This writing was accepted
for publication in the
108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book “Sprung from Grief”
Down in the Dirt, v184
(the June 2021 Issue)Order the paperback book:
When I was young and foolish
Broke and stubborn
I hitchhiked across the USA
Started in Salt Lake City
Where my greyhound bus pass
Was stolen
The station manager
Could have helped me
But refused to do so
Threaten to call the cops
When I grabbed my bags Without the stolen tags
I said
Go ahead
But I am so out of here
Wondered about Salt Lake City
Went to a bar
Found I had to buy my booze
Next door
And they would mix it for me
Had to order food too
After a bloody Mary
And a burger
I walked about town
Saw the Mormon Temple
Finally about 3 pm
It was time to hit the road
Did not look back
Ended up in Cody Wyoming
Got a room shower
Steak beer
Using my rapidly depleted cash Spent 25 dollars
Money really went far
Back in those days
A band of professional
Communist agitators
Gave me a ride
To Des Moines
Lots of weed, booze
And politics later
Got off the road
Slept outside
Next day
A beautiful woman
Drove me to near Chicago
In a red mustang
Might have been
The girl in the song
Took it easy
Digging her vibe
She invited home
But was not sure
If her estranged husband
Would welcome me
So, I am being foolish
And inexperienced with women
Did not go to her place
And always regretted
That I had lost
My chance that day
Then on to Chicago
Several rides later
Visited friends
Hit the road again
A series of uneventful rides
With truckers
And others
And a week later
I ended in New York City
Slept along the way
In cars
In truck stops
In high way rest stops
Always moving
Always going
Non stop talking
And lots of free weed
And beer
And conversation
One more memorable ride
Occurred outside Albany
On my return to Chicago
A middle age creepy looking man
Picked me up
In a brand-new Cadillac
He was he said a dynamite deliverer
For the Mafia
Went to various places
To blow up shit
He hated a lot of people
Particularly hippies from California
And Jewish people
Looking at me to confirm
That I was both
I told him that I lived in New York
And had never been to California
And although I might have looked Jewish
As I what was called back in the day
A “Jewfro”
I was not Jewish
Many years later I discovered
That I am indeed part Jewish
But then I did not know
And I felt a bit of strategic information
Might keep me alive
Then I realized that he was just jiving with me
And we relaxed
And he pulled out some weed
And beer
And we mellowed out
But I believe that he really was with the mob
Perhaps not a dynamite dealer
A real made Italian made mafia member
By Chicago
I had enough
I called my Dad
Told him what had happened
Wanted a ticket home
And he sent me a ticket
And 500 dollars
And I went home
I told him I would tell him
My tales some day
But never did
I learned so much
About my fellow Americans
And the strange vibe
That was 1975
And now it is too late
But I wanted to finally
Tell the world
In India, several years ago
A man falsely claimed his brother
Was dead so he could inherit the family assets,
The dead brother had to fight
To be declared legally not dead
And contest the will.
“The Association of the Living Dead”
Became a movement
Of thousands of people.
For in India apparently,
It was a thing to declare
Your relative is dead.
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people’s business
Working for the Government
I’ve become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It’s civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
“Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night”
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my “Bukowskian”desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
This writing was accepted
for publication in the
108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book “Prayers and Bullets”
Down in the Dirt, v181
(the March 2021 Issue)Order the paperback book:
If you’ve been around
If you’ve been around
As much as I have
Decades of memories
Fill up your brain’s hard drive
Remembering the dead
Misremembering the living
Seeing the past fly past
Everywhere you go
Thinking about things
You did and did not do
As your life begins to fade
Sinking into lost worlds past
Seeing the ghosts
Of all you knew
Whispering Soon you will
Be joining us
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 probably 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 gun men everywhere.
And begins shooting
Into the July 4th parade
Killing six people
Injuring 30.
Before putting the gun down
And fleeing
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
is 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
Of America.
The land of the free
Home of the brave
And 400 million guns.
Note: I wrote this a year or so ago. This morning there was another mass shooting, this time at Brown University. Yesterday at Bondi Beach in Australia. The Australian Government promises to enact even stricter gun laws in response, in the US nothing but talk about prayers and thoughts for the victims, nothing can be done the politicians say. THe price of freedom is the occasional mass shooting according to the NRA.
My name, it is Nobody
No one cares who I am
I am just a nameless clone
In the cold unfeeling bureaucracy
Just one of the army
Of civilians who flood into and out of the city
Every day
A non-entity,
A ghost
A govbot
A cyber
A spook
A faceless automan
A bureaucrat
Just a grey suited cog in the machinery
And no one cares
No one knows who I really am
And I am legend
Everywhere and nowhere
Just the way this modern world
All shred of humanity
Crushed beneath
the cruel wheel of society
In the cold harsh world
There is no room anymore
For true human feelings
We are just robots,
clones, machines
And so I go to work
Put on my mask
And no one hears
my inner screams
And no one will ever care
My name, it is Nobody
No one cares who I am
I am just a nameless clone
In the cold unfeeling bureaucracy
Just one of the army
Of civilians who flood into and out of the city
Every day
A non-entity,
A ghost
A govbot
A cyber
A spook
A faceless automan
A bureaucrat
Just a grey suited cog in the machinery
And no one cares
No one knows who I really am
And I am legend
Everywhere and nowhere
Just the way this modern world
All shred of humanity
Crushed beneath the cruel wheel of society
In the cold harsh world
There is no room anymore
For true human feelings
We are just robots, clones, machines
And so I go to work
Put on my mask
And no one hears my inner screams
And no one will ever care
Order this writing that appears
in the one-of-a-kind anthology The Flickering Light
the Down in the Dirt Jan.-June 2019
issues & chapbooks collection book
(learn about this book, and order from Amazon online)
get the 366 page
Jan.-June 2019 Down in the Dirt
issue & chapbooks 6″ x 9″ ISBN# paperback book:
I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee
I mean, – we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by ex-Vietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee
As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals
I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair
Lying through their teeth about the great success the government is having Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements
I want to scream and shoot the TV and run out side Shouting
“Stop the world.
I want to get off this fucking crazy planet”
The earth does not care a whit about my attitude
It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run
And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe
get the 396 page poetry,
flash fiction, prose,
& artwork & photography
collection anthology
as a 6″ x 9″ ISBN#
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Stairway To Heaven Bumper Sticker
Found Poem in Medford, Oregon
The fact
There is a stairway
To heaven
But a highway
To hell.
Tells you about
The expected traffic
Strangeness in the Air
There is a strangeness in the air
A sense of cosmic unease
Hangs silently in the purple crystalline sky
America woke up
And decided it was time
To quit following like lemmings
Over the Clift
As the pied piper chants
Stay the course, stay the course
We were like lemmings following him
Dying to save his wounded pride
Today there is that strange difference
In the air
As Americans woke up
And threw off their chains of fear
This writing was accepted for publication
in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book “The Gravity
Of Imagination”
Down in the Dirt, v203 (1/23)
The fly on the wallpaper
In the CIA director’s office
Was not a real fly
He was an enemy spy drone
Secretly controlled remotely
Listening to all the secret conversations
Until the director smashed him
With a flyswatter
Then realized that it was a spy fly
He had dispatched to bug hell.
On the night of the blood red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar
Drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
Washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer
drinking with my buddies the Jack Daniels Gang
Drinking my way to Hell and beyond
Just as fast as I could
twenty damn drinks too sober
Just an unhinged lunatic
Dreaming of howling at the full moon
Watching the world walk by
Looking at all the fine-looking babes
Walking by the street
Thinking wild, erotic thoughts
Of endless wild libertine passions
When into the bar
That din of cosmic depravity
Walked the most beautiful women
In the Universe
So wild, so free
So wonderfully alive
I did not know what to do
As this vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar
In a skin-tight leather pant
Looked so fine
That my eyeballs hurt
And finally, I had to say something
So, I gathered up my manly courage
And walked up to her
And she looked at me
And instantly bewitched my soul
With a devilish grin
I lost all reason
And became a raving lunatic
Unhinged lunatic
Howling at the blood red full moon
Foaming at the mouth
A wild, free werewolf
Howling at the lunatic light
Of the blood red blue full Moon
Hi there from Scars Publications (this letter is being sent from a bulk email address, so DO NOT REPLY to this Gmail address but to any scars.tv email address)… We wanted to let you know that Scars Publications released a 2025 annual collection book of select poetry, flash fiction, prose, & art from 2025 issues of cc’d magazine and Down in the Dirt magazine. Since your material was chosen from the past year of accepted materials for inclusion in this annual collection book anthology, we wanted to share this brand-new annual collection book, “Signs and Revelations”!
Links to see all the chosen writers and artists (and the titles of their work) in “Signs and Revelations”: https://scars.tv/2025collection/Signs_and_Revelations.htm
This is where you can also find out what material of yours appears in this annual collection book.
You can find this book online at scars.tv in multiple locations. Right now, it is linked on the main page at https://scars.tv, and it appears near the top of the list of choices on the books link (the book link is one click away from the main page, or also directly at https://scars.tv/books/) as well as at the “CD Books Sale” link with new releases at the top of the listing (direct link https://scars.tv/sale/) at Scars!
Also, by the end of the business week, or by Friday night CST, your writing in the writings section online will have a link to this collection book, so people can find links to this collection book on your writing pages in the writings section of http://scars.tv (at https://scars.tv/cgi-bin/framesmain.pl?writers)...
Links for ordering this collection book appear on all of the links above, and will also appear in the writings section, so any of your writing in this collection book will also see a link to this collection book in the writings section!
These books are available from Amazon in the U.S. & Canada, the U.K., Europe, Australia, and Japan. (The link above is for U.S. sales.)
The Scars Publication book link for what material of yours appears in this collection book, and if you’d like, order a copy today (I hear they make great Christmas gifts)… Again, thank you for being a part of the Scars Publications community!
Sidewalk poems are written in chalk on streets—sometimes during poetic celebrations or community events, other times more unstructured and graffiti-like. I’ve written a few myself, though not directly on the pavement!
In this post, I’ll share a real set of sidewalk poems found on the street near my summer home in Medford, Oregon, followed by a few of my own sidewalk-style poems from years past.
First, you’ll find a poetic intro, then the Medford sidewalk poem (somewhere between classic sidewalk poetry and graffiti, as it wasn’t officially sanctioned). After that, I’ve included photos of the sidewalk poems, my chalk-inspired pieces, and background information provided by Copilot on related poetic forms—found poems, concrete poems, sidewalk poems, blackout poems, and erasure poems—with links for further reading. I wrap up with a few final thoughts.
Enjoy!
Sidewalk Love Poems- Love on the Street
The other day
I came upon
The following sidewalk poem
On a street in Medford, Oregon.
My wife said
They had a fight.
I asked,
Do I need
To do sidewalk
Love poetry.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
For you?
She said,
No need.
It is obvious
On your face
That you love me.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Medford Sidewalk Love Poem (August 2025)
😍 Always
😍 True love
I love You
Twin Love
♥️♥️♥️♥️
Twin 😍 love
Come home
Twin Love
♥️♥️♥️♥️
Don’t give
up on us
Don’t Give Up On US
meant to be
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Meant to be
ment to be
For the Best You ever Had
For the Best You Had
I 👩❤️♥️♥️♥️👩 You
I miss you.
I love You
I love You
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
♥️♥️♥️
Come home
I miss you
Come Home
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Come Home
Bobo
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Jen 4 ever
sidewalk love poem1
My Sidewalk Love Poems
I was lost
And you found me.
You walked out.
of my dreams
And into my life—
And that made
All the difference
In the world.
My love is waiting,
Waiting for me
To return
From this trip.
She is the
most beautiful
Woman
in the world.
Have you seen her—
My Angela Lee?
Tell her I love her.
Tell her.
I will be home.
I am coming.
back to her.
Co-Pilot Backgrounder
📚 Found Poetry
Found poetry is created by rearranging existing texts—from books, articles, speeches, or even street signs—into poetic form. It’s like a literary college.
The poet doesn’t write original words but selects and reshapes existing ones.
Found poetry includes several sub-categories: blackout poetry, cut-up poetry, and erasure poetry.
🕶️ Blackout Poetry
Blackout poetry is made by blacking out words from a printed page (like a newspaper or book) to reveal a new poem.
Uses a black marker to obscure unwanted words.
The remaining visible words form the poem.
Often emphasizes visual design and minimalism.
Example:
Tyler Knott Gregson:
“In my solitude I became aware of lack.
Lie near me in the starlight, quiet and free.”
Sidewalk poetry is poetry displayed in public spaces, often on sidewalks, driveways, or parks. It’s designed to delight and surprise pedestrians.
Created with chalk or etched into concrete.
Often part of city art programs or community projects.
Combines literature and visual art, sometimes with illustrations or creative lettering.
Example:
From Saint Paul’s sidewalk poetry contest:
“Though I worry that everything I held true and firm as rock
Will crumble under my feet—
I can’t forget: no paper, pen, or marble engraved
Can change the fact of my heart…”
Sidewalk Poetry: Reflection, inspiration, public art
Tone:
Graffiti: Bold, rebellious, expressive
Sidewalk Poetry: Gentle, poetic, contemplative
Audience:
Graffiti: Urban passersby, subcultures
Sidewalk Poetry: General public, pedestrians
Final Thoughts
Note: The Medford sidewalk poems were chalk-marked on the street—not spray-painted—and likely not sanctioned by the city. So, they linger somewhere between sidewalk poetry and graffiti—a little rogue, a little romantic.
Whoever left them, I hope the message landed. And best of luck to the couple behind it. As an incurable romantic, I fully endorse this kind of public love. The world could use more of it. After all, love makes us bold—it makes us scribble mad sidewalk poems in the middle of the night.
Have you stumbled across a chalked confession or a poetic whisper on the pavement? Or maybe you’ve penned one yourself? Share your sightings, your verses, your stories. Let’s turn sidewalks into storyboards—one love poem at a time.
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 though 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 prompt.
Those syllables are divided into five iambic feet. (An iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable). The word “admit” is a good example. In pronouncing it, you put more stress on the “mit” than the “ad.”
Rhyme schemes vary, but the Shakespearean sonnet is abab cdcd efef gg (three quatrains followed by a concluding couplet).
April 26 Prompt Sonnet not in traditional iambic meter
We finally made it to the weekend, everyone!
Today’s featured participant is Eden Ligon, whose “live concert” poem for Day Twenty-Five shows all the sweetness of music that has ripened with time.
Our daily resource is the online collection of Spain’s Reina Sofia Museum, which houses an incredible collection of modern and contemporary art. You can find Picassos aplenty here, of course, but also things like this vertiginous sculpture that makes me think of a rollercoaster, this mysterious Magritte, and this collaboration between Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat.
And now for our daily (optional) prompt. The word “sonnet” comes directly from the Italian Soneto, or “little song.” A traditional sonnet has a strict meter and rhyme scheme. It’s a strange form to have wormed its way into English, which is relatively unmetrical and rhyme-poor compared to Romance languages like Italian.
But thanks to William Shakespeare, Edmund Spenser, and others, the sonnet in English bloomed. It also became a sort of rite of passage for poets, with the Victorians especially loving very strict sonnets.
To refresh you on the “rules” of the traditional sonnet:
14 lines
10 syllables per line
Those syllables are divided into five iambic feet. (An iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable). The word “admit” is a good example. In pronouncing it, you put more stress on the “mit” than the “ad.”
Rhyme schemes vary, but the Shakespearean sonnet is abab cdcd efef gg (three quatrains followed by a concluding couplet).
Sonnets are often thought of as not just little songs, but little essays, with the first six-to-eight or so lines building up a problem, the next four-to-six discussing it, and the last two-to-four concluding.
Given all these rules, it’s perhaps surprising that love poems make up quite a chunk of sonnets in English, but maybe that’s just because love poems make up quite a chunk of all poems in English?
If you want to intimidate yourself about poetry in general and sonnets in particular, read this quote from Saintsbury’s History of English Prosody.
To have something to say; to say it under pretty strict limits of form and very strict ones of space; to say it forcibly; to say it beautifully; these are the four great requirements of the poet in general; but they are never set so clearly, so imperatively, so urgently before any variety of poet as before the sonneteer.
And now, by way of illustration, let’s take a look at a few contemporary takes on the sonnet. The first, by Dan Beachy-Quick, is a pretty strict traditional sonnet. The next two –by Terrence Hayes and Alice Notley – are looser. And finally, the last one, by June Jordan, is a rather strict sonnet (rhyme- and meter-wise, though somewhat looser in line-specific syllable count) that doesn’t sound strict at all. It is joyfully informal in its language and tone.
After all this, here’s your prompt! Try your hand at a sonnet – or at least something “sonnet-shaped.” Think about the concept of the sonnet as a song and let the format of a song inform your attempt. Be as strict or not strict as you want.
2025 April PAD Challenge: Day 26
Nigerian scam Hermit Crab found poem
Attention,
This is to inform you
that we have been working
towards the
eradication of fraudsters and scam Artists
in Africa with the help of
the Organization of African Unity (OAU)
United Nations (UN), European
Union (EU) and FBI.
We have been able to track down some scam artist
in various parts of African countries
which includes (Nigeria, Republic of Benin, Burkina
Faso Ghana and Senegal with cote d’ivoire )
and they are all in Government custody now,
they will appear at International Criminal
Court (ICC) soon for Justice.
During the course of investigation,
they were able to recover some
funds from these scam artists
and IMF organization have ordered the
funds recovered to be shared among
the 10 Lucky people listed around
the World as a compensation.
This notice has been directed to you
because your email address was
found in one of the scam Artists file
and computer hard-disk
while the
investigation,
maybe you have been scammed.
You are therefore being
compensated with sum of ($300,000.00)
Three hundred thousand US dollars
valid into an (ATM Card Number 4061730956305619).
Since your email address
is among the lucky beneficiaries
who will receive compensation funds,
we have arranged
your payment to be paid
to you through ATM VISA CARD
and deliver to your postal address
with the Pin code as to enable you
withdrawal maximum of $5,000 on each
withdrawal from any Bank ATM Machine of your choice,
until all the
funds are exhausted.
The ATM Card with Security Pin number
shall be delivered to you via
courier Service,
depending your choice.
In order to proceed with this transaction,
you will be required to
contact the agent in-charge
(Mr.Francesco Savgae)
Kindly look below to
find appropriate contact information:
YOUR FULL NAME:
YOUR AGE:
ADDRESS:
YOUR COUNTRY:
CITY:
DIRECT CONTACT PHONE NUMBER:
OCCUPATION:
We advise you to stop
all communications with everyone
regarding your
payment as we have short listed
to deliver to you
and now urge you to
comply and receive
your ATM Card funds.
Thanks for your understanding
as you follow instructions while I wait
to hear from you today.
Yours in Services
Mrs.Paulina Federik.
Comment: the latest scam
a claim that the scam artists
are fighting against the spam artists –
all you have to do to receive the 300,000
is to give them your information.
Sounds too good to be true
which of course it is
For today’s prompt, write a hermit crab poem. A hermit crab poem is like a hermit crab essay, which is an essay that takes on the form of another type of literature. So a hermit crab poem might be a poem that looks like a to-do list, footnotes, obituary, spam messages, or a message on a postcard.
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Randy Fowler:
Dissonance: Write a poem about disharmony in your or humankind’s values, views, or relationships: stating belief in one value but doing another, saying you love someone but you really don’t, our nation’s original declarations vs. its current reality. For symbolism, think of all the areas dissonance applies – music, city noise, abrupt sounds (alarm clock, fire alarm), anything that produces a vibration in your mind that something is off key.
April 26—Travel
Noisy Korea Now My Home
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 a noisy
Chaotic exotic place
Just home.
Bonus Poem Visit to Korea
I first went to Korea
In the Peace Corps
After a long plane ride
My first international flight
I ended up in South Korea,
At the old Gimpo airport
A chaotic crazy drive
Through Seoul.
To the town of Chuncheon
Where we did our training course
For four months.
First visit to another land
First foreign travel
To a strange land.
Exotic people
Strange sounds and sights
And the smells of incense
And the food ah the food
korean feast jpg
But over time
Became my second home
45 years later
I returned to Korea
Ending up living
Next door to Gimpo airport
Where my journey began
45 years ago
“In Buddhism, the concept of hell, often referred to as Naraka, represents a realm of intense suffering and retribution. Unlike the eternal damnation found in some other religions, Buddhist hells are temporary states where beings experience the consequences of their negative karma. Once the karma is exhausted, they are reborn into other realms. There are various types of hells, including fiery and icy ones, each corresponding to specific sins or actions.
In East Asia, Buddhist temples often depict these hells in vivid and graphic paintings. These artworks serve as moral lessons, illustrating the consequences of unethical behavior. For example, the Dazu Rock Carvings in China and murals in Japanese temples like those depicting Jiokui (Japanese hell) showcase scenes of torment and judgment. These paintings are not only religious but also artistic expressions, blending cultural and spiritual narratives.
If you’d like to explore more, you can find detailed descriptions and examples here and here.
Note on form
The cascade poem was a form invented by Udit Bhatia (who also apparently created the Alliterisen, which I’ll try to deal with in a future post). For the cascade poem, a poet takes each line from the first stanza of a poem and makes those the final lines of each stanza afterward. Beyond that, there are no additional rules for rhyming, meter, etc.
Happy Sunday, everyone. I hope you find it to be a relaxing and inspiring day for writing poems.
Our featured participant for the day is Hayashi whose first attempt at a sonnet brings a lovely blend of grief and self-deprecating humor.
Today’s daily resource is the online collection of the Harvard Art Museums, where you can find this bright and pretty drawing of a tulip poplar, a rather forbidding poster comparing various causes of death in Wisconsin, this beautiful jade paperweight, and much more.
And now for today’s optional prompt. W.H. Auden’s “Musee” takes its inspiration from a very particular painting: Breughel’s “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.” Today we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem that describes a detail in a painting, and that begins, like Auden’s poem, with a grand, declarative statement.
I based my poem on these images and remembered images from all the Buddhist temples I have visited over the years.
“In Buddhism, the concept of hell, often referred to as Naraka, represents a realm of intense suffering and retribution. Unlike the eternal damnation found in some other religions, Buddhist hells are temporary states where beings experience the consequences of their negative karma. Once the karma is exhausted, they are reborn into other realms. There are various types of hells, including fiery and icy ones, each corresponding to specific sins or actions.
In East Asia, Buddhist temples often depict these hells in vivid and graphic paintings. These artworks serve as moral lessons, illustrating the consequences of unethical behavior. For example, the Dazu Rock Carvings in China and murals in Japanese temples like those depicting Jiokui (Japanese hell) showcase scenes of torment and judgment. These paintings are not only religious but also artistic expressions, blending cultural and spiritual narratives.
If you’d like to explore more, you can find detailed descriptions and examples here and here.
Note on form
The cascade poem was a form invented by Udit Bhatia (who also apparently created the Alliterisen, which I’ll try to deal with in a future post). For the cascade poem, a poet takes each line from the first stanza of a poem and makes those the final lines of each stanza afterward. Beyond that, there are no additional rules for rhyming, meter, etc.
2025 April PAD Challenge: Day 27
Join poets from around the country and the world to write a poem each day of April. For today’s prompt, write a New Blank poem.
New World Order Emerging
The American MAGA revolution
and the rise of the alt-right
across the world
raises serious questions
Where are we going
What are we doing?
They say that history
Does not repeat
But it rhymes.
So we have echoes
Of the 1890’s
The 1920s
1930s
1950s
And even ancient Rome
And the fall
Of the Roman Republic.
Ending globalization
And the old international order
Restoring great power games.
As the US struggles
To avoid
The collapse
Of the American experiment
And the American empire.
All in the name
Of creating
a new world order.
and a grand reputation
Of the 60’s and 70’s
And the 20th century
And the 21st century
progresive vision.
Going back
to the 19th century.
Gilded Age
and Robber Barons.
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “New (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “New Moon,” “New Car,” “New Significant Other,” “New World,” and/or “New to This City.”
And yes, it is totally fine to replace the word “new” with the word “knew” if that helps you get your poem out today!
“Deep Fried Blood Alien chicken-pork cutlets for dinner”
Sam Adams is the owner
And the chef of the UFO restaurant
Bar and grill in Berkeley.
He was a famous UFO nut
And opened the UFO theme restaurant
Complete with alien memorabilia
Movie and TV posters.
And what became famous
A sign over the bar
“Space Aliens drink for free”
Every night some joker
I tried to claim the free drink/
Sam always said
You have to prove you
Are a space alien.
One day mysterious
Man in a black suit
Who had a pan-ethnic look.
Could pass for almost any nationality
But had a vague almost unhuman look
And a strange alien accent.
Walked in and spoke
He wanted the free drink
Sam said,
“Prove you are a space alien.”
The man
Morphed into Donald Trump
Then Elon Musk
Then into his true form
A red skin two legged reptilian form
Before morphing back into
Man in black look
Sam laughed
And asked him,
“Well, okay then..
Drinks are on the house.
What do you want ?”
“ one bourbon, one scotch
And one beer. And a favor.
“What’s the favor?”
“Use of the kitchen
to cook my favorite food from home
I’ll teach you recipe and leave
Enough for you to have a supply
On hand.”
“okay”
The alien went out and brought out
Ten alien creatures –
Who looked like a cross
Between a chicken and a pig
He called them “biblog”.
They would cook one
And the rest he could keep
They bred very rapidly
So he would have a ready supply
On hand.
They went to work and Sam and Mr. X
served the customers
all night.
some posted to the media
and Mr. X was interviewed
the meal was a great success
it tasted like chicken and pork
purple and orange colors
with yellow coloring
with a strange after taste,
and a fragrant smell
and a somewhat tough texture
but it was delicious,
with an out of this world
hard to pin down
umami flavor!
the City, State and Federal authorities
came the next day
confiscated the biblog creatures,
and demanded the whereabouts
of Mr X.
Sam smiled and spoke,
‘‘Mr. X said
you all would be coming
And left for home.
But he is coming back next year
To open trade negotiations
with the Sirius star system
and I am his agent.’
They arrested him
And finally released him
And the biblog.
and told him
to keep in touch.
Sam posted everything online
And Mr X came back
With a trade delegation
Later that year.
The biblog escaped
And became an invasive species
But hunting was allowed.
crisis averted.
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Patty Bennett:
Imagine you are a gourmet chef at a fancy restaurant. Invent a new dish, and using the five senses, describe it.* Then serve it to a group of repeat customers, and record their reactions.
*What does it look like? What does it smell like? Can you hear it while it’s cooking? Can you touch it, or describe what it feels like if it’s finger food? And of course, how does it taste? Served hot or cold or room temperature?
April 27—Duty
Congress Symmetrel
Republicans in Congress,
Playing nonstop political games.
Each party calling the other names,
The democrats denying it was their fault.
Both sides digging in, not stopping or to halt.
Sadly, this seems to be our current gestalt.
The insane republicans making wild claims.
Sadly, just seems to be our current gestalt.
Throwing more gasoline on the fires lighting the darkness.
Republicans in Congress.
Symmetrel
Stanza 1 7 subject repeated at end
Stanza 2 9 b
3 9 b
Stanza 3 4 11 c
5 11 c
6 11 c
7 11 c
Stanza 4 8 9 b
9 9 b
Stanza 5 10 7 repeat of line one
Note: a bit political but hey I call it as I see it
Welcome back, all. As of today, there’s just three days left in this year’s Na/GloPoWriMo.
Today, our featured participant is Mariyah, who brings us a poignant take on Modigliani portrait in response to Day 27’s painting-based prompt.
Today’s daily resource is El Museo del Barrio, a New York City museum focused on the experience of Puerto Ricans and Latin Americans in the United States. The museum’s website provides highlights from its permanent collection, as well videos exploring the art and artists featured.
Last but not least, here is today’s prompt (optional, as always). Music features heavily in human rituals and celebrations. We play music at parties; we play it in parades, and at weddings. In her poem, OBIT [Music], Victoria Chang describes the role that music played in her mother’s funeral. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that involves music at a ceremony or event of some kind.
Happy, or at the very least, meaningful, writing!
Funeral Music for the Death of America
Sometimes when I watch the news
And see the continued assault
On American institutions
Rule of law and basic human decency
All done in the name of promotion
Traditional Christian values
Hiding their true authoritarian impulses
Challenging everyone who opposes them
With being soft on crime, immigration
And terrorism
Shredding the constitution
In the name of preserving
Democracy
Meanwhile, gutting the social safety net
Threatening to fire judges
Lawyers and government officials
Illegally impounding funds
Already approved
Daring anyone to stand up
Against their takeover
Of American society
I wonder what music
Would it be appropriate
For the funeral
Of American democracy?
Perhaps Elgar’s Nimrod?
Or Barber’s Adagio for Strings
Or Mahler’s Adagietto Symphony 8
Or Edward Grieg Solveig’s Song (from Peer Gynt):
Or Chopin’s Funeral Sonata
Perhaps protesters should start
Their protests with funeral music
As they march against
The end of American democracy?
Co-Pilot’s list of funeral music
Barber – Adagio for Strings: Known for its profound sadness, this piece has been played at the funerals of figures like Albert Einstein and Princess Grace of Monaco.
Elgar – Nimrod (from the Enigma Variations): A deeply moving piece often associated with remembrance and reflection.
Mahler – Adagietto (Symphony No. 5): This calming and poignant movement is a favorite for its emotional depth
Edvard Grieg.
Certainly! Classical music often plays a significant role in state funerals, offering solemnity and reflection. Here are some widely recognized pieces frequently used in such ceremonies:
Barber – Adagio for Strings: Known for its profound sadness, this piece has been played at the funerals of figures like Albert Einstein and Princess Grace of Monaco.
Elgar – Nimrod (from the Enigma Variations): A deeply moving piece often associated with remembrance and reflection.
Mahler – Adagietto (Symphony No. 5): This calming and poignant movement is a favorite for its emotional depth.
Bach – Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring: A timeless piece often chosen for its serene and uplifting qualities.
Chopin – Funeral March (Piano Sonata No. 2, Movement 3): This iconic march has become synonymous with mourning.
Vaughan Williams – The Lark Ascending: A beautiful violin piece evoking a sense of peace and transcendence.
Arvo Pärt – Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten: A minimalist yet profoundly emotional piece written in memory of a fellow composer.
Edvard Grieg
Solveig’s Song (from Peer Gynt): A hauntingly beautiful piece that evokes longing and farewell.
Arietta (Lyric Pieces, Op. 12): While not explicitly funeral music, its gentle and introspective tone makes it suitable for solemn occasions.
Russian Composers
Tchaikovsky – Hymn of the Cherubim: A deeply spiritual and serene choral work.
Rachmaninoff – Vocalize (Op. 34, No. 14): A wordless melody that conveys profound emotion and reflection.
Mussorgsky – Promenade (from Pictures at an Exhibition): Though not traditionally funeral music, its introspective nature can be fittin
2025 April PAD Challenge: Day 28
For Day 28 of the 2025 April Poem-A-Day Challenge, poets (and other colorful people) are prompted to write a color poem.
Color of Justice is Gold and Green
The color of justice
It is gold and green my poor friends.
Those with enough gold
Buy all the justice they need.
No gold or green, no justice.
Wow! Today marks 4 weeks of poeming for this April. Let’s get to it.
For today’s prompt, write a color poem. The poem could be about a color, mention a color, or be somewhat “colorful.” Of course, the title of the poem could be a color (or include a color) and then not mention colors in the poem at all. So there’s a lot of wiggle room with this prompt.
The waka is a Japanese 5-line poem (or stanza) that is often considered synonymous with the tanka, because both have a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable per line structure. However, the waka groups its lines together in a particular way. The first 2 lines should make up one piece, the next 2 lines should make the next, and then, the final line can stand on its own–or as part of the second group.
It’s possible to end stop after line 2, 4, and 5. But other forms of punctuation can do the trick as well.
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Superhighway Facebook Group.
April 28, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Alex Phuong
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee
I mean, – we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by ex-Vietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee
As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals.
I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair
Lying through their teeth about the great success
the government is having
Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements.
I want to scream and shoot the TV
and run out side Shouting
“Stop the world.
I want to get off this fucking crazy planet”
The earth does not care a whit about my attitude
It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run
And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Alex Phuong:
The publication of poetry could potentially result in an enduring legacy. Please write a poem so beautiful that it could possibly leave an indelible mark on the literary landscape.
April 28—Back to work
My Life as a Diplomat
For 27 years
I served as a foreign Service officer
A U.S. Diplomat
Representing the U.S.
Around the world
And in Washington, DC
I served in ten countries
Antigua
Barbados
Grenada
India
South Korea
Spain
St. Kitts
St Lucia
St. Vincent
Thailand
I did everything
From issuing visas
Blogging about program evaluations
Serving as a program evaluator
Helping American businesses
Helping Americans who got into trouble
Organizing conferences
Coordinating classes
Investigating visa and passport fraud
Serving as a labor officer
Serving as a commercial officer
Serving as a human rights officer
Serving as an economics officer
Serving as an environmental officer
Visiting prisoners
And through it all
I was always proud
To serve my country
And make the world
A better place
Winning friends
And influencing people
Colour illustration, Music/ Composers, Frederic Chopin, Polish composer, (1810-1848) (Photo by Bob Thomas/Popperfoto via Getty Images/Getty Images)
Way back when
In the 19th Century
Way before we had
Rock stars
We had mad musicians
Piano players mostly
Who stormed across
Europe and America
To enthusiastic crowds
And rumors of sexual escapades
And rich women groupies
To use a modern term
Among them the most famous
Was Franz Liszt
And Frederick Chopin
And many other romantic
Music greats
Of that by gone era
Happy Tuesday, all, and happy penultimate day of Na/GloPoWriMo.
Our featured participant today is Adil Akbar, whose response to Day 28’s “music and ceremonies” prompt rather reminds us of César Vallejo.
Today’s daily resource is the online galleries of the Whitney Museum, where you’ll find artwork as varied as this fun portrait of Billie Jean King, a Frank Stella sculpture that looks like what would happen if a space station fell in love with a bridge, and this contemporary take on the classic embroidered sampler.
And now for today’s prompt – optional as always. Just as poets make poetry, musicians make music. There is always a living being behind the words, the rhythm, and at the heart of every song. Just as music and poetry can fascinate in their own right, so do the personalities behind every form of art. In her poem, “Canary,” Rita Dove riffs on Billie Holiday, and how her life has been spun into myth. Likewise, in “Ode for Donny Hathaway,” Wanda Coleman muses on another tragic figure, in the form of the eponymous soul singer and keyboardist.
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that takes its inspiration from the life of a musician, poet, or other artist. And while our example poems are squarely elegiac, don’t feel limited to minor-key feelings in your own work.
2025 April PAD Challenge: Day 29
On Day 29 of the 2025 April Poem-A-Day Challenge, writers are challenged with the fifth (and final) Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month.
The beginning of the End of MAGA Dreams
The American public is growing weary.
They are growing leary.
The MAGA madness is growing dreary.
The public no longer buying what they are selling.
The authoriarians are on the retreat.
No one follows what they tweet.
People joining rallies voting with their feet,
No more bowing down and knelling.
ochtfochlach (pronounced: “UKHT-uh-KHLAHCH”) is irish for “eight line stanza”
“ocht” – meaning 8
“fochlach” – meaning line/stanza
so…
an 8-line stanza
with a rhyme scheme of: aaab cccb.
Before we get into today’s prompt(s), I just wanted to give another quick update on the 2024 November PAD Chapbook Challenge results. I’m almost there and blocking out time today to finish it up; so I’m hoping to make the announcement this afternoon/evening and link to the results in tomorrow’s final prompt for April. I’m so sorry for the delay; it wasn’t intentional. On to the poetry!
It’s time for the fifth (and final) Two-for-Tuesday prompt:
Write a “near the end” poem and/or…
Write a “near the beginning” poem.
Are we near the end of writing poems or near the beginning of revising them? I don’t know.
MAGA stands for Make America Great Again and is the name of the movement that President Trump launched prior to his first term and his second term in office.
A revolution is coming
And it will wipe out
The collapsing edifices
Of the American Empire
The masses are rising up
To throw off their chains
And demand justice
The masses are coming
For the masters of the universe
Their day is numbered
And they know it too
One day
The masses will rise up
Storm the citadels of power
Arresting the corrupt leaders
In the name of revolutionary justice
As the revolutionary fires
Consume the nation
And I can’t wait
For the revolution
Is long overdue
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Maria DePaul:
In times of upheaval, poetry can inspire resilience and resistance. If an issue touches the heart or inspires an action, share that on the page so that others may find ways to express themselves. Poets of the world unite — all we have to lose are the chains that block free and full expression! Now is the time!
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Superhighway Facebook Group.
Wow, we made it, everyone! Today’s the final day of National/Global Poetry Writing Month. We hope you make it to the end of the day with thirty new poems under your belt. But even if you didn’t manage to keep up with the whole poem-a-day thing, we hope you had fun!
We’ll be back tomorrow with our final featured participant and some closing thoughts for the year’s challenge, but in the meantime, our featured participant for today is Catching Lines, who brings us an elegy for Janis Joplin in response to Day 29’s inspired-by-the-music-makers prompt.
Finally, here’s the last prompt of this year’s Na/GloPoWriMo (optional, as always)! In his meandering poem, “Grateful Dead Tapes,” poet Ed Skoog riffs on the eponymous tapes that he’s found in a secondhand store, remembering various instances of hearing the band, both live and in recording. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that also describes different times in which you’ve heard the same band or piece of music across your lifetime.
2025 April PAD Challenge: Day 30
For Day 30 of the 2025 April Poem-A-Day Challenge, poets (and other party people) are prompted to write a remix poem.
Ghosts Commit Immigration Fraud Prose Poem Version
One day, Bob Jones encountered one of the most memorable fraud cases during his time in India as a U.S. immigration officer. People often pretended to be single instead of married, or married instead of single, to jump the immigration queue. Sometimes officers would reluctantly issue fraudulent visas because proving fraud was nearly impossible and very difficult to do. In general, visas were only refused for fraud when it was blatant, right in front of them, and when the applicant continued to lie even when presented with evidence of their dishonesty.
One day, Miss Patel approached Bob, asking him to reconsider holding up the visas for her four siblings, who were married but pretending to be single. She claimed her father, a U.S. citizen, was in the hospital, and his dying wish was for his children to join him in the U.S. The only problem was that Bob had already checked and found that her father had passed away two weeks earlier. When he died, the petition for the visas died with him. Miss Patel had lied to Bob, pleading for him to grant the visas.
Bob called her up to the window and asked her
,
“So, Miss Patel, when was the last time you spoke to your father?”
She replied,
“Oh, I spoke to him just now. He is still alive and waiting for his children to arrive to see him before he dies.”
“He is alive right now?”
“Yes, he is still alive, and he’s waiting for the immigrant visas to be processed.”
Bob said, “OK, well, there’s just one problem. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“What?”
“Well, you see, here’s the problem. There’s only one way you could have spoken to your father today—and that is if you spoke to a ghost. According to the hospital, he died two weeks ago.”
Bob then showed her the fax from the hospital confirming Mr. Patel’s demise.
Miss Patel started crying. Bob then said,
“Well, I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do at this point. The law is the law, and I have an obligation to enforce it. Under the law, the penalty for visa fraud is a 99-year ban on entry to the U.S. However, planes fly both ways—you can go visit them every year if you want, but they’re not coming into the United States. You can file for them again, and in eight years, seek a visa waiver for ineligibility. It is sometimes granted.”
Based on a true story from 2003, the immigration system has been broken for decades and remains so to this day.
In my opinion, there is substantial fraud within the immigration system. However, I disagree with massive deportation actions. Instead, I believe we should implement a grand reset by offering amnesty to illegal immigrants working in the U.S. illegally. Green cards could be granted to those meeting three criteria: they either have a job or can secure one, they speak minimal English, and they agree to pay back income taxes on a payment plan spread over several years. Those who fail a background check, do not have a job lined up, or cannot speak English would be given a quick hearing and deported.
This proposal would go hand in hand with a massive overhaul of the immigration system. I would eliminate the sibling category entirely, as well as Diversity Visas (DV). However, I would allow anyone currently in line one year to register with the government and one year to process their visas. Priority would be given to educated immigrants, and a pathway to green cards would be offered to all foreign students. Additionally, I would enforce an English-speaking requirement for all immigrants.
I would also mandate E-Verify systems, ensuring that employers hire only legal immigrants.
This plan would clean up the immigration queue, restore order to the system, and better match the needs of the economy. While immigrants are necessary, it is essential to ensure the process is carried out legally.
April 30, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Brendan Constantine
Take a few minutes to look around your immediate surroundings and note down 6 different sights. They can be anything. For instance, when I look around my desk I see the following:
An antique lamp
A painting of a cowboy
A glass of lemonade
Hotel Insomnia (book title)
An origami bird
Rabbit shaped candy
Once you have your list – choose one with the most pleasing sound. From my list, I think I’ll go with the last one: Rabbit Shaped Candy
Now set this aside and think about this:
A few years back, an american couple was denied a birth certificate for their infant daughter when they attempted to name her Zuleykha Graceful Allah. A civil lawsuit was subsequently filed in Georgia Superior Court on their behalf. In the supporting argument, the following list of names was offered. They are all names which parents around the world have attempted to bestow on their children.
Tiny Hooker
Stud Duck
Cash Guy
Giant Pelvis
Ghoul Nipple
Sex Fruit
Yeah Detroit
Candy Stohr
Fish and Chips
Fat Meat
Acne Fountain
Legend Belch
Freak Skull
Satan
Dracula
Zombie
Loser
Lust
Sloth
Violence
Cholera
Messiah
Latrina
Crimson Tide Redd
Louisiana Purchase
Number 16 Bus Shelter
Tula Does the Hula in Hawaii
A recent article in Harper’s notes a recent trend in baby names reflective of the global pandemic. Since the outbreak of Covid -19 worldwide, the following new names have appeared:
Corona
Corona Kumar
Corona Kumari
Covid
Covid Marie
Covid Rose
Coviduvidapdap
Lockdown
Sanitizer
Covid Bryant
You can probably see where this is going. Your task is to compose a new poem in which you explore what it would be like to be named for the thing you chose from your list. Your poem can be in any style or person: 1st, 2nd, 3rd.
In my case, I would have to write about Rabbit Shaped Candy.
What’s your name?
Take your time with this one.
April 30—Ars poetica
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 probably are 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.
Bonus Poems Writing Com Weekly Challenge
Prompt Week 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
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 espresso
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
PPC5 Logo 2024 -2025 Prompt/Week # 37
Old phone has a story to tell
Back in the day
Sam Adams
Was serving
In the consulate in Mumbai.
In the old Palace
That the US took over
To make it into the consulate
Way back went.
The telephone people
Were there to finally
Modernizing the consulate’s
Aging phone system.
Before moving
to a new modern building
A few years later.
One of the telephone workers
Found an old phone dating back
To the 1920s perhaps.
It was the police hot line
That connected the consulate
To the local police authorities/
No numbers or dials
Just picked up
And the police would
Be on the other end.
Sam took the antique phone
Home with him.
Imagining the stories
The phone could tell
If the phone could remember
To tell the stories
It had heard.
The phone sadly
Sat there
Dead phones
Tell no tales
After all.
Pick any object in your room.
Now write a poem describing this object.
Jake, this is an impressively varied and emotionally honest collection.
Your Zappa tribute feels personal and grounded, giving us a glimpse of how his rebellious spirit resonated with you-a nice mixture of admiration and speculative sadness.
The insomnia piece captures the spiraling “what if” panic of sleepless nights with a raw, repetitive urgency that feels very true to experience.
The Sphinx poem leans into a mythic voice nicely, though stretching the imagery a little further could have strengthened it even more.
The caregiