stare?
Will there be an end to this nightmare?
Do we have any words left to sway?
More guns.
: aabba aabR aabbaR. Lines 9 and 15 are short
The Rondeau is a French form of fifteen lines with an intriguing pattern of rhyme and repetition, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
I wake up with the morning dawning sun.
Turn on my TV watch the news,
drinking a hot snarling cup of coffee.
thinking dark gloomy thoughts as the snow falls.
Bombs, war, inflation, end-of-the-world.
The Ronka is another spinoff from the Japanese Haiku and Tanka forms devised by Ken Ronkowitz. The structure consists of five unrhymed lines with seven words per line. The theme should “focus on observations of the day as seen in the outside world and the inside worlds of dwellings and the mind,” as described and demonstrated in the following links:
Rupali Goswami is the host of the 40-word challenge – to write a 40-word poem or micro story based on the daily prompts. Here are my latest attempts.
01/29/2023- ‘old”
Watching the news
I feel the old-age blues
I turn off the barking, deranged,
talking heads,
had enough of them all
for a lifetime
turned off that snarling noise box.
And have another cup of coffee.
With my lovely wife.
#5. 01/29/2023- ‘old”
ID #1062532 entered on January 17, 2024, at 4:22 am [Edit] [2 views]
01/28/2023-‘unusual’
Donald Trump
Is the biggest con artist
carnival barker, grifter,
Flimflam man
That ever lived.
He has an unusual
Sway over his cult-like
MAGA Followers
Who thinks he is God’s Anointed
Some call him the orange Jesus
The Messiah!
#4. Unusual sway
ID #1062531 entered on January 17, 2024, at 4:17 am [Edit] [12 views]
01/27/2023-decency’
The next election
Boils down to this
Will we choose decency?
represented by Biden
And Democracy
Or will we choose hatred?
And Fascism?
Represented by Trump?
When
Sam Adams
Bought the 3-d print Glock
He tested security several times.
Smuggling the gun in
And re-entering the building.
Where he administered justice
To his lying scumbag frat bro
Darius Smith, iv.
When Darius Smith, IV
Sam’s College frat bro
stole 100 million dollars
2 million from him
he prayed that someone
would rescue his soul
as he blew him, Darius, away
as he ate dinner. with Sam’s
estranged wife.
Barbados, West Indies – March 4, 2007: A beach scene on the Caribbean Island of Barbados with a yellow lifeguard station and people enjoying the beach and the water.
On a winter’s day
In cold, dismal snowy DC
My thoughts often turn.
To Barbados.And the three wonderful years
I spent serving my country.
In Barbados, and the Eastern Caribbean.Recalling blissful days
Hanging out at the Hilton Hotel
With the love of my wife by my side.Sunday brunch then hitting the beach.
Drinking rum sours while watching people
Frolicking in the Blue Sea.
Visiting my other islands
once a month
Antigua, Dominica, Grenada, St. Kitts,
St. Lucia and St. Vincent and the Grenadines
Meeting political leaders
Liming with the locals.
Listening to the steel drum band
Play as the sunsets
Over my secret Caribbean paradise.
Comment: My best tour in the Foreign Service was when I served as Deputy Pol/Econ Chief in Barbados and the Eastern Caribbean (Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada, St. Kitts, St Lucia, and St Vincent and the Grenadines) from 2007 to 2010. Liming is local jargon for having a drink.
An old Mother
Embraces her daughter
And son-in-law
Luminous tears
Flowing down her face
As she looked
At her children
Filled with love
A devoted humble
Guiding loving spirit
Smiling at her
These are the rules:
1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.
2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.
3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum, “Stormy’s poetry newsletter & contest” [ASR] by May 13, 2023.
4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (May 17, 2023)
The words are:
A mother embraces luminous tears devoted spirit humble guiding
This is the third time I have entered the Writer’s Digest annual chapbook challenge. The challenge was to write one poem per day in November then select the best 20 for the chapbook contest. Here are my poems.
Index
November 1 Declaration Poem
Favorite Childhood Object
Problem Solvers Problems
Mike Johnson Ain’t No Christian, Jack
Dreams Of a Better World Problems
49-Year Love Story
Barbados Calling Me
Hometown Calling Me
Gun Ghosts Speak Up
Saga of Big Daddy
Attack of Neighbor Bob Terrorist
Back in the Old Days, Trump Would Never Have President
Big Daddy, aka Sam Adams
was the man
who always had a plan.
He was an ex-University of Arkansas
and Dallas Cowboy player
who had worked for the CIA?
The agency fired him
for murdering enemies of the state
at home in contravention of agency rules,
but they retained
his services from time to time.
He supplemented his CIA payments
And bar income from money laundering,
drug smuggling, human smuggling
and other assorted crimes, big and small.
Big Daddy had lots of enemies
Many people wanted him dead
Relatives of his many victims
Of the covert wars, he waged
On behalf of his nation.
He was hoping to stay out of trouble
But one day trouble found him.
He moved to Bangkok, Thailand
Where he opened the Cosmos Bar
With the assistance of his manager.
Kuhn Lek, and her uncle
The police chief and his cousin
The biggest drug kingpin
In the Northern Triangle.
The Cosmos Bar
Became world-famous
The spot to go to is Bangkok.
Located in Soi Cowboy
It was an after-hours club
Secretly owned by the Thai police,
One of the few places
They served alcohol 24/7.
It was filled with
Criminals, drug dealers, government agents
Journalists, prostitutes, pimps,
spies, counter-spies, sex tourists,
tourists, undercover cops,
and assorted other low-lives,
From all over the known world.
Had the best-looking woman
The best-looking travesties too,
The best beer, wine, and liquor list
In the city,
And the best burgers in town.
It looked like the Bar
In Star Wars
Filled with probable human life forms
And perhaps a space alien or two.
One day a mysterious Korean woman
Came into the bar asking for him
By his universal nickname
“Big Daddy”
Maria Lee was a Korean-American
Drop-dead gorgeous woman
Who was on the lam
from her rich Korean husband.
She had one question for Big Daddy.
“The word in the Korean community
is that you are a man
who knows how to launder money.
Can you launder 50 million dollars?”
“Hmm for a fee.”
“What’s the fee?”
“A night of wild sex with you.”
“Done, but only after the deed is done.”
She smiled sweetly.
He called his underworld contacts
and they laundered the 50 million dollars
and he gave her the bank receipt.
He had parked the money
in a Cayman Islands account.
That night
she honored her agreement with Big Daddy.
The next morning
while drinking his cup of coffee,
she revealed that she had poisoned him
because she did not want anyone to know
about the transaction
and her affair with Big Daddy.
She smiled,
“Thanks, Big Daddy,
I liked last night,
You are a real stud, Big Daddy,
Perhaps that is why you are called, ‘Big Daddy’
But hey it is nothing personal, Big Daddy.”
After all, it was just a business deal in the end.
And that was
how trouble found Big Daddy.
Attack of Neighbor Bob Terrorist
One day
A man fell.
A rabbit hole.
On his computer,
Lost in thought.
when an odd event occurs,
the event that led.
to his untimely death.
He did not hear.
The footsteps,
Of the white
Christian nationalist
Domestic terrorist next door.
Who took exception?
To Sam’s living there
As Sam was not white
And an atheist “libtard.”
And his neighbor
Was a white supremacist.
Christian Nationalist.
His neighbor Bob.
Came at Sam with a chainsaw.
And struck him in the heart.
Killing him instantly.
Then using a torch
To burn the body.
Before using dynamite
To blow up the house
Despite the rain clouds
Outside.
All streamed live.
On his wifi.
trump jpg
Back in the Old Days, Trump Would Never Have President
Back in the old days
when political decisions
were made by insiders.
White men of power
who gathered.
in the proverbial
smoke-filled rooms.
smoking menthol cigarettes
and cigars
drinking whiskey
martinis and beer
while enjoying a steak dinner
and plotting political plots
in such a world
Trump would not have been.
allowed to become President.
as the political elites
would not allow.
such a Buffon
from taking power
They would despise.
such a vulgar low-class
new money guy.
Lucky in love, unlucky in cards
There is an adage
That sums up my life so far
One can be lucky in love
But unlucky in cards
That sums it up nicely
I have been lucky in love
Met and married
The girl of my dreams
Dreamed of meeting her
For eight years
Then she came into my life
Became my wife
But I have never been
Lucky in cards
I mean I have played
Poker with friends
But always lost
Won a little bit of gambling
But usually lost more
Then I won
Eventually gave up
Just not fun anymore
As I lost the gambling fever
Yet to get a jackpot
But then I think
I hit the jackpot of love
And that has made
All the difference
President Trump on Vermin AI Poem
A leader of a nation, a speaker of lies.
A spreader of hatred, a divider of ties
A mocker of the weak, a lover of the strong
A builder of walls, a singer of wrong
A hater of the different, a scorner of the same
A caller of the vermin, a blamer of the blame
An ignorer of the facts, a denier of the truth
A creator of the chaos, a destroyer of the youth
A loser of the election, a claimer of the fraud
A refuser of the concession, a violator of the law
An inciter of the violence, a fomenter of the storm
I next encountered the divine
Many years later in Berkeley, California
I had gone home to be with my Mother
While taking leave from my job
in the Foreign Service
I had two weeks there by myself
My wife came later
near the end of the trip
Every morning I woke up
Had my coffee, and breakfast
Did yoga while listening to music
And looking out at the garden
Then spoke to my mother
Who was sliding into dementia?
Day by day losing her reason
Then I would go out
And explore the city
Go to a museum
Go to one neighborhood
And just be there
Rediscovering the Bay area
After years of being away
Having dinner with old friends
Seeing movies etc
Every morning a black cat came to visit
The cat was friendly and waited for me
And then would join me in my morning rambles
Following me to the bus stop
I started talking to the black cat
He looked at me with a spark of divinity
In his dark eyes
I called him the cosmic cat
He seemed to like that
He would look at me
And I opened up to me
Told the cat all my dark secrets
As I walked the streets
Of the old neighborhood
Every morning and every evening the cat
Would be there to greet me
And to carry out our endless conversation
Then I had to leave
And in our final conversation
I asked the cosmic cat
Say, Cat are you just a cat
Or are you a demonic cat
Are you possessed by God?
Or by Satan
The cat looked at me
And I realized that God
Was indeed residing in the cat
But that god was residing everywhere
All I had to do was open my mind
And the rest would follow
So I said Goodbye to the cosmic cat
And he purred and came up to me
And I felt the comforting presence
Of the divine spirit of God
As I said goodbye to the cosmic cat
And said goodbye to my mother
As this was the last time
That we would be able to talk
I told my mother about the cosmic cat
She smiled and said that the cat
was there for me and her
to comfort us both in our hour of need
and that the cat was indeed
a cosmic cat
Carrying the light
We must carry the light
It is not so bright
Embracing the light with my wife
Still the center of my life
We both fear the dark
Nothing more to avoid strife.
Carrying the light
until the end of time
chasing away
the darkness that haunts.
my soul.
Presidential Election Cycle
The U.S. Presidential election cycle
Is a long-drawn-out affair.
Starts the day after the last election.
And ends a month after the votes.
Have been certified,
and the winner is determined.
As usual
Twenty candidates are announced.
For the election cycle
A year or so before
The actual vote.
The most important part
The donors chose.
Which candidates will get?
Their money and support
In the so-called invisible primary.
By January of an election year
Five to six serious contenders
Have emerged.
Battling it out nightly on the news
As the pundits weigh in
And voters begin to choose.
on multiple Super Tuesdays.
The candidates race across.
The land
Offering their vision,
Their hopes and fears.
As the public begins
To wake up
And start to choose.
The game is on foot.
with almost weekly debates
where the candidates
try not to make fools.
of themselves.
It continues until the summer.
When the conventions nominate
Someone as the standard bearer.
The losers concede.
But the intra-party feuding
Does not end.
In the end
There will be one person.
Left standing.
At the end of the roughest
Most competitive race
In the world.
That determines.
The fate of nations.
Voters in the end
Making the final call
As the presidential election season
Comes to a final decision point.
Berkeley Time Travels
I grew up in Berkeley, California
In the turbulent fabled late ’60s
And in Berkeley in those days
Time seems to stand at a standstill.
On the corner of Dwight and Telegraph
Across from People’s Park
It seems to be always May 1969
With the man
Down the street
Oppressing the hippies
On the street
As they smoked their weed
Dodging the bored cops
Who looked the other way?
If they did not partake
And then I went to college
In the valley
As I drove into Stockton
I felt I was traveling again.
In time
Back to the fabled ’50s
Stockton was also.
Stuck in a time warp of sorts.
And as I left the Bay area.
And traveled the world.
I would come back.
To that corner
And just be there.
Stuck in May 1969
Again
Marveling at the changes
That had and had not occurred.
To the corner of the land
Forever stuck in time
And space
Last Night I could not
Get to sleep at all
Last night I could not
Sleep
As my mind wandered
Down dark rabbit holes
Of fevered imagination
At 0 dark hundred hours
The wild things came out
To play
Torturing me
Until the sunrise
Blasted them
Back into the dark
Corners of my mind.
And the nightmares
Faded away
With the dawning sun.
BIng AI Love Poem
Angela Lee, you are the light of my life.
You fill my days with joy and my nights with dreams.
You are the reason I smile and the reason I breathe.
Welcome to Cosmos’ annual April Poetry Madness. Last year I wrote 300 poems in one month, this year I will write less, as that was just way too much to deal with.
Today’s poems will be April 8th poems, followed by April 9th to 15th in separate postings, one per day.
I will post them as I write them, and try to update them every day or so. I will finish May 1 US time, as that will still be April 30 KST (Korea, where I currently reside.) Most will be G rated but a few may not be. I will try to label those or not post them. The topics will be wherever my mad muse takes me, and I usually don’t have a clue until I write them.
I will post here the poems I wrote based on prompts from NaPoWriMo, (the poetry’s world’s equivalence to the annual NaNoWriMo novel competition which I will enter again in November). Writers’ com’s Dew Drop-in, Poetry Super-highway, Writers Digest, and occasionally other prompts. I will write a few more each day, but not post them, as I need to build up more “unpublished poems” for future submissions.
Daily posting All poetry, Anchor, this blog, FB, Medium, PSH, Wattpad, Writing com, and Writer’s Digest.
I will post each poem, followed by the prompt, occasional author and notes, and photos. I will convert it to a podcast later, available on anchor, radio public, blog radio, Spotify, and elsewhere under the name “The World According to Cosmos: or Jake Cosmos Aller. See the following for more information on the podcasts.
At the end of the month, I will add up the total poems written this month, total posted, total not-posted, and total YTD.
I have found that this annual exercise has been a big help in helping me hone my craft as I am entirely self-taught except for having taken the Mod Po class several times. It helps me stretch my poetic muscles. It has been a lot of fun but a challenge.
He was an ex-University of Arkansas
and Dallas cowboy player
who had worked for the CIA
The agency fired him
for murdering enemies of the state
at home in contravention of agency rules,
but they retained
his services from time to time.
He supplemented his CIA payments
And bar income from money laundering,
drug smuggling, human smuggling
and other assorted crimes, big and small.
Big Daddy had lots of enemies
Many people wanted him dead
Relatives of his many victims
Of the covert wars, he waged
On behalf of his nation.
He had moved to Bangkok, Thailand
after running a bar and grill
in Little Rock for a few years,
He opened the Cosmos Bar
With the assistance of his manager.
Kuhn Lek, and her uncle
The police chief and his cousin
The biggest drug kingpin
In the northern triangle.
The Cosmos Bar
Became world-famous
The spot to go to in Bangkok.
Located in Soi Cowboy
It was an after-hours club
Secretly owned by the Thai police,
One of the few places
That served alcohol 24/7.
It was filled with
Criminals, drug dealers, government agents
Journalists, prostitutes, pimps,
spies, counter-spies, sex tourists,
tourists, undercover cops,
and assorted other low-lives,
From all over the known world.
Had the best looking woman
The best-looking travesties too,
The best beer, wine, and liquor list
In the city,
And the best burgers in town.
It looked like the Bar in Star Wars
Filled with probable human life forms
And perhaps a space alien or two.
Trouble Found Big Daddy
He was hoping to stay out of trouble
But one day trouble found him.
One day a mysterious Korean woman
Came into the bar asking for him
By his universal nickname
“Big Daddy”
Maria Lee was a Korean-American
Drop-dead gorgeous woman
Who was on the lam,
from her rich Korean husband.
She had one question for Big Daddy.
“The word in the Korean community
is that you are a man
Who knows how to launder money.
Can you launder 50 million dollars?”
“Hmm for a fee.”
“What’s the fee?”
“A night of wild sex with you.”
“Done, but only after the deed is done.”
She smiled sweetly.
He called his underworld contacts
and they laundered the 50 million dollars
and he gave her the bank receipt.
He had parked the money
in a Cayman Islands account.
That night
she honored her
agreement with Big Daddy.
The next morning
while drinking his cup of coffee,
She revealed that she had poisoned him
because she did not want anyone to know
about the transaction
and her affair with Big Daddy.
She smiled,
“Thanks, Big Daddy,
I liked last night,
You are a real stud, Big Daddy,
Perhaps that is why you are called, ‘Big Daddy’
But hey it is nothing personal, Big Daddy.”
After all,
it was just a business deal
in the end.
And that was
how trouble found Big Daddy.
Today’s prompt comes to us from this list of “all-time favorite writing prompts.” It asks you to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice. Maybe your alter-ego is a streetwise detective, a superhero, or a very small goldfinch. Whoever or whatever your alternate self may be, I hope this prompt lets you stretch both your writing skills and your self-knowledge.
Watching Cats Fight in Incheon, NaPoWriMo
cat jpg
Watching two cats
Fighting alongside the sidewalk
In suburban Incheon New Airport Town.
Completely indifferent
To the humans walking around them
And the humans
were indifferent to the cats.
As they stood there fighting
And screeching at each other.
One orange one
One half-black-half-white one
Both middle age in cat years
As I sat there watching the cats
getting into it, I wondered
what they were arguing about?
But since I don’t speak cat
I didn’t know
All I know is they were screeching at each other
And almost looked like they were
about to attack each other
But one cat backed down
As the other cat stood their proverbial ground
If they were humans,
One would have pulled out a knife, or a gun
And someone would have been killed
But being mere cats
They stared at each other
And walked away.
But they kept glancing at each other
So, I knew the fight was not over
Merely postponed until a later hour.
Cats truly are the aliens
Who live among us humans
Or perhaps we are the aliens
Who live among the cats?
Creature—write a poem in the voice of some living creature that is not human.
Death of Big Daddy PSH
After Big Daddy was assassinated in Bangkok
His adult children arranged for his remains
To be brought back for a funeral
In his hometown of Little Rock.
Big Daddy, aka Sam Adams
was the man
who always had a plan.
He was an ex-University of Arkansas
and Dallas cowboy player
who had worked for the CIA
The agency fired him
for murdering enemies of the state
at home in contravention of agency rules,
but they retained
his services
from time to time.
After running a bar and grill
In Little Rock for a few years
He moved to Bangkok, Thailand
Where he opened the Cosmos Bar
With the assistance of his manager.
Kuhn Lek, and her uncle.
The police chief and his cousin
The biggest drug kingpin
In the northern triangle.
He supplemented his CIA payments
and bar income from money laundering,
drug smuggling, human smuggling
and other assorted crimes, big and small.
Big Daddy had lots of enemies
Many people wanted him dead
Relatives of his many victims
Of the covert wars, he waged
On behalf of his nation.
He was hoping to stay out of trouble
But one day trouble found him.
Big Daddy’s Funeral
The funeral was a big affair
Lots of people came to the funeral
Lots of people came to make sure
That SOB was indeed dead.
His children were hoping
To find out where his rumored
Millions of dollars were located.
Hoping that they could gain access
To the ill-gotten gains
Of his life of crime.
Big Daddy’s lawyer
Told them that his account info
Was one of many secrets
He had taken to his grave.
But they were now the owners
Of the Cosmos Club
Which was worth
millions of dollars.
His business partners were willing
To continue to run it
And send them 100 K each
For the year in royalties
Provided that they did not
Interfere in the management
Of the Cosmos Club.
They all agreed to the arrangement
And hired the lawyer
To track down the money.
The money was never found.
For his business partners
Had located it
And looted the account
Before anyone could find out.
April 8, 2022: Poetry Writing Prompt – Duane L Herrmann
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Duane L Herrmann:
“As the casket was lowered into the ground, the four adult children stood dry-eyed and looked at each other with knowing stares.”
Who was in the casket?
What did they know?
Did anyone else know?
What had the deceased done to them?
What will or did they do in response?
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group.
#napowrimo #poetry
The Fog Local Gems
Fog in SF
Note: one of my oldest poems was written in 1972 when I was 16. Revised as a Cherita.
The Fog
The Fog
Rolls in and in.
And on forever
Till the end of time
Past where once stood proud San-San.
Now there is nothing.
But bones rolling in
Forever and ever.
Rotting in the blue sunlight
Turning in the yellow clouds
filling the air
With the stench
The fear
The feel
Of a people forever dead
Merging with the fog
Filling the air.
The fog rolls in and in
Laughing as the Sun
Sinks into the purple coated sky
Above the encrusted sky of time
With the people of the earth
Just another dead civilization.
Berkeley Calling Me
