Recent Writing Com Creative Writing

40-Words

April 2023 Dew Drop In Poems

I have been a writing com member since 2016.  I have been actively posting in various challenges and contests since I began and have posted close to 998 pieces. I highly recommend this site as a warm, welcoming writing community and I have learned so much about the art and craft of writing from participating.  You can find my work at https://jcosmos.Writing.Com/

Index

Weekly Challenge

#27. When Sam First Saw Maria

ID #1062875

#26. election cinquain
ID #1062282

#25. spider web
ID #1061843

#24. 24 Star Crossed Lovers
ID #1061842

#22. week 10 my faith journey
ID #1061840

#21. too many gunmen joy bell
ID #1060903

Writer’s Cramp

End of Empires

Quiet January Night With Cosmic Cat

Lunch with Allen Ginsberg item 231151 Winner

Dogs of War

Hitler as an Artist winner

Express It in Eight

#19. Strange Places
ID #1063026

#18. Gateway In Central Asia
ID #1063024

#17. The perfect cup of tea
ID #1063023

#16. The Future Of The World At Stake
ID #1063022

#15. Warning Signs
ID #1062873

Poet’s Place

#62. why do we write?
ID #1062876

#61. Guns Eleven Poem
ID #1062627

#60. morning routines Tanaga
ID #1062284

#59. names
ID #1062273

#58. More Guns Rondeau
ID #1062048

#57. The Whole World Out of Control Ronka
ID #1062047

40 Words

. 01/31/2023-‘re-enter’
ID #1062534

#6. 01/30/2023- ‘rescue”
ID #1062533

#5. 01/29/2023- ‘old”
ID #1062532

#4. Unusual sway
ID #1062531

#3. Decency or fascism is your choice
ID #1062530

Stormy Lady

. Everything in Life is Foolish or Immoral For Stormy Lady
ID #1059452

#9. Barbados Dreaming on a Winter’s Day for Stormy Lady
ID #1055645

#8. o dark Hundred
ID #1051150

#7. Last night of High school memories
ID #1049689

#6. A Mother’s Luminous Tears
ID #1048420

Writers Cramp Entries

Writer’s Cramp does a prompt every day with a daily winner. I have won quite a few of these and try to enter them daily.

End of Empires

38

On February 2, 1901,
Queen Victoria was laid to rest.
Largest gathering
Of European royalty ever assembled
Attended the funeral.

This was the height
Of the British Empire.

Few would have thought
In a few short years
World War 1 would begin.

And then World War Two
The Cold War
Followed by the gradual
End of the British Empire.

The sun did set
In the British Empire

But in 1901
It seemed like
The British Empire
Would last forever.

Empires rise and fall
Sometimes one sees the decline.
Other times it comes as a surprise.
In hindsight almost inevitable.

What will be the end?
Of the American Empire?
Will America break apart?
Into ten or 15 new nations?

If there is a civil war
It will not end up
As proponents think.

That is the nature
Of civil war
And war in general.

it never ends as planned.

“ War, Good God all, what is it good for?
War has only one friend, the undertaker.”

NEW (birthday week) PROMPT:
On February 2 (2/2) 1901, the state funeral of Queen Victoria of Great Britain took place and was one of the largest gatherings of European royalty in history. Write a poem or story about this event. Use HISTORY as one of your genres.

A Quiet January Night

26 lines

Sam Adams
Was at home
On a quiet January Night.

Snowbound
In his Capitol Hill Row house,
Down the street from Lincoln Park
In the heart of DC.

All in all
Sam felt at peace
With the world.

Having accepted
As he was getting older,
And having reconciled
With his long-estranged siblings.

He was playing the piano
While his cat
The Buddha Cat
Was lost in his cat verse
Deep in meditation.

Soon he put on some
Buddha bar meditation music
And joined the cosmic cat
In mediation.

There is a new prompt up in “The Writer’s Cramp” – and if you write the best story or poem (and follow all of the rules) you just might win 10,000 GPs.

” WINNER & NEW PROMPT Due Sunday, January 21″ 16 hours 40 minutes 35 seconds
Please use the following as the Title of your story or poem:

“A Quiet January Night”

Please select “Spiritual” as one of your genres.

Make sure you create a new static item for your entry, and include your word count for stories (1000 words or less) or a line count for poems (40 lines or less) IN your forum post with the b-item link to your entry to be a qualified entry.

