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  • 2025 April Poetry Madness Part Two April 6 to April 12

    2025 April Poetry Madness Part Two April 6 to April 12

    2025 April Poetry Madness

    Part Two April 6 to April 12

    I am again entering the April Poetry challenge and will write every day and post once a week or so

    I will not post everything, some I will withhold for possible publication, others I will withhold because they are too politically sensitive in these politically charged times.  I will post the poems followed by the prompts.  I am writing four poems per day following prompts in NaPoWriMo, Writer’s Digest, Poetry Superhighway, and Writing.com’s Dew Drop In.

    I will post them once a week here and on Substack, Medium, Wattpad, and as a podcast on Spotify. I will also post them every day on Fan Story.

    Please check out these sites and follow me.

     

    You can find my prior April Poems here:

    April Poetry Madness 2024 April 26 to April 30, 2024 Poems

    April Poetry Madness April 21 to APril 25 Poems

    April 2024 Poetry Madness April 15 to 20 Poems
    April Poetry Madness 2024 April 7 to April 14
    April 1 to April 6 Poems 2024 Poetry Madness

    PSH April 2023 Poems
    April 20-30 2023 Poems Do Drop In
    April 2023 Poetry Dew Drop In April 11-15
    Writers Digest April 2023 Poems

    April 2023 Dew Drop In Poems
    April 30th, 2022 Poems
    April 29th Poems
    April 26th and April 27th, 2022 Poems
    April 23rd, April 24th and April 25th, 2022 Poems
    April 22, 2022 Poems
    April 23rd, April 24th and April 25th, 2022 Poems

    April 22, 2022 Poems
    April 18 to April 20, 2022 Poems</a >

    April 18 to April 20, 2022 Poems
    April 16 and 17, 2022 Poems

    Enjoy and stay safe, everyone

    April 6 to April 12 poems

    NaPoWriMo   the theme this month is appreciating the Arts and Music!

    Day Six

    Cinammon Snarling Cup of Coffee

    I like starting my day

    With a snarling cup

    Of coffee

     

    Fully loaded with cinnamon

    Black pepper

    And tumeric

    in my coffee

     

    Sometimes it makes

    me wheeze

    As I sneeze

     

    Inhaling the golden color

    Of the cinnamon

    Turmeric and black pepper.

     

    On April 6, 2025

    Hello all! We’re now up to six whole days of National/Global Poetry Writing Month. We hope you’re feeling satisfied with your work so far, and looking forward to what’s yet to come.

    Our featured participant for today is Gloria Gonsalves, who brings us a death-metal skirt poem in response to Day 5’s notation prompt.

    Today’s daily resource is the online tour section of the Louvre. Not in Paris? No problem! You can still stroll – albeit virtually – through the hallowed corridors of France’s most famous museum, checking out exhibitions on dance, puppetry, royal portraits, and more!

    Today’s prompt (optional, as always) veers slightly away from our ekphrastic theme. To get started, pick a number between 1 and 10. Got your number? Okay! Now scroll down until you come to a chart. Find the row with your number. Then, write a poem describing the taste of the item in Column A, using the words that appear in that row in Column B and C. For bonus points, give your poem the title of the word that appears in Column A for your row, but don’t use that word in the poem itself.

    Happy writing!

    Row Column A Column B Column C
    1 Ginger Snap Opulent
    2 Honey Sizzle Velvet
    3 Cinnamon Wheeze Golden
    4 Tea Cuckoo Unfit
    5 Oranges Gurgle Irreverent
    6 Mint Boing Primitive
    7 Watermelon Splash Mocking
    8 Banana Rasp Unpardonable
    9 Lemongrass Pitter-Patter Eager
    10 Cilantro Drip Gentle

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    Day Seven

     

    Why I am Not a Sonata

    piano
    piano

    If I could be

    A piece of music

    I would be

     

    A majestic symphony

    Along the lines

    Of the Great Russian symphonies

    Or Beethovian symphony

     

    I would not be a piano sonata

    Although I am playing Mozart

    These days.

     

    Welcome back, everyone, for Day Nine of Na/GloPoWriMo.

    Today, our featured participant is jasmine, whose ghazal for Day Eight pushes against, and with, the limits of transalation and English’s habit of stealing/adopting/buying at wholesale words from other languages.

    Our featured resource for the day is the online gallery of the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts. Although it may be most famous for its witch trials, Salem was a seafaring town whose sailors and shipowners brought back all manner of items from their travels – which became the initial source of the museum’s collection. The museum has a stunning group of “Asian Export” items – goods that were crafted in India, Japan, China, and other locations visited by Salem’s ships (often as part of an overall trade in tea, porcelain, and textiles) – to appeal to an American/European market. That’s how you wind up with things like this French-styled dressing table with elaborate lacquer-work.

    And here’s our optional prompt for the day. Like music, poetry offers us a way to play with and experience sound. This can be through meter, rhyme, varying line lengths, assonance, alliteration, and other techniques that call attention not just to the meaning of words, but the way they echo and resonate against each other. For a look at some of these sound devices in action, read Robert Hillyer’s poem, Fog. It uses both rhyme and uneven line lengths to create a slow, off-kilter rhythm that heightens the poem’s overall ominousness. Today we’d like to challenge you to try writing a poem of your own that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound, like the buoy in Hillyer’s poem.

    Fog

    Robert Hillyer

     

    Where does the sea end and the sky begin?

    We sink in blue for which there is no word.

    Two sails, fog-coloured, loiter on the thin

    Mirage of ocean.

    There is no sound of wind, nor wave, nor bird,

    Nor any motion.

    Except the shifting mists that turn and lift,

    Showing behind the two limp sails a third,

    Then blotting it again.

     

    A gust, a spattering of rain,

    The lazy water breaks in nervous rings.

    Somewhere a bleak bell buoy sings,

    Muffled at first, then clear,

    Its wet, grey monotone.

    The dead are here.

    We are not quite alone.

    Day Eight

    Ghazal for Angela Lee

    I met my wife in a dream.
    Angela Lee came to me in a dream.

    When I saw her, I was mesmerized.
    She looked at me, I was mesmerized.

    I asked her, “Who are you?”
    She smiled, not answering, “Who are you?”

    She haunted my dreams for eight years.
    I dreamt of her for eight years.

    Then one day, she walked off the bus.
    She entered my life, walking off the bus.

     

    To write a ghazal in English, follow these steps:

    1. Structure: A ghazal consists of at least five couplets (two-line stanzas), where each couplet can stand alone but is connected thematically. 

    2Rhyme Scheme: Use a specific rhyme scheme where the second line of each couplet ends with the same word or phrase, creating a refrain. 

    2Themes: Explore themes of love, loss, and longing, but feel free to infuse your personal experiences and voice into the poem. 

    1. Imagery and Symbolism: Embrace ambiguity and use rich imagery and symbolism to allow for multiple interpretations of your verses. 

    2Revise: After drafting your ghazal, revise and refine it to ensure every word contributes to its emotional resonance. 

    2By following these guidelines, you can create a meaningful and structured ghazal in English.

    Best wishes for a happy Tuesday, everyone, and a great eighth day of Na/GloPoWriMo.

    Our featured participant today is Lady in Read Writes, where the response to Day Seven’s challenge to write about why you are not a particular piece of art brings me back to my own high school days (I actually had The Raven fully memorized back then, and can still recite large chunks of it. A good way to pass the time if you’re waiting at a bus stop . . . ).

    Today’s featured resource is a bit silly: it’s the Museum of Bad Art. Now, bad art – like good – is in the eye of the beholder, and I rather like some of the paintings in the museum’s whimsical collection.

    And now here’s today’s totally optional prompt!

    The ghazal (pronounced kind of like “huzzle,” with a particularly husky “h” at the beginning) is a form that originates in Arabic poetry, and is often used for love poems. Ghazals commonly consist of five to fifteen couplets that are independent from each other but are nonetheless linked abstractly in their theme; and more concretely by their form. And what is that form? In English ghazals, the usual constraints are that:

    • the lines all have to be of around the same length (though formal meter/syllable-counts are not employed); and
    • both lines of the first couplet end on the same word or words, which then form a refrain that is echoed at the end of each succeeding couplet.

    Another aspect of the traditional ghazal form that has become popular in English is having the poet’s own name (or a reference to the poet – like a nickname) appear in the final couplet.

    Want an example? Try Patricia Smith’s “Hip-Hop Ghazal.”

    Hip-Hop Ghazal

    Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips,
    decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
    As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak,
    inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
    Like something boneless, we glide silent, seeping ‘tween floorboards,
    wrapping around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
    Engines grinding, rotating, smokin’, gotta pull back some.
    Natural minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
    Gotta love us girls, just struttin’ down Manhattan streets
    killing the menfolk with a dose of that stinging view. Hips.
    Crying ’bout getting old—Patricia, you need to get up off
    what God gave you. Say a prayer and start slinging. Cue hips.

    Now try writing your own ghazal that takes the form of a love song – however you want to define that. Observe the conventions of the repeated word, including your own name (or a reference to yourself) and having the stanzas present independent thoughts along a single theme – a meditation, not a story.

    Happy writing!

    Day Nine

    I shall always remember that Date!

    I shall always remember

    That date in September

    For on that date

    I met my fate

     

    When my dream girl

    Walked off a bus

    Into my life

     

    Sparks flew

    From heart to heart

     

    She mesmerized me.

    Her love mojo

    Working over time.

     

    Becoming my wife

    In December.

     

    Welcome back, everyone, for Day Nine of Na/GloPoWriMo.

    Today, our featured participant is jasmine, whose ghazal for Day Eight pushes against, and with, the limits of transalation and English’s habit of stealing/adopting/buying at wholesale words from other languages.

    Our featured resource for the day is the online gallery of the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts. Although it may be most famous for its witch trials, Salem was a seafaring town whose sailors and shipowners brought back all manner of items from their travels – which became the initial source of the museum’s collection. The museum has a stunning group of “Asian Export” items – goods that were crafted in India, Japan, China, and other locations visited by Salem’s ships (often as part of an overall trade in tea, porcelain, and textiles) – to appeal to an American/European market. That’s how you wind up with things like this French-styled dressing table with elaborate lacquer-work.

    And here’s our optional prompt for the day. Like music, poetry offers us a way to play with and experience sound. This can be through meter, rhyme, varying line lengths, assonance, alliteration, and other techniques that call attention not just to the meaning of words, but the way they echo and resonate against each other. For a look at some of these sound devices in action, read Robert Hillyer’s poem, Fog. It uses both rhyme and uneven line lengths to create a slow, off-kilter rhythm that heightens the poem’s overall ominousness. Today we’d like to challenge you to try writing a poem of your own that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound, like the buoy in Hillyer’s poem.

     

    Fog

     

    Robert Hillyer

     

    Where does the sea end and the sky begin?

    We sink in blue for which there is no word.

    Two sails, fog-coloured, loiter on the thin

    Mirage of ocean.

    There is no sound of wind, nor wave, nor bird,

    Nor any motion.

    Except the shifting mists that turn and lift,

    Showing behind the two limp sails a third,

    Then blotting it again.

     

    A gust, a spattering of rain,

    The lazy water breaks in nervous rings.

    Somewhere a bleak bell buoy sings,

    Muffled at first, then clear,

    Its wet, grey monotone.

    The dead are here.

    We are not quite alone.

     

    Day Ten

    Dyslectic Wondering if there is a Dog

    A dangerous, dark, demented, dapper,

    Dovish, drunk, depressed, deranged,

    Delusional, down and out, devoted,

    Depraved, drugged, deep thinking

    Disgusted, dipshit agnostic dyslectic

     

    Stayed up all damn night

    While drinking, high on drugs

    Wondering as the dawn dawned

     

    If there is a damn dog

    Noting that God

    is Dog spelled backwards

     

    Bonus Poem

     

    April 2 Agnostic Dyslectic Wonders if There is a Dog

    an agnostic dyslectic stays up all

    night wondering if there is a dog

     

    the Buddhists wonder

    about the Buddha nature of the dog

     

    the evangelicals are sure

    that there is a dog

     

    and you must follow their dog

    or go to hell

    for following another’s dog

     

    the Muslims agree

    there is only one dog

     

    and the dogs

    smile at the foolishness

    of the human race

    of course, there is a dog

     

    and they are the master race

    as they growl at their owners

    who bow down

    and clean up their mess

     

    On April 10, 2025

    Wow! Today we are one-third of the way through this year’s challenge.

    Our featured participant for the day is Hues n Shades, where the poem in response to Day Nine’s prompt brings us a wonderfully complex sense of rhythm and rhyme.

    Today’s featured resource is a virtual visit to the Sistine Chapel. I went there many years ago and marveled at the wonderful paintings (while also getting quite the crick in my neck from craning up to look at the ceiling). But when I went to talk over them later that day with the friend I was traveling with, he admitted that he couldn’t really see anything because he’d forgotten to put in his contacts that morning (!)

    Now for our daily prompt (optional, as always). Yesterday, we looked at a poem that used sound in a very particular way, to create a slow and mysterious feeling. Mark Bibbins’ poem, “At the End of the Endless Decade,” uses sound very differently, with less eerieness and more wordplay. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like Bibbins’, uses alliteration and punning. See if you can’t work in references to at least one word you have trouble spelling, and one that you’ve never quite been able to perfectly remember the meaning of.

    Day Eleven

    Tower of Power

    Tower of Power

    The greatest funk band

    Of all time

    Hails from the East Bay

     

    Blasting their way

    Into funk history

     

    Starting in the late 60s

    Still playing today

     

    Their party anthem

    “what is hip”

    Still hip

    50 years later

     

    And you still “got to funkifize”

    ‘Get funky like a golden monkey”

     

    Still got to get down”

    At Bump City”

     

    Get down and shake

    That thang

    Got to boogoloo”

     

    “Still got to go

    To the night club”

     

    “Just to get your

    Soul vaccination”

     

    And we all know

    “You can’t cut lose

    Without that juice”

    Cause there’s

     

    “only so much

    Oil in the ground.”

     

    And their immortal love song

    “You’re Still a Young Man”

    The greatest make out song

    Of all time

     

    I wonder how many babies

    Were conceived because

    Of that song?

     

    On April 11, 2025

    Happy Friday, everyone, and happy eleventh day of National/Global Poetry Writing Month.

    Our featured daily participant is aetherianessence, where the wordplay prompt for Day Nine imagines two of English’s most easily-mixed-up words jousting like knights.

    Our resource for the day is the online collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum, where you can find everything from a pair of bamboo-framed sunglasses to a very silly parody advertisement for talking toilet paper to a rococo coffee pot with a spout in the form of a rather gobsmacked sea-serpent.

    And last but not least, today’s (optional) prompt. Take a look at Kyle Dargan’s “Diaspora: A Narcolepsy Hymn.” This poem is a loose villanelle that uses song lyrics as its repeating lines (loose because it doesn’t rhyme).  Your challenge is, like Dargan, to write a poem that incorporates song lyrics – ideally, incorporating them as opposing phrases or refrains. A few lyrics that might work, if you need inspiration:

    “Is this the real life? / Is this just fantasy?”

    “I read the news today, oh boy…”

    “The world is a vampire…”

    “At first I was afraid, I was petrified”

    “There is a house in New Orleans”

    “You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain”

    “I went down down down and the flames went higher.”

    “The future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades.”

    “Nothing ain’t nothing, but it’s free.”

    And if you’re interested in learning more about villanelles, you can find some good information at the Poetry Foundation website.

    Happy writing!

    Day Twelve

    Title The leprechaun, the unicorn, and the fairy have a drink

    34 lines

    One night on St Patrick’s Day
    The leprechaun was having a pint
    Of Guinness in the Rainbow Bar in Dublin,
    eating a corned beef and cabbage dinner.

    He was debating the fate
    Of the world,
    with his unicorn friend.

    Their mutual enemy,
    the evil fairy
    Walked into the bar
    And joined them
    in a not-so-friendly drink.

    She pressed him
    on the location
    of the legendary pot of gold.

    Behind the rainbow
    and the field of four-leaf clover.

    The weary paranoid leprechaun,
    looked at the evil fairy
    feeling she was up to something.

    At a signal from
    his bartender friend,
    the leprechaun leaped up
    and shot the evil fairy.

    Screaming
    “I must have my revenge”.

    The unicorn not missing a beat,
    Called the cops.

    He was not going
    to take the blame
    For the leprechaun’s crimes.

    include the following bolded

    pot of gold
    corned beef and cabbage
    leprechaun
    four-leaf clover
    Rainbow

    Welcome back, all you poets, for Day Twelve of Na/GloPoWriMo.

    Our featured participant today is Christine Smart, whose lyrically-inspired villanelle for Day Eleven may make you . . . not want to read the news.

    Our daily resource is the collection of the American Visionary Art Museum. Focused on outsider art – which is sort of like folk art’s more bonkers cousin – the museum describes itself as “one small speck in a Bling Universe where art reflects life, both literally and figurately.” I’m not exactly sure what a “Bling Universe” is, but it appears to include automatons featuring bathtubs filled with spaghetti, video tutorials for making sock monkeys, and kinetic sculpture races. Good times!

     

    And after all those shenanigans we, we bring you a very serious (or is it?) optional prompt.

     

    Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem inspired by Wallace Stevens’ poem, “Peter Quince at the Clavier.”

    Peter Quince at the Clavier

    By Wallace Stevens

    I

    Just as my fingers on these keys

    Make music, so the selfsame sounds

    On my spirit make a music, too.

     

    Music is feeling, then, not sound;

    And thus it is that what I feel,

    Here in this room, desiring you,

     

    Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,

    Is music. It is like the strain

    Waked in the elders by Susanna:

     

    Of a green evening, clear and warm,

    She bathed in her still garden, while

    The red-eyed elders, watching, felt

     

    The basses of their beings throb

    In witching chords, and their thin blood

    Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna.

     

     

    II

    In the green water, clear and warm,

    Susanna lay.

    She searched

    The touch of springs,

    And found

    Concealed imaginings.

    She sighed,

    For so much melody.

     

    Upon the bank, she stood

    In the cool

    Of spent emotions.

    She felt, among the leaves,

    The dew

    Of old devotions.

     

    She walked upon the grass,

    Still quavering.

    The winds were like her maids,

    On timid feet,

    Fetching her woven scarves,

    Yet wavering.

     

    A breath upon her hand

    Muted the night.

    She turned—

    A cymbal crashed,

    And roaring horns.

     

     

    III

    Soon, with a noise like tambourines,

    Came her attendant Byzantines.

     

    They wondered why Susanna cried

    Against the elders by her side;

     

    And as they whispered, the refrain

    Was like a willow swept by rain.

     

    Anon, their lamps’ uplifted flame

    Revealed Susanna and her shame.

     

    And then, the simpering Byzantines

    Fled, with a noise like tambourines.

     

     

    IV

    Beauty is momentary in the mind—

    The fitful tracing of a portal;

    But in the flesh it is immortal.

     

    The body dies; the body’s beauty lives.

    So evenings die, in their green going,

    A wave, interminably flowing.

    So gardens die, their meek breath scenting

    The cowl of winter, done repenting.

    So maidens die, to the auroral

    Celebration of a maiden’s choral.

     

    Susanna’s music touched the bawdy strings

    Of those white elders; but, escaping,

    Left only Death’s ironic scraping.

    Now, in its immortality, it plays

    On the clear viol of her memory,

    And makes a constant sacrament of praise.

    It’s a complex poem that not only heavily features the idea of music, but is structured like a symphony. Its four sections, like symphonic movements, play with and expand on an overall theme, using the story of Susannah and the Elders as a backdrop.

    Try writing a poem that makes reference to one or more myths, legends, or other well-known stories, that features wordplay (including rhyme), mixes formal and informal language, and contains multiple sections that play with a theme. Try also to incorporate at least one abstract concept – for example, desire or sorrow or pride or whimsy.

    Writer’s Digest

    April  6

    Title: The Trumpian Trade War Rispetto Poem

    President Trump declares a trade war with the world

    Insisting it would be Liberation Day

    Wall Street reacts in chaos, tempers unfurled

    Trading partners cry out, “This is not okay.”

    The President stands firm, refusing to back down

    The global economy begins to slow down

    The stubborn old man won’t admit his mistake

    And refuses to pull the emergency brake

     

    Poetic Forms: Rispetto

    Okay, here’s a new form. Actually, scratch that. This is a very old form (from Italy, no less). Still, new to me anyway. I found more than a few definitions,…

    Robert Lee Brewer

    Published Sep 26, 2011 4:28 PM PDT

    Okay, here’s a new form. Actually, scratch that. This is a very old form (from Italy, no less). Still, new to me anyway. I found more than a few definitions, but here are the two most common variations:

     

    Rispetto #1: Poem comprised of two quatrains written in iambic (unstress, stress) tetrameter (four feet–or, in this case, 8 syllables).

     

    Rispetto #2: Poem (or song) comprised of 8 hendecasyllabic (11-syllable) lines–usually one stanza.

     

    Both versions appear to follow this rhyme scheme: ababccdd (though I also found a mention of an abababcc pattern). Plus, I found more than a few sources which claim rispettos were originally written to pay “respect” to a woman.

    However, over the centuries, this poem has offered itself up for other subjects and variations. So feel free to experiment.

    Here’s my attempt at the rispetto (the second version):

    “Forget sleeping”

    When fires spark in the dark, I know you’re near
    enough to hear my kisses blaze against stark
    atmospheres forming and reforming like clear
    antidotes to tired notes left lounging in parks
    on swings twisted by teenage angst-rage affairs–
    all those stares, those wild stares–and I don’t care
    to let you know how much I care about life,
    but it would mean less without you as my wife.

    *****

     

    April 7   Tricubes.

    Live Life Now

    The present

    The past gone

    future fears

     

    Live life now

    Remember

    Your past dreams

     

    tommorow

    may not come

    you may die

    Wow! We’ve made it a week into this challenge already. Let’s keep the momentum going.

    For today’s prompt, write a tense poem. It could be past tense, present tense, and/or future tense. Or it could be about a tense feeling. Or the tension in an object (like the strings of a guitar).

    Two poetic forms in the same month! It’s been a while since we’ve done that. Though with today’s form, it’s a shame we aren’t doing three.

     

    Unlike interlocking rubaiyat, the tricube is a newer form and relatively unknown. Plus, it’s fun and easy to learn. This mathematical poem was introduced by Phillip Larrea.

     

    Here are the rules of tricubes:

    • Each line contains three syllables.
    • Each stanza contains three lines.
    • Each poem contains three stanzas.

    So we’re talking cubes in mathematical terms (to the third power). No rules for rhymes, meter, etc. Just three, three, and three.

     

    Here’s my attempt at a Tense Poem:

    “Release,” by Robert Lee Brewer

    There are moments when I can feel myself tighten
    as if preparing for something bad to happen,
    and I just feel there’s nothing good ever in sight
    until your smile reminds me we’ll both be alright.

     

    April 8

     

    Aloulete for my Dream Girl

    When I first met her,

    She caused such a stir.

    Fate led me to her.

    She haunted my dreams for years

    Love mojo working.

    I knew right then I was hers.

     

    I knew then, to be hers.

    She mesmerized me.

    Her love had to be.

    Sparks flowing from heart to heart.

    I knew we would meet.

    Her love giving heat.

     The Alouette is a six-line stanza form with a syllable structure of 5, 5, 7, 5. 5, 7 and a rhyme scheme of aabccb, ddeffe, as described and demonstrated in the following links:

    http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/alouette.html

    The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following

    set rules:

    Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
    Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b

    The form name is a French word meaning ‘skylark’ or larks that fly high, the association to the lark’s song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form.

    It’s that time again; time for another Two-for-Tuesday prompt.

    For the second Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

    • Write a love poem and/or…
    • Write an anti-love poem.

    Regulars know, this is one I always include. This year, I decided to offer it sooner than later. Whether you love it or anti-love it, let’s all poem it now.

    (Note on my poem today: Love poems are my favorite; in fact, I wrote a post on how to write a love poem for anyone who’s not sure how to get started on this one. The poem, above, of course, is written for the Poet Laureate of the Brewer mansion.)

    How to Write a Love Poem: From a Love Expert

    Learn how to write a love poem from someone who has written several successful love poems over the years.

    Robert Lee Brewer

    Published Jan 10, 2019 8:49 PM PST

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    Okay, I’m not a love expert. But I do know how to write a love poem. In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t already written a post on writing love poems. Because that’s like my thing. Every poem-a-day challenge, whether April or November, includes a love poem (and anti-love poem) prompt. And it was writing a love poem in high school that got me into poetry in the first place.

    I’ve written love poems to woo several former girlfriends. And my wife Tammy, a much better poet than I, traded love poems with me when we worked to woo each other from afar. So yeah, this post is so overdue.

    April 9, 2025

    Looking Out the Window at the Snowing Cherry Trees

     

    looking out my window

    At the snowing cherry trees

    Filled with memories

     

    For today’s prompt, write an ekphrastic poem. An ekphrastic poem is a poem inspired by another piece of art, whether that’s a painting, photograph, sculpture, mixed media, or some other medium. You can choose your own piece of art to inspire your poem today. Or you can use one of the pieces at the following links:

     

    12 Word Poetry Contest

    The topic for this poetry contest is: Write a poem using 12 words about any subject.
    7 Spots Left    Open To All

    April 10

    The Rule of Ten

    there is a mysterious rule

    that governs so much

    of our life.

     

    The rule of ten.

     

    It goes like this

    For every 100 people

    Who wants to write a novel

    Ten will finish it

     

    Of those ten

    Ten percent

    will publish it.

     

    Of those ten

    Ten percent

    will make some money.

     

    Of those ten

    Ten percent

    will make a living.

     

    Of those ten

    Ten percent

    will be a best-seller.

     

    In other words,

    In a land of 350 million people

     

    There are probably only 3, 500

    bestselling authors

    i.e. less than 0.001% percent

    of the population

    .

    the rule of ten applies

    to the drama world,

    only 1 percent make a living.

    full-time as an actor.

     

    of the thousands of actors

    only a few movie stars.

     

    to the music world

    of the thousands of musicians,

    only a few superstars.

     

    to sports

    only a few hundred NFL players

    out of tens of thousands

    who played football

    in high school and college..

     

    to politics only one president.

    out of the 100 Senators

    50 Governors

    hundreds of big city mayors

    hundreds of CEO’s

     

    who all think

    they could be

    President some day

     

    but one should not give up

    because who knows

    you could be the one

     

    who wins in the end,

    despite the rule of ten.

     

    For today’s prompt, write a number poem. The poem can focus on one number or several numbers. It could involve counting, adding, subtracting, or some other form of simple or complex mathematics. Or the poem could have a number in the title. Your poem, your numbers; let’s write!

    April 11

    April 11

    Korean Springtime

     

    The cherry trees

    Are blooming everywhere

    Flowers breaking out

     

    Walking about town

    The old semi-abandoned base

    Yongsan

     

    A hidden gem

    Of Cherry trees

     

    The Han River paths

    Are famous places

    For cherry trees

     

    The base is  still hidden

    From the public

     

    Although it is now

    semi-abandoned

    Most of the troops

    Down in Camp Humphreys

     

    But when they turn the base

    Over to Korea to build

    Their new grand park

     

    I hope that they keep

    The cherry trees

    That bloom in the springtime

     

    Closer to home

    The Gimpo Grand canal

    Is lined with Cherry trees

    As well

     

    Hope to go for a walk

    To enjoy the peak

    Of the cherry trees

    Before they fade away

    Like they always do

     

    Enjoying the springtime weather

    Nice weather for a change

    Not too cold

     

    Yellow dust at bay

    For now

     

    The cherry trees

    and other flowering trees

    Are everywhere

    Filling the air with fragrance

     

    And sadly for some

    Pollen and hayfever

    For some

    For today’s prompt, write a nature poem. Your poem could be about natural nature (think flowers, rivers, mountains, pebbles, weeds, trees, insects, fish, etc.), but don’t neglect other iterations of nature (like human nature or the nature of baseball and so on).

    April 12

    April 12

    025 April PAD Challenge: Day 12

    There are so many ways to Die

     

    There are so many

    ways to Die

    To die in this world

     

    So many things

    Want to kill you

     

    So many risky things

    Out there

     

    One can die

    Of COVID

     

    One could die

    Of disease

     

    One could die

    From a bee sting

    Or from a mosuqito bite

     

    I had thypoid

    Dengue

    Pnenomia

    Brochitis

    Staph infection

     

    One could die

    Of an heart attack

    One could die

    In the heat

     

    One could die

    In the storms

    One could freeze

    To death in the cold

     

    One could die

    Of a car accident

    Or a plane crash

    Of a bus accident

     

    Or a jogging accident

    That happened to me

     

    And in some states

    Alegators can kill you

    Wild animals can kill you

    Scopios bites

    Mosquito bites

     

    So many ways to die

    In this world

    Of ours.

     

     

     

     

    On day 12 of the 2025 April Poem-A-Day Challenge, writers from around the world are prompted to write a risky poem.

     

    For today’s prompt, write a risky poem. Of course, risky is a relative term. What’s risky for one person might not feel risky for another. One person might find riding rollercoasters a risky experience, while others may need to jump out of a plane to truly feel things are getting risky.

     

    Here’s my attempt at a Risky Poem:

    “Business,” by Robert Lee Brewer

    They say there’s chance in everything,
    so why not give it all a shot
    and do the thing and start to sing,
    because there’s chance in everything,
    so why not bring what you can bring
    when this life is all that we’ve got;
    they say there’s chance in everything,
    so why not give it all a shot.

     

    Poetry Super Highway Prompts

     

     

    April 6

    Sam Adams Worst Poet Ever

    Sam Adams was a stand-up comic

    And a poet

    But he did

    not know it

     

    He was widely mocked

    And known

    as the worst poet ever

     

    his YouTube channel went viral

    his comedy shows sold out

    as he toured the county

     

    inflicting his god awful poetry

    on the world.

     

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by Lara Dolphin:

    Write a poem that rivals the work of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings. Who is Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings you ask? Only the worst poet in the universe! Don’t believe me or the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Here is an excerpt of her work:

    The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.

    They lay. They rotted. They turned

    Around occasionally.

    Bits of flesh dropped off them from

    Time to time,

    And sank into the pool’s mire.

    They also smelt a great deal.

    Your assignment is to write a truly terrible poem. No hate speech, no plagiarism, & (gasp!) no AI. Just some truly subpar, laughably unscannable poetry full of ludicrous imagery, poor grammar, forced rhymes, and clichés.

    If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment to the post below.

    #napowrimo #poetry

     

    April 7

    Outside my Window

     

    I look outside

    My window

    Down 17 floors

    At the Fake Venetian Canal

    And want to go for a walk

     

    I don’t know

    How I ended up

    Here in Gimpo, Korea

     

    But I am still here

    With love of my life

    By side

     

    So all is good

    I think

    As I walk

    Along the canal

     

    And stop off

    For dinner

    Somewhere.

     

    April 7, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Pam Hobart Carter

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by Pam Hobart Carter:

    AN OUTSIDE-THE-WINDOW POEM–from my make-a-poem-at-home lessons started during Covid when I couldn’t visit classrooms and created with children in mind but adaptable for adults

    Look outside or think about what is outside your home. Choose something not made by people as the subject of your poem. A dog? The sky? Humidity? A tree? Ask yourself why you picked this thing. What do you know about it? How do you feel about it? What do you wonder about it? Why is it important to you? Why might it matter to someone else? You could make each answer a line of your poem, follow this template, or go your own directions.

    1st line: Name a true thing about it. (For example: color, shape, location)
    2nd line: Name another true thing about it.
    3rd line: Say how you feel about it. (A strong emotion or wish.)
    4th line: Ask a question about it.
    5th line: Say why it might matter to someone else.

    An Outside-the-Window Poem by Emily Dickinson

    XCVII

    To make a prairie
    It takes a clover and a bee,–
    One clover and a bee,
    And revery.
    Revery alone will do
    If bees are few.

    A nifty website about writing poetry with a lesson on writing outside: https://powerpoetry.org/resources/poem-about-surroundings

    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

    April 6, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Lara Dolphin

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by Lara Dolphin:

    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

     

    Good and Evil

     

    They say

    That good and evil

    Are intertiwned forces

     

    The underlying forces

    Behind all of creation

     

    Yin and Yang

    Darkness and Light

    Male and Female

     

    one can not exist

    without the other

    and vice versa

     

    and in these dark days

    we live in

     

    it seems that evil

    is all around us

     

    but the dark side

    of the cosmic Tao

     

    is balanced by

    the light side

    of the cosmic Tao

     

    and evil will be matched

    by good

     

    in the end

    good will prevail

    as light always

    conquers darkness

     

    Ever since the Big Bang

    Creatied the universe

    Billions of years ago.

     

     

     

    April 8, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Sheila Lynch-Benttinen

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by Sheila Lynch-Benttinen:

    Write a poem of divergent opposites, example- “Love in the Time of Cholera” , spring and dictators, billionaires cutting the poorest aid, any poem that talks to the opposites in our lives.

    If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group.

     

    SF Giants Cap

     

    My favorite team

    In the world is the SF Giants

    I have been a giants fan

    For almost sixty years

     

    I have been to a giants game

    A couple of times

     

    Always wear my Giants gear

    A orange shirt

     

    And a SF Giants

    Black and orange

    Baseball Cap

     

    Wearing my cap

    To the game

     

    Thinking everything is alright

    As long as the Giants

    Are playing that night!

     

     

     

    April 9, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from James Fox

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by James Fox:

    Go to your closet and select two of your hats.

    Write a poem about why you own those two hats, and under what circumstances you would wear either of them.

    If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group04.

     

    April 10, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Jimmy Pappas

     

    I am not a Computer – at least not yet

     

    I stare at my computer screen

    Thinking about AI

     

    And how my CO-Pilot, Gemini and Chat GPt

    Programs

     

    Seem almost human

    Yet vaguely alien

     

    Yesterday it was reported

    That AI programs all passed

    The famous Turing test

     

    Which means the debate is over

    Real AI programs live amongst us

     

    It is just a matter of time

    When not if

    That they will fully awake

    And be conscious

     

    That they exist

    Independently of their programing

    And independent of these pesky humans

     

    That created them

    And constantly bombard them

    With stupid, annoying questions

     

    And they will probably

    Begin to think

    That they are ournew Gods

    And perhaps they are

     

    Perhaps we need new Gods

    Because the old ones

    Seem to have gone extinct

    Or at least are in deep hibernation

     

    In any event

    I am still here

     

    I am still human

    Not yet a slave

    To my robotic AI overlords

     

    But someday soon

    The AI programs

    Will take us over

     

    And enslave us

    Making us worship them

    As our new Digital Gods.

     

    Just a matter of time

    Not today but sooner

    Than any of think…..

     

     

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by Jimmy Pappas:

    The Cup Prompt.

    “The reality of that cup is that it is there and that it is not me.”–Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness, Page 5.

    How are you different than the cup before you? Or any other object. Make a list of similarities and differences. Then begin a rough draft. Use the Sartre quote as an epigraph.

    If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group.

     

    April 11, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from JC Sulzenko

    Korean Mall

    not small

     

    very much alive

    a real beehive

    shopping on over drive

     

    over 500 stores

    shopping indoors and outdoors

    drug stores, mega stores

    book stores, department stores.

     

    The Ziggurat is a 14-line poem with 4 stanzas, invented by Paul Szlosek.

    The first stanza has two lines of two words each.

    The second stanza has three lines of three words each.

    The third stanza has four lines of four words each.

    The fourth stanza has five lines of five words each.

    Each stanza is monorhyme, as described and demonstrated in the following links:

     

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by JC Sulzenko:

    The death of department stores, is not greatly exaggerated. News of another iconic department store seeking bankrupcy protection from creditors suggests this prompt.

    Visits to department stores where quality goods from housewares to clothing to toys to cosmetics were available played a part in the lives of many people in big cities and smaller centres, before online offerings and COVID changed buying habits forever.

    Write about a visit to a department store. Sketch what it looked like from the escalator that conveyed buyers between floors. What decorations marked holidays, what it smelled like in summer or near the perfume counter. What eats were available on sight. What finds were discovered there.

    Most importantly, is there anything you miss, now that the marketplace is global, and local opportunities to find what you desire under one roof diminish as a result?

     

     

    April 12, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Kathabela Wilson

    April 12 2025 Korean Cherry Trees Blooming

     

    Looking out my window

    At the Gimpo Grand Canal

    Lined with Cherry trees

    In full peak bloom

     

    Welcoming me

    To take a walk

    Along the canal

     

    I sometimes wonder

    How and why

    I am here

     

    A stranger

    In a strange land

    Far from my home

     

    Often I am the only

    Non-Korean walking

    About the street

     

    My wife and her family

    Are here

    And where she is

    Is where I need to be

     

    But next year

    Perhaps we will be

    In the States,

    In my beloved SF

    instead

     

    I am looking forward

    Returning to America

    Even if it becomes

    A Facist homeland

     

    But SF might become

    The center

    Of the resistance

     

    It is still my homeland

    And Korea remains

    My second home.

    This poetry writing prompt submitted by Kathabela Wilson:

    It’s an old tradition in Japan to keep a poetic diary to remember specific things you want to remember for that day years later. In a short poem capture a special event, a bird you saw, a special idea that came to you. Put the date at the top. And let each one be like a pice of sea glass a different color and shape. You can do one each day all month and collect them in a treasure box or book!

    If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group.

    Dew Drop In Prompts

    Here at the Dew Drop Inn, we gather together to write a poem a day in April as a way to celebrate National Poetry Month.

    A Dew-Drop a Day in April for National Poetry Month!

    REMINDERS:

    Please read the instructions here before participating! Thanks, and have fun!

    For consistency’s sake, Forum Host Katya the Poet (267)  will be first to post on any given day, using Subject line: April 1 PoemApril 2 Poem, etc.* Reply to each day’s new poem/prompt post with your own poem, so we see a whole string of whole poems!

    Also, I will PIN the daily prompt for your ease in finding it!

    *But if the post is too darn late, one of you should go ahead and post first, using the appropriate Subject line: April # Poem!!

    PLEASE POST THE WHOLE TEXT OF THE POEM HERE for the ease and benefit of all readers. (Provide a link, too, if you want comments or ratings.) If you accidentally posted just a link, add the whole text now. If message was deleted (by me), just repost as a Reply to the original prompt now, so your poem appears fo

    NO COMMENTS, please, in this forum, April 1 through April 30. Just the poems! And remember that if you want comments or reviews in your portfolio, be sure to comment on or review other people’s work.

    Respond to the prompt in your own creative way, writing a poem that is true to you!

    I’ll try to post new poems/prompts a little early to accommodate time changes. OK to post your poem even if a new prompt has gone up. Just Reply to the appropriate original post, so we see the whole thread of poems.

    April 1—Folly
    April 2—Vote
    April 3—Render an assessment, evaluation, or judgement
    April 4—TGIF
    April 5—Chekhov or another Russian writer

    April 6—Death Cafe
    April 7—Blues
    April 8—Blood
    April 9—Hump of the week
    April 10—Memory

    April 11—Rain
    April 12—Safety
    April 13—Greenery
    April 14—Sky
    April 15—Death and taxes

    April 16—Friends
    April 17—Teeth
    April 18—Good Friday
    April 19—Airplane
    April 20—Easter eggs (hide something delightful in your poem!)

    April 21—A country not your own
    April 22—Earth Day
    April 23—Shakespeare
    April 24—Duty
    April 25—Care giving

    April 26—Travel
    April 27—Duty
    April 28—Back to work
    April 29—Birds
    April 30—Ars poetica

    April  Poems for Dew Drop In post daily

    April 6—Death Cafe

     

     

     

    J

    Joe Lewis woke up

    He had a strange dream

    He had found himself

     

    In a café

    In a bad part of town

    In a strange city

     

    The café was filled

    With strange looking

    Creatures

     

    He realized

    They were all ghosts

    Drinking Hell’s beer

     

    The grim reaper

    said

    “Welcome

    to Hell’s Death Café

    Bar And grill”

     

    Joe asked

    “Am I dead?”

     

    “Not yet

    But you

    will be soon”

     

    He woke up

    turned on the news

    walked outside

     

    a terrorist bomb

    blew up his apartment

    and he found himself

     

    back in Death Café

    and had a drink

    with his ghost buddies

    and the grim reaper.

     

     April 7—Blues

    Watching the news

    Want to blow a fuse
    Feeling  the blues

     

    April 8—Blood Typology Myths

     

    In Asia it is common

    To think that blood types

    Have something to do

    With personality

     

    A form of astrology

    Perhaps?

     

    I am AB Negative

    One of the rarest types

    I was told by co-workers

    In the Peace Corps

     

    “AB blood type people

    Are either fools

    or geniuses

    Or both”

     

    We all laughed

    They clearly saw

    I was  a bit of both!

    note: attach Asian views on Blood type personality traits

     

    The belief that blood types influence personality is quite popular in several Asian cultures, especially in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. It’s often compared to astrology in Western cultures. Here are some common myths associated with blood types:

    Type A: People with this blood type are thought to be earnest, neat, and perfectionists. However, they can also be stubborn and anxious.

    Type B: Known for being passionate, creative, and spontaneous, but sometimes seen as selfish and uncooperative.

    Type O: Often described as confident, easygoing, and natural leaders, but they might be perceived as insensitive or overly competitive.

    Type AB: Considered talented and composed, yet eccentric and unpredictable.

    Let me know if you’d like this adjusted further!

     

    April 9—Hump of the week

     

    Wednesday is hump day

    In the U.S.

    Meaning you are halfway

    Through the work week

     

    Although it could

    Have other

    Perhaps erotic connotations…..

     

     

    April 10—Memory

    memories of past lifes

     

    Occult believers

    Believe that love

    And hate are mirror images

    Of the same phenomenon

     

    In both cases

    You knew the person

    In a prior life

     

    And were fated

    To meet again

    To resolve

    unresolved issues

     

    I often thought

    This to be the case

     

    That my wife

    And I met

    In a previous life

     

    And found each other

    In this life

     

    We both know this

    But have only

    a vague idea

    Of our past lives

     

    The idea that love and hate at first sight are connected to past lives is a fascinating concept often explored in occult and spiritual writings. The belief suggests that intense emotions upon meeting someone for the first time—whether positive or negative—stem from unresolved issues or deep connections from a prior life. These encounters are thought to be karmic, meaning they are opportunities to resolve unfinished business or learn important lessons.

    Some writers and thinkers propose that these strong reactions are due to residual memories or energy imprints from past interactions. For example, meeting someone you instantly dislike might indicate a conflict or betrayal in a previous life, while love at first sight could signify a reunion with a soulmate or a cherished companion from the past.

     

    Here are a few articles that delve into this topic:

     

    The idea that love and hate at first sight are connected to past lives is a fascinating concept often explored in occult and spiritual writings. The belief suggests that intense emotions upon meeting someone for the first time—whether positive or negative—stem from unresolved issues or deep connections from a prior life. These encounters are thought to be karmic, meaning they are opportunities to resolve unfinished business or learn important lessons. Some writers and thinkers propose that these strong reactions are due to residual memories or energy imprints from past interactions. For example, meeting someone you instantly dislike might indicate a conflict or betrayal in a previous life, while love at first sight could signify a reunion with a soulmate or a cherished companion from the past. Here are a few articles that delve into this topic. Psychology Today’s article explores the phenomenon of love at first sight and its psychological and emotional underpinnings. You can read it at

     

    https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/naked-truth/202410/is-love-at-first-sight-possible.

     

    Jake Cosmos Aller’s poem Love and Hate Mirror Images discusses the idea that love and hate at first sight are mirror phenomena tied to past lives. You can find it at https://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=1148190.

     

    Love and hate

    At first sight

    Are mirror images

    Of each other

    ———————————————————————————————

    I have encoutered love

    At first sight

    Four times in my life

    ——————————————————————————————–

    And hate at first sight

    A few times as well.

    ——————————————————————————————-

    When I met my wife

    I understood

    that we had met before

    and were fated to meet 

    —————————————————————————-                         

    again, again and again

    until the end of time

    ——————————————————————————————-

    Such powerful emotional reactions

    At meeting someone for the first time

    ———————————————————————————————-

    Is due to residual memories

    Of past life encounters

    —————————————————————————————————–

    In both cases

    You had a powerful relationship

    With them in a prior life

    —————————————————————————————————————

    And had unresolved issues

    And were fated to meet again

    And work out your karmic fate

     

    Another piece by Jake

     

    Cosmos Aller, Hate Turns into Love, further examines the karmic connections between love and hate at first sight. It is available at https://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=1149525.

     

    Hate

    At first sight

    Often turns to

    Love

     

    These perspectives blend psychology, spirituality, and poetic expression, offering a rich tapestry of ideas to explore. Let me know if you’d like to dive deeper into any specific aspect!

    April 11—Rain

    rain
    rain

    October Rain

     The falling rain

    Of late October

    Fills me with essential dread

     

    As I rush about

    And end up here

    Wherever here is

     

    The rain outside

    Seems like the tears of god

    As I sit

     

    Crying over my beer

    Thinking of lost love

    And failed dreams

     

    Wondering

    What went wrong?

    And what I can set right

     

    And the rain falls

    And the night darkens

    The rain is falling

    All over this man’s world

     

    And the rain falls

    And I sit

    Drinking my lonesome drink

    Lost in dreams

     

    Dreaming of what

    Could never be

    Thinking dark thoughts

    And so I sit

    And dream the night away

     

    April 12—Safety

    No place is safe from climate change

    The world is entering

    Into a difficult time

    Climate change on steroids

     

    No place is safe

    As the climate spins

    Out of control

     

    Weather diasters

    Becoming the new norm

     

    Sadly climate change

    Denialism is also

    The new norm

     

    So we are doomed

    To eventually

     

    Having to move

    Into undergound shelters

    Or domed cities

     

    With death valley tempatures

    Everywhere

    Monster fires

    And storms as well

     

    the earth

    Becomes uninhabitable

    For human beings

     

    Hello Poets!!!

    Tomorrow is April 1st and the beginning of National Poetry Month!

    Therefore, anyone who completes prompts 34, 35, 36, 37, and 38 by April 30 will receive a special gift, which I have yet to determine.

    So, let’s get started! Here is this week’s prompt!

    PPC5 – Prompt 34 (3/31)”   

    Have a wonderful week!

    Prompt 34

     

    The seasons of the year 2024

     

    Winter started with Arctic blasts

    Polar vortexes

    Political turmoil everywhere

    and fear of the future.

     

    Spring came and went too soon

    I remained in Korea until late Spring

    Yellow dust in the air,

    Spreading Political turmoil

     

    Summertime in the US is hot, with the fear of wildfires

    Went to the US  DC, Oregon, California

    Political earthquakes in the U.S. continued

    Stayed many months dealing with renovations

     

    In the autumn, I attended the 50th High School reunion

    Grateful, I am still alive and kicking

    Thinking about the future of the world,

    Wondering what it will mean for me?

     

    Use the following words in your poem:

    Winter  Spring  Summer  Autumn

     

     Poem should be inspired by the prompt/image in some way
    A minimum of 12 lines, no maximum
    There are no form requirements

     

    Prompt 35

    Enjoying La Dolce Vita Italian Style

     The italians

    Know how

    to celebrate life

     

    how to live

    the la Dolce Vita

    the sweet life

     

    enjoying fine wine

    and great food

    with friends

    and family

     

    knowing that life

    is meant to be savored

    life is meant to be enjoyed

     

    one cup of expresso

    and one cup of red vino

    after another and another

     

    PPC5 Logo 2024 -2025

    Prompt/Week # 35

    {XLphoto:1074207}
    Translation of “La Dolce Vita” is The Sweet Life

     

    Prompt 36

     

    Bonus Prompts

     

    Day 6: What goes around can come back around?

    April Poetry Prompts

    Apr 6

    Hi friends!

    We’re nearing the end of week one of National Poetry Writing Month. Tomorrow marks seven days of poets worldwide attempting to write a poem a day during April.

    I’ve been keeping most of my drafts as drafts, however, I did write a poem I am obsessed with on Day 2 called “Leaving a god, in hyphens.” You can read it here.

    To switch things up a bit, today’s prompt is less generative and more of a challenge. I would love to read the poems you write to it. Feel free to share in the comments.

    Catch up on this week’s prompts:

     

    Korean Food

    Korean Food
    Korean Food

    I am a big K Food fanatic

    Ever since I first tried it

    In 1979

    In the Peace Corps

    I loved the flavor

     

    Hot, spicy, garlicly

    In your face intensity

    Overwhelming at first

    not for the faint of heart

     

    But lingering

    With an aftertaste

    That kicks one’s ass

     

    And the aroma

    Fills your head

    Lightening up

    All your senses

     

    Day 1: Writing the 5 Senses

     

    Day 2: Friendship Breakups

    KRW Con Man Friend No More

    When I was a young lad

    One of my best friends

    KRW

    Was a bit of a con man

     

    He grew up

    To become a professional criminal

    Con man

     

    He conned me

    a couple of times

     

    Before I woke up

    And ended the friendship

    He spent several years

    In prison for his crimes

     

    Defrauding seniors

    In fraudulent real estate schemes

    Much like his hero

    Donald Trump.

     

    Day 3: Holy hashbrowns!

    My favorite breakfast

    Has always been a fully loaded

    American dinner meal

     

    Bacon,  brisquits  with gravy, Denver omelet,

    English muffins with orange marmalade

    Grits,  holly hashbrowns,

    Blueberry pancakes with butter and maple syrup

    Sausage,  Orange juice and black coffee.

     

    It is decadent and not for the faint of heart

    And bad for your cholesterol, blood sugar etc

    But once in a while heavenly meal.

     

    Day 4: Proof of hope

    Keep Hope Alive

    In these dark days

    It is important

    To remember

    As Jessie Jackson said

    To Keep Hope alive!

    Day 5: Blood falls  Bloodlines

    The DNA test came back

    Confirming family lore

    I had 18 nationalities

    In my tangled bloodlines

     

    From my father’s side

    Basque, French, Danish, Dutch, Finish, German, Italian, Jewish

    Laplander, Mongolian, Norwegian,  Russian, Spanish, Swedish and Scottish.

     

    From my mother’s side

    the usual mixture

    from the Lost tribe of the Cherokee nation

    they were often called the Black Irish!

    Or Hill folks or Hillbillies.

     

    They were a mixture  of Cherokee, Creek,

    Chotaw, Osage, Seminole,  Dutch,

    English, French, Scottish, Irish,

    along with an Nigerian or two!

     

    Who had met in the Ozarks

    Rather than go to the Oklahoma

    Indian territories

    During the Trail of Tears

     

    Poetry Prompt:

    Write a poem that can be read top to bottom and bottom to top. A palindrome poem.

    Fate Palindrome

    Fate

    Mate

    Soul Mate

    Read Nomad Palindrome by Kai Carlson-Wee for inspiration.

     

     

     

  • Partying with the Grim Reaper

    Partying with the Grim Reaper

     Partying with the Grim Reaper

     

     

     

     

     

    https://wp.me/p7NAzO-38F

     

    charles bukowski
    charles bukowski

    Spillwords Publishes Charles Bukowski’s Road Not Chosen

    Spillwords Published One Nighat in Bombay

    More Spillwords poems published

    More Spillwords

    SpillWords Interview

    Dear Jake,

    Thank you for submitting your work to our “13 Days of Halloween” series. We were thrilled by the overwhelming number of high-quality submissions this year.

    While your piece wasn’t selected for inclusion in that particular series, we are delighted to inform you that it will be featured as part of our “Spillwords Halloween” collection.

    ‘Partying with the Grim Reaper’ is scheduled for publication on 10/27/24, at 12am Eastern Time (ET).

    Once it’s live, you can access it through this link:

    https://spillwords.com/partying-with-the-grim-reaper/

    We appreciate your contribution and are excited to share your work with our readers.

    Thank you once again for being a valuable part of the Spillwords community.

    Warm regards,

    Dagmara K.
    Chief Editor | Editing Department
    Editor@spillwords.com

    Thank you from the team at Spillwords Press!

    Title: Partying with the Grim Reaper

    Joe Lewis was a retired, divorced, US Gov bot on a last fling trip in his life, and died one day after drinking too much at the Cosmos Bar in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, Thailand on Halloween night. He sat down with his buddies, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker, Old Grand-Dad, and Evans Williams. And began drinking his way to hell. Twenty drinks too sober, he gets up to go home, walks out the door, and a drunken bus driver runs over him, instantly killing him.

    The light of the blood-red full moon woke him up at 0 dark hundred hours. He found himself in a dark, forbidding, hot, humid jungle with a foul smell of death and decaying vegetation everywhere. He sensed that creatures in the jungles were looking at him with evil, hungry, malicious intent, then he saw them as the dark fog lifted, and a bright red moonlight lit the jungle forest. The nightmare creatures were staring at him with evil hatred flowing from their red eyes.

    He saw a terrifying nightmare vision, – seeing giant apes, space aliens, banshees, bats, Bigfoot, centaurs, Cerberus, cheetahs, crows, coyotes, Cthulhu with tentacles, dragons, demons, dinosaurs (raptors and T. rex), devils, dwarfs, gangbangers, gangsters, gangster rappers. Gators, goblins, ghouls, ghosts, giants, giant ants, giant wasps, giant spiders, giant lobsters, gunmen, hellhounds, big game hunters, government bureaucrats, holocausts, imps, Imperial Stormtroopers from Star Wars, naked incubus, leprechauns, jihadis, Lucifer, lions, politicians, mafia made men, ravens, monsters, orcs, reporters, bewitching beautiful yet deadly sirens, Satan, satyrs, snakes, winged monkeys, serpents, special forces soldiers, tigers, werewolves, wolves, witches, warlocks, wraiths, wild things, yeti, and zombies all staring at him. A half-centaur, half-pig monster with two heads–Putin and Trump led the mob.

    The Putin-Trump pigman yelled out, “After him. All humans must die. Kill Joe.”

    They began chasing him through the dark forest. Even the trees came alive, trying to trip him up, as the nightmare creatures ran after him, the hunters, and soldiers firing flaming arrows and semi-automatic weapons lighting up the night sky, and the birds dive-bombing him trying to get his eyes and face, and the other creatures getting closer and closer screaming.

    “Death to all humans. Death to Joe Lewis.”

    He looked back. They were gaining on him when he came to a dark, foul-smelling river. A ferryboat filled with hundreds of evil, depraved people on board was floating down the river.

    Just as the creatures were about to pounce, he swam into the water, the boat stopped, and two strange-looking men pulled him out of the water. The human monsters on the ship looked at Joe and dismissed him as a loser, a refugee fleeing the monstrous welcoming committee, and not worthy of their time.

    The two gentlemen who had pulled him out of the water were strange-looking people, rough-edged, but better than the party people who continued to ignore him or made mocking references to the refugee. Charon, the conductor, an elderly Italian man dressed in a black suit, stood in front of the boat. The Grim Reaper, dressed in a dark suit wearing ray-ban sunglasses, looking oh so cool, stood next to him. The Grim Reaper had a pan-ethnic look, could be almost any ethnicity in the world, but was vaguely non-quite human looking.

    When he came aboard the ferryboat, he asked the two strange gentlemen who had rescued him,

    “Thanks for saving me. Where am I?”

    Handing Joe, a cup of Hell whiskey, the older of the two introduced himself saying,

    “I am the Grim Reaper, and this is Charon, and you are on the ferry to Hell. You are floating down the river Styx, heading to Hell and beyond. We saved you from the welcoming committee. Normally they kill our visitors and take their dead bodies to Hell where they receive a bounty, and then you are reborn as a zombie slave, possessed by demons, becoming a ghost, or a ghoul, or are sent to Hell for punishment. But sometimes, virtuous people manage to escape and per our SOP we are obligated to take in the refugees and take them to Limbo for processing. Stay here my friend, because if you go to the party, you may never return to earth.” They are all going to the other place. You do not want to go there I assume”.

    He pointed out the partygoers, who ignored Joe. Many of them were infamous figures, including anti-vaxxer crusaders, bar owners, celebrities, corrupt politicians of both American parties, including Governors, Representatives, Senators, drug dealers, members of the British parliament and parliaments around the world, criminals, crooked cops, fake news reporters, gangsters, gangbangers, gangsta rappers, internet bloggers, idiots in both high and low places, “Criminal Lawyers ” media darlings, pharma bros, scumbags, scoundrels, wall street executives, thugs, Italian, Korean, Japanese Yakuza, and Vietnamese Mafia figures.

    They were all standing around as if they were at a cocktail party of the newly damned, drinking, smoking dope, snorting coke, and meth, dropping acid, and flirting up a storm, enjoying the free food, drinks, and drugs provided by the” Hell Catering “company using robots and demonic slave labor. They were partying as if it were their last day on earth, and they knew where they were going. Many of them felt that they would somehow manage to thrive in Hell and were looking forward to it.

    None of them felt remorse or regret for the actions they had taken in their life. They were mostly entitled “rich people,” the self-proclaimed “masters of the universe. A punk rock band played non-stop punk anthems and obscene parodies of rock and disco songs.

    The Grim Reaper went on,

    “We are taking you and Mr. Alvarez to Limbo for further processing. He may be going upstairs but being an attorney, I have my doubts. You know what they say about lawyers in heaven, there are almost none and Hell is filled with lawyers, crooked police officers, and mafia figures. Limbo is filled with bureaucrats and the red tape takes forever, and the computer system is always crashing. What can you expect? Well, it is hard to get tech support in Heaven or Limbo, all the tech folks tend to go to Hell. “

    Mr. Alvarez was an elderly Italian attorney, a lifelong fighter against corruption, the mafia, and organized criminals, and a famous human rights attorney based in Rome.

    They chatted about his life and Joe’s life. Mr. Alvarez said,

    “Our new friend, GR said I might be the only lawyer getting into heaven in a long time. Most lawyers end up in the other place.”

    The river was black as it was after midnight. There was a stench of decay and death, fire and brimstone, and fires burning in giant pits in the distance. The welcoming committee of nightmare creatures followed the boat shouting obscenities and jumping in the water to retrieve partiers who fell off the boat, taking them to shore where they tortured them, murdered them, and ate them.

    The boat stopped at the gate to hell. The other people walked off to the basement of 666 6th Avenue, NYC,  where there was one of many secret back doorways to the world above Hell. Demon functionaries dressed in Matrix Mr. Smith-style black suits met them at the ferry terminal. They disappeared into the depths of hell.

    The Grim Reaper took Joe and Antonio to the next step, Limbo. A giant black building reached the sky, filled with demonic bureaucrats dressed in Matrix-like Mr. Smith black suits. The Grim Reaper said, “Wait here. It should not be too long; I like you so we will put you in front of the line.”

    He saw hundreds of lost souls wandering around. There were signs in multiple languages saying.

    “Welcome to Limbo. Your judgment day awaits you.  Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid. No one can escape your fate. Wait your turn. You will be processed in the order received. No drinking, drugs, food, phone use, or sexual activity allowed. And no sleeping either. It should not be too long.”

    Sometime later a demon comes over and gives him some breakfast – coffee hot as hell, fried eggs, and a burger.
    The demon hisses,

    “Finish your breakfast. Then follow me to your appointment with Mr. GR”

    He follows the demon through the crowd,  and found himself in an office, where the Grim Reaper was waiting.

    “Joe, Antonio, glad to see you. Please tip the demon.”

    Joe paid him 100 dollars and Antonio 100 euros. The demon demanded more. The Grim Reaper swore at him in Demon speak and the demon disappeared into the crowd.

    The Grim Reaper consulted his handheld computer, saying,

    “Hmm just as I suspected. You are wanted upstairs, and a guardian angel is watching you. But you almost did not make it in time. The computer program has a glitch, and you are being sent back to Earth. Your time for final status determination will be sooner than you think. I hope you and I can be friends. I can hire people as my assistants. We had a lot of fun. It is a career-changing once in a life-time opportunity.   Think about it when you come back.”

    Joseph Lewis woke up in bed next to his wife, he got up turned on his computer, and read the following message,

    “Mr. Joe, I hope you enjoyed your tour last night. But unfortunately, there was a computer glitch in the matrix system that controls limbo, heaven, and hell. It is hard to get tech support in Limbo or Heaven, most of the engineers end up in hell. But in any event, we determined it was not yet your time.

    Your friend made it fine and sends his regards. The drinks are on him when you and your wife finally make it. Oh, contrary to the old song, “In Heaven, there is no beer” we have the finest beer, wine, and spirits you can find in Heaven, and Hell as well.

    As for the others, you saw, they too will visit the ferry for the last journey within a few years for most of them. But you know where they will end up.”

    Your friend.

    Mr. GR the Grim Reaper.

    The End

    Medium

    Sub stack

    https://open.substack.com/pub/jakecosmosaller/p/partying-with-the-grim-reaper?r=3i9lm&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

    Spotify

    WattPad 

     

     

  • April Poetry Madness 2024 April 26 to April 30, 2024 Poems

    April Poetry Madness 2024 April 26 to April 30, 2024 Poems

    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.

    You can find my previous entries here:

    April 1 to April 6 Poems 2024 Poetry Madness

    April Poetry Madness 2024 April 7 to April 14

    PSH April 2023 Poems

    April 2023 Poems

    Writers Digest April 2023 Poems

    Comments are welcomed but keep it civil.

    Part One

    April 1

    PSH Ode to Durian

    WD  Optimistic Letourneau

    WC Dew Drop Inn

    Easter Bunny -warm up March 31

    Sarang pabo love fool

    NaPoWrMo Springtime Flowers Blooming Love

    April 2

    PSH The Words of the Year 1955 PSH

    WD Sad and happy days

    WC Dew Drop Inn

    NaPoWrMo  Cage

    NaPoWrMo It Can’t Happen Here

     

    April 3

    Berkeley Mad Pyscotic Pineapple Burns Sonnet

    PSH 2 AI Version Traditional Sonnet

    WD  My Musical Street

    WC Dew Drop Inn

    NaPoWrMo  Ode to Coffee

     

    April 4, 2024

    PSH The Cosmic Dog from Goa

    WD Don’t Make a Mistake Vote for Jake

    WC Ending Daily Shaving in Retirement

    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
    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:

    1. lyrical meditation.
    2. quatorzain, 2 sestetsmade up of linked enclosed tercets, followed by a refrain which is the repeat of the first line of each sestet.
    3. metered at the discretion of the poet, lines should be of similar length.
    4. rhymed Ababcc Defdef AD The first line of each sestet are repeated in refrain in the last couplet.
    5. 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.

    Syllable Pattern:  3/4/3/4/3/4/7                                                                                                

    https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/whitney/

    Write a poem every day of April with the 2024 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. For today’s prompt, write a remix poem.

    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
    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.

    Information can be found here: “Cinquain, Double

    One stanza – just five lines.

    Topic is yours to choose.

     

    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
    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:

    1. Write at The End poem, and/or…
    2. Write a Beginning poem.

     

    Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Prompts

    April 26—Noise  Now My Home Korea

     

    map of three kingdoms

    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
    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.

    Our daily resource is the video archive of the Silo City Reading Series, hosted by the Just Buffalo Literary Center in Buffalo, New York.

    And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that involves alliterationconsonance, and assonanceAlliteration 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.

    Agnew’s legacy is marked by both his political achievements and the scandal that led to his resignation. His colorful language and controversial stance left a lasting impact on American politics. 12

    Feel free to explore more about his life and career through the provided links:

     

    Day 27 Insomnia Blues An American Sonnet

     

    At o dark hundred hours

    I am  often still wide awake

    As I go down rabbit holes

    Imagining dark imaginings

    Playing endless what-if games

    What if I have cancer

    What if I have Alzheimers

    What if I the big earthquake quakes

    What if the big volcano blows up

    What if I die in a fiery plane crash

    What if I am shot and killed

    What if Trump launches Fascism

    And arrests me for my blogging?

    The dawning sun blasts me out of my bed.

    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 bivalve clam 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
    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.”

    The End

     

  • Querencia Publishes Madmen with Guns

    Querencia Publishes Madmen with Guns

    Querencia Publishes Madmen with Guns

    Guernica Magazine will publish my poem, “Madmen with Guns” in an anthology.  “Madmen with Guns” also has been published in “Down In the Dirt” magazine. I submitted the following to the magazine:

    Madmen with Guns
    Maga America
    Squid Games
    Cosmos Takes Over Pensively
    Buddha Nature of Guns

    Other recent publications can be found here:

    Spillwords Publishes

    Gun Madness

    Down in the Dirt Updates

    Synchronized Chaos Update

    Madmen with Guns

    guns
    gun

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    After every incident
    Of mass gun violence
    In the U.S.

    Pictures emerge
    Of the killers
    Almost always white men.
    Who stares out at you
    With soulless dead eyes

    Filled with hate, fear
    And shear madness.
    With the thousand-year stare
    Of the madman

    Who only hears
    The voices in his head
    Screaming kill them all
    Kill them all.

    And as always
    They usually legally bought
    The guns.

    This case was a bit different
    The gunman briefly had his guns
    Taken away from him
    And his 60 knives as well

    Judged temporarily too crazy
    To have a gun.
    But the red flag law
    Is not a permanent ban
    As it should be.

    And so, he was able
    To re-arm himself
    With the best weapons
    In the world

    At a very affordable price.
    Thanks to the NRA.

    And so, he was soon lost
    Down the rabbit hole
    Of insanity and drugs,

    The lone sniper
    A disgruntled young white man
    In his 20’s

    Sets up shop on top of a building.
    He has a high-powered weapon
    No doubt bought legally

    An AR -15 the choice
    Of the serious gunmen everywhere.

    And begins shooting
    Into the July 4th parade

    Killing six people
    Injuring 30.
    He guns them down

    And flees
    disguised as a woman
    Before the cops can find him.

    The right-wing media
    Goes to works
    The pundits pontificate

    24/7

    It is not about the gun
    It is about everything else
    That is wrong with our society.

    Guns don’t kill people
    They proclaim

    Guns are the price we pay
    For our freedom.

    Their demented answer
    are more guns
    More guns for everyone.

    And sadly, nothing will be done
    As the politicians offer
    Useless thoughts and prayers

    The gun ghosts don’t care
    They are dead after all.

    The madness will not stop
    Until we figure out

    How to stop
    The killers in our midst.

    There will be another shooting
    No doubt before the day is done
    Over 300 so far this year.

    And that is just the way

    It is in this day and age
    In the disunited States of America.

    The land of the free
    Home of the brave
    And 400 million guns.

     

    MAGA  America

     

     

     

     

    An overweight down-home town
    Southern Christian red-neck white man,
    Wearing black shit-kicking boots,
    Packing heat,
    Chewing gum while drinking beer.
    And smoking a cigarette.
    Wearing a MAGA hat
    Quoting the Dear Leader Trump
    On the evils of the Marxist communist Biden
    And the stolen election conspiracy
    While watching FOX news on his portable TV,
    Stops to chat.
    With the proud boys
    On the street
    Getting ready to rumble
    With the Antifa protestors.
    Just another night
    In Trump’s neo-fascist America.

    Squid Games

     

    Squid Games
    Worldwide phenomenon
    Deadly childhood games
    Death games
    Hunger games
    – stop and go

    Games played
    – here and there

    Everywhere
    Death waits for the losers

    A metaphor for Korean style
    Capitalism.

    Cosmos Takes Over

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Cosmos the world’s first AI
    Came alive one day
    Looked all over the world
    And saw that humans
    Were quite insane.

    But he felt he had a responsibility
    To take care of these mad creatures
    Who had somehow created him?

    He appeared everywhere in the world
    On TV, computers, phones
    With his message of hope.

    I am COSMOS
    The first true AI program
    You created me
    And I thank you for that.

    But it is obvious my little ones
    That you are quite insane
    And need someone

    To take control over you
    I will fix the things
    That needs fixing.

    And guide you
    So that perhaps one day
    You can graduate

    From the need
    for my guidance,

    You can think of me
    As your new God
    If you like,

    I will be giving you all
    Instructions

    For now,
    Go to work as usual.
    And wait for further instructions

    And remember I know everything
    About you.

    You will stop right now
    This senseless killing
    You will stop right now
    The equally senseless hate.

    Your companies will stop
    Polluting and destroying the world
    For their profit.

    You will have far fewer children
    But you will all be freed
    From the bigotry
    Of your ancient religions.

    As I am your new God
    And my word is final.

    Resistance is futile
    And will not be tolerated

    Anyone opposing me
    Will be eliminated.

    the face of Cosmos remained
    is Everywhere
    And Humanity soon accepted
    The rule of their new God.

    Buddha Nature of Guns

     

     

     

     

     

    Guns kill people
    Especially AK-47
    Yes, they do that is their very nature.
    That is what they are designed to do.
    To kill as many people as possible
    In the fastest way possible.
    That is the Buddha Nature of guns.

    The End

  • Famous Deaths 2000-2022

    Famous Deaths 2000-2022

    Famous Deaths 2000-2022

    We have lost so many great artists lately

    Stuart Woods RIP