Lunch with Allen Ginsberg (winner)

39

If I had a chance to go back in time
and meet for lunch a famous poet
I would go back to 1954.

to my hometown, Berkeley, California
to visit with and have lunch
with one of my literary heroes
Allan Ginsberg.

I would knock on his door
and tell him I came from
from 2024, the future.

And wanted to talk to him
about the future world
and we would go and have lunch
in North Beach.

And over wine and pasta, we would talk
We would talk about his life and legacy
and then talk about the future world.

I would tell him that Donald Trump
would become President
and usher in an era of neo-fascism.

H would be astonished.
but finally concluded
that he knew of the Trump family
and could see that coming.
They had bad juju he concluded.

And then he would go home
and write a series of poems
about the future of the U.S.

And perhaps we would have prevented
some of the future from taking place
perhaps it was inevitable
as he would write,

“the future is coming sooner than we think
and it will be stranger than fiction.”

Unfortunately, I can’t award a winner today. Please remember to select the appropriate genre if the prompt requires one. (Today’s prompt does not.)

NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, January 6, is National Take a Poet to Lunch Day. Write a story or poem involving lunch with a poet. The poet can be living, formerly living, imaginary, or even yourself. What’s on the menu, and what topics are discussed?

The WINNER Is:

Dogs of War Unleashed

35

Sam Adams
watched from far-off Mumbai
as the terrorists launched 9-11.

Thanking the Gods
that his wife was not working
there at the Pentagon.

He had a vision
that the Dogs of War
Have been set free
Of their cages in hell,
And are out
howling at the moon.

The Dogs of War
Have been set free
To wreck what havoc
Might be.

Yes, the Dogs of War
The Hell Hounds
Have bound out of their cages
Sniffed about, smiled

At the destruction, they saw
They knew soon
They would be in their element
As the world descends into chaos,

The world saw the face of pure evil
That fine September morning

A morning like any other morning
Until a fateful moment
When two planes came out of the sky,

And Destroyed the center of world capitalism
In an act of horrific violence, and pure evil
That is beyond the comprehension
Of mere mortal man.

Dec 7, 1941, was the attack by Japanese warplanes on Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, an event that propelled the United States into the forefront of World War II.

For tomorrow, write a story or poem that is set during an unexpected military attack. (But broadly construed … could be like Pearl Harbor, could be a science-fiction space war, could be a gang war in NYC, could be an unexpected snowball attack by the neighborhood bullies, could be in fairyland, etc.)

Focus your tale on the experiences of an “ordinary person” in this attack, rather than someone removed from the action (e.g. not military leaders in command-and-control centers.) Try to bring to life the confusion and emotions of the situation.

Hitler as an Artist?

20

A Hitler historian
was fascinated
With Hitler’s failed attempt
To be a painter,

Hitler always blamed
His failure as an artist
Due to a cabal of Jewish painters
Who were the arbiters of taste
In Vienna right after World War 1

One day he discovered
A cache of lost Hitler paintings.
Among the paintings,
was one labeled
“International Bird Painting Day”.

Art historians all agreed –
It was the worst bird painting
Ever made,

Proving that Hitler
Would never have made it
As an artist,
Since he had no talent

As an artist,
Sadly, his depraved, evil
malignant evil talents
Lay elsewhere.

NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, April 8, is Draw a Picture of a Bird Day. Write a story or poem about someone with limited artistic talent attempting to observe this occasion.
20

Express it Eight

Soling Bling is the host of the Express It In Eight Daily prompts. The goal is to write an eight-line poem. Here are my most recent entries.

Jellyfish Lake and Other Strange Places

Sam Adams was an explorer
He had been to many strange places
Among the Weider were the Jellyfish Lake
Filled with jellyfish
Snake Island off of Brazil
Filled with the deadliest snakes in the world
And the famous cannibal island
where outsiders are forbidden in the Andaman seas.

INTERESTING PLACE: JELLYFISH LAKE

https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/jellyfish-lake

#19. Strange Places
ID #1063026

Gateway In Central Asia

In an ancient town in Central Asia,
Deep in the high mountains on the old Silk Road,
There lays a weird church, mosque, and temple.
With four doors, one to the church, the mosque, and the temple.
The fourth door, hidden in the back rooms leads to an indoor patio.
The fourth door reveals ten smaller green doors on top of each other.
According to the sign above, each door opens a portal
To other worlds, a one-way ticket for madmen only.

Doors [#2308179]
green doors

#18. Gateway In Central Asia
ID #1063024

Perfect Cup of Tea

Lately, I have been drinking
Much more tea and less coffee,
Particularly in the afternoon.
My latest tea of choice is my wife’s secret blend.
Bitter melon, jujube dates, ugly potato, wormwood
With Earl Gray, green tea slims fast,
Yogi detox teas are added to the brewing pot.
Perfection in a soothing hot cup of heaven.

SELF-CARE IDEAS

BUY YOURSELF SOME FLOWERS

DRINK A CUP OF HOT TEA

#17. The perfect cup of tea
ID #1063023

The Future Of The World At Stake

In the U.S. in November
There is a noteworthy
Looming election.
An election that will determine
In a comprehensive manner,
The future of the U.S. and the world
Will the U.S. choose fascism?
Or will democracy and sanity prevail?

LOOMING

NOTEWORTHY

COMPREHENSIVE

#16. The Future Of The World At Stake
ID #1063022

Warning Signs

the warning signs
are everywhere
will we heed them?
will we wake up
and see that Trump
and the MAGA movement
are fascists determined
to destroy American democracy.

POEM TITLES

Warning
by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.

>< >< >< >< >< ><

I Choose the Mountain
by Howard Simon

The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer

The massive mountain makes its move
Beckoning me to ascend
A much more difficult path
To get up the slippery bend

I cannot choose both
I have a choice to make
I must be wise
This will determine my fate

I choose, I choose the mountain
With all its stress and strain
Because only by climbing
Can I rise above the plain

I choose the mountain
And I will never stop climbing
I choose the mountain
And I shall forever be ascending

I choose the mountain

#15. Warning Signs
ID #1062873

Poet’s Place

 David Sneider is the host of Poetry Place.  He does a weekly poetry form challenge similar to what Writer Digest does.  I try to try my hand at both and between the two of them and Fan Story, I have tried over 150 poetry forms since 2016.

Here are my most recent attempts

Why do we write?

40 lines

A writer is often asked
Why do you write?
What motivates you?
What keeps you going?

How do you handle the constant rejections?
The self-doubts
What comes with the writer’s life?

I write as many writers do
Because I must
Because the damn muse
Will never leave me alone

The characters in my head
Demand to let their voices be heard
Demand to be freed
To tell their tales

And I am a slave
To my muse
Who takes me
Where she will

No matter what
I must write every day

Usually starting my day
Drinking coffee
Watching the news unfold

Writing my thoughts
Letting the poetry flow
Out of my soul

Bleeding onto the computer screen
The words waiting to be spoken
To tell their tale
Before the day is over

That is why I write
Because I can not write
That is the Buddha nature
Of being a writer after all.

Most of us probably started writing to fulfill the requirements of our teachers in school. We wrote to pass the course and gain recognition through grade assignments.

During some self-analysis upon leaving the Navy and starting my job search, I realized that the things I enjoyed the most and had the most success with involved writing of some sort. Therefore, a technical writing job seemed to be the perfect union of that interest with my engineering education. For the next few years, I wrote to instruct field technicians on how to implement retrofit modifications on aircraft.

Later, in the business world, I wrote to enlighten co-workers, managers, and customers about procedures, policies, and systems.

Nowadays, while I sometimes still write for those reasons (as I’m doing here), many more factors keep me engaged in this wondrous process. That’s probably the case with you, too.

If you feel a need to express your most personal response to this mysterious, beautiful, and sometimes painful world in the shapes, colors, sounds, and smells of your imagination, creative writing can provide a powerful means of therapeutic release.

The pure joy that comes with meeting the challenges of crafting the language into something meaningful, like molding a piece of clay with your hands, can be a refreshing recreational outlet.

Many writers are driven to publish their work on the printed page. I can vouch for the exhilarating sense of satisfaction that comes with that first acceptance letter.

Upon receiving a reviewer’s comment that one of my stories reminded him of a stand-up comedian’s routine, I realized that the desire to entertain/is also a driving force that keeps me motivated.

For whom do you write?

Many writers resist criticism and defend their writing with the claim that they write only for themselves. While some therapeutic or recreational writing may not be intended for sharing with an audience, writing is usually employed as a means of communicating with other people. Of course, the grocery lists and phone numbers you scribble on scraps of paper are probably intended for only you. However, those things within you that won’t rest until they are given voice–the burning memories that linger in your heart and the fanciful fugitive images floating around in your head–must be shared with someone else to satisfy the need for expression.

When you sit down to write, you should keep your audience in mind. Whether it be your friends and family, a group of readers interested in a particular genre as identified here at WDC, or an editor for a specific publication, the language you use serves as a bridge between you and the reader. Choose accordingly.

Your reasons for writing along with your prospective audience will influence the voice you use in your writing, as the relationship between the writer and the reader develops into a true collaboration in this wondrous experience.

Today’s Practice Session: Write about your objective(s) as you continue on this marvelous journey.

Then ponder the postings of your peers and exchange views about the various motivations that keep us all inspired in this venture.

 #62. why do we write?
ID #1062876

Guns Eleven Poem

Guns
so many
people are dying
Politicians offer useless prayers
Death

The Elevenie, also called Elfie in German, is an exercise in language distillation. Consisting of five lines with word counts of 1, 2, 3, 4, and 1, respectively, it captures a thought in only eleven words, as described and demonstrated in the following links:

https://rolandsragbag.wordpress.com/2020/10/09/elfchen/

Wikipedia defines an Elevenie, or Elfchen, as follows:
“An elevenie (German Elfchen — Elf “eleven” and -Chen as a diminutive suffix to indicate diminutive size and endearment) is a short poem with a given pattern. It contains eleven words which are arranged in a specified order over five rows. Each row has a requirement that can vary.”

A simple form, similar perhaps to Haiku, Senryu, or Tanka, in which the poet attempts to carry an idea within a set format of words and lines which imposes certain strictures of thought and form on the author.

The usual format requires a short verse of eleven words in five lines in the form – 1, 2, 3, 4, 1. An order which I have reversed in my last of the 4 Elfchen below . . .

#61. Guns Eleven Poem
ID #1062627

Hot Coffee Tanaga

Hot coffee starts my morning.
watching the news mid-morning.
Too much coffee is a warning,
a migraine a forewarning.

Afternoon I drink hot tea.
Contemplating to be.
What is to become of me?
Turning on music filled with glee.

As the sun sets, I drink red wine.
With my wife, all is just fine.
While looking at the moonshine,
As we sit down start to dine.

The Tanaga is an ancient Filipino form that has evolved from a complete poem to a series of stanzas. The structure consists of four mono-rhymed lines with seven syllables per line, as described and demonstrated in the following links:

https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/2191-philippines-ambahanawit-tanaga/#tana…

#60. morning routines Tanaga
ID #1062284

My Name

 I was born John Cosmos Aller
But for most of my life
I called myself Jake Cosmos Aller
Nowadays, I call myself J Cosmos Aller
or Cosmos As my pen name

the name Cosmos has nothing
to do with me being born
in Oakland
growing up in Berkeley

no one buys that story though
Cosmos being such a Berkeley-like name

My great-grandfather wanted
an English translation
of the family’s last name
Aller
looked it up in a German English dictionary

had two choices
Cosmos
or Universe
chose Cosmos
and thus I am the last
of the Cosmos Aller’s

The universe would have been
an equally good Berkeley name

But I have had other nicknames
The kids nicknamed me Allergy
And pretended to sneeze
When I passed them by

The name  Jake came about
From a dream I had
As a boy scout

I was riding a horse
Named Jake

I would scream
Whoa Jake
Slide aside Clyde
Turn around Verdiack

I started saying these words
When I walked about Campus
And people thought I was a bit mental

So, people simply started calling me
The Whoa Jake kid,
Later simply became Jake

After I left school
I liked the name, Jake
Better than John
Too many Johns
In the world, I thought

When my wife became an army officer
We would sometimes get invites
To things addressed to Captain Lee and Mr. Lee
Got tired of trying to explain
We had different last names
So, I became Jake Lee

Later when I was in the military hospital system
As a dependent getting operations
The doctors just assumed I was a major
And called me Major Aller

I did not correct them
Liked having been promoted
To the rank of Major!

When I started trying to become
Professional writing and blogger
I thought using my middle name
Would be a nice pen name

So now I am either J Cosmos Aller
Jake Cosmos Aller
John (Jake) Cosmos Aller
or just Cosmos

No longer Jake Lee
Or Major Aller though.

unless you are Maya Angelou, Stephen King, or some other famous writer whose name alone is enough to draw an audience, the title is one of the most critical elements of a poem. As the only thing a prospective reader will see while scanning the list of items in a writer’s port or the Table of Contents in a book, it serves as the door that must be opened to enter the realm of the poet’s imagination. If that entrance does not generate some kind of interest, that browser will likely move along to the next item, or maybe even the next author.

Like the names of your children, a title gives the poem a specific identity. Of course, some poets eschew such traditions and leave their work without any identifying reference. Emily Dickinson did not put titles on her poems, even though her editors often did before publication. Frank O’Hara often applied simple, nondescript titles, such as Poem. Would you let your child go through life without a name? Then, why would you ever think of not naming your brainchild or tagging it with some irrelevant label?

Because many poems are so short in comparison with other forms of literature, their names should capture the underlying essence of the expression as it sets the tone and prepares the reader for what is to come. Mark Twain once said, “The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug,” and I believe the same advice would apply to titles for a poem. This can be a struggle in many cases. Sometimes the title comes to the poet out of the blue as inspiration for an entire composition, and sometimes it hides within the shrubbery of the text.

Here are a few suggestions to aid you in your search for the perfect name:

1. Start with the title and let it propel you into the poem.

2. Use the first line of the poem as your title.

3. Provide a brief description of the poem’s theme.

4. Find a phrase or image within the poem that can represent the whole.

5. If you are writing a narrative poem, an action verb may help engage the prospective reader with the experience being described.

6. Use your imagination to pluck lightning from the phantasmal cloud of cosmic pixie dust swirling around in your head.

Your assignment: Write a poem about the concept of NAMES.

 #59. names
ID #1062273 entered on January 11, 2024, at 7:16 pm   [Edit]   [5 views]

More Guns Roundeau

More guns killing people today.
Is it just another day?
Politicians offer prayer.
All the dead gun ghosts don’t care.
Have we completely lost our way?

To the gun ghosts, what do we say?
Our prayers are just another cliche.
Will the guns continue to flare?
More guns.

Will we continue to pay?
Will our country be able to stay?
Will hatred continue to stare?
Will there be an end to this nightmare?
Do we have any words left to sway?
More guns.

: aabba aabR aabbaR. Lines 9 and 15 are short

The Rondeau is a French form of fifteen lines with an intriguing pattern of rhyme and repetition, as described and demonstrated in the following links:

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

#58. More Guns Rondeau

I wake up with the morning dawning sun.
Turn on my TV watch the news,
drinking a hot snarling cup of coffee.
thinking dark gloomy thoughts as the snow falls.
Bombs, war, inflation, end-of-the-world.

The Ronka is another spinoff from the Japanese Haiku and Tanka forms devised by Ken Ronkowitz. The structure consists of five unrhymed lines with seven words per line. The theme should “focus on observations of the day as seen in the outside world and the inside worlds of dwellings and the mind,” as described and demonstrated in the following links:

https://writingtheday.wordpress.com/2015/02/02/trying-the-ronka-form/

ID #1062048 entered on January 8, 2024, at 1:46 am   [Edit]   [5 views]

#57. The Whole World Out of Control Ronka
ID #1062047 entered on January 8, 2024, at 1:41 am   [Edit]   [4 views]

40 words

Rupali Goswami is the host of the 40-word challenge – to write a 40-word poem or micro story based on the daily prompts.  Here are my latest attempts.

01/29/2023- ‘old”

Watching the news
I feel the old-age blues
I turn off the barking, deranged,
talking heads,
had enough of them all
for a lifetime
turned off that snarling noise box.
And have another cup of coffee.
With my lovely wife.

#5. 01/29/2023- ‘old”
ID #1062532 entered on January 17, 2024, at 4:22 am   [Edit]   [2 views]

01/28/2023-‘unusual’

Donald Trump
Is the biggest con artist
carnival barker, grifter,
Flimflam man
That ever lived.
He has an unusual
Sway over his cult-like
MAGA Followers
Who thinks he is God’s Anointed
Some call him the orange Jesus
The Messiah!

#4. Unusual sway
ID #1062531 entered on January 17, 2024, at 4:17 am   [Edit]   [12 views]

© Copyright 2024 JCosmos (UN: jcosmos at Writing.Com). All rights res

#3. Decency or fascism is your choice
ID #1062530

Darius Smith, V Poems about the assassination of a Wall Street conman

see the Assassination of Darius Caesar Smith, V for the complete set.

01/31/2023-‘re-enter’

When
Sam Adams
Bought the 3-d print Glock
He tested security several times.
Smuggling the gun in
And re-entering the building.
Where he administered justice
To his lying scumbag frat bro
Darius Smith, iv.

#7. 01/31/2023-‘re-enter’
ID #1062534

01/30/2023- ‘rescue”

When Darius Smith, IV
Sam’s College frat bro
stole 100 million dollars
2 million from him
he prayed that someone
would rescue his soul
as he blew him, Darius, away
as he ate dinner. with Sam’s
estranged wife.

#6. 01/30/2023- ‘rescue”
ID #1062533

Stormy Lady Contest

Stormy Lady is the host of a monthly contest where she does the poetry newsletter duties.  Here are my most recent entries, some of which won.

Everything in Life is Foolish or Immoral For Stormy Lady

Oscar Wilde once said

“Everything in life I love
Is either foolish, immoral
Or fattening”

But for me
I am filled with crazy desires
Walking down the river at sunset

Watching the moon rise
Over the canal in Gimpo
Casting its reddish glow
Over the romantic waters

Stopping to smell the fall flowers
Softly inhaling their sweet fragrance
That fills the air with the scent of love
Bad craziness takes me over

Filled with love I pick the chrysanthemums,
the daisies, marigolds, poppies, purple flowers
and the red and purple cosmos flowers

Putting them into a bouquet
Of autumn wildflowers
To give to my wife

Who is always walking by the side?
As the moon shines on
Filling us with a deep love

We stop and enter a wine shop
Having a glass of wine
Looking down the hallway
As the canal flows on by

We stop and laugh
And howl at the lunatic light
Of the full moon

Foolish
immoral
desire
daisies
hallway
softly
fragrance
air

 #10. Everything in Life is Foolish or Immoral For Stormy Lady

ID #1059452

#9. Barbados Dreaming on a Winter’s Day for Stormy Lady

ID #1055645

O Dark Hundred

0 dark hundred
Just before dawn
Insomnia comes over me

My mind filled with
Haunting whispers
Degrading the air

troubled rumors
of distant places
of ancient times

traveling afar
extinguishing

the rage
I feel against the coming
Dark Night of the Soul

Note: o dark hundred is a military/intel word denoting the early morning hours just before dawn when soldiers often wake up to go to battle

#8. o dark Hundred
ID #1051150

Last Night of High School Memories             One of the most memorable nights In my life Was my high school graduation night In Berkeley in 1974. We had all gone out To numerous graduation parties Partying all night Until dawn. Then heading to Berkeley’s Tilden Park Inspiration point Where we ran into Numerous friends, This was a BHS tradition Dating back to whenever We all ended up there On the morning After graduation night. We all shared a moment Enjoying the rare sunlit morning Usually foggy but that morning The sun lit up the distant horizon With dramatic hues. As the sun rose over the mountain tops. Of the Berkeley Hills and Mt. Diablo We all stared at the sunrise Looking at the beauty all around us Contemplating the tranquil mood We were in. Then we left Ending up at IHOP Enjoying the lumberjack breakfast Bacon, eggs, pancakes, sausage Lots of hot coffee to wash it down Heavenly first breakfast As an official adult Member of society Getting home at about noon. Knowing that one stage In our life was over Waiting for the next stage To begin. Knowing that we may Never see our friends again As our paths would soon diverge. But I will never forget That magical night When I officially Became an adult.

© Copyright 2023 JCosmos (UN: jcosmos at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

#7. Last night of High school memories
ID #1049689

#6. A Mother’s Luminous Tears

An old Mother
Embraces her daughter
And son-in-law

Luminous tears
Flowing down her face

As she looked
At her children
Filled with love

A devoted humble
Guiding loving spirit
Smiling at her

These are the rules:

1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.

2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.

3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum, “Stormy’s poetry newsletter & contest” [ASR] by May 13, 2023.

4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (May 17, 2023)

The words are:
A mother embraces luminous tears devoted spirit humble guiding

#6. A Mother’s Luminous Tears

ID #1048420

The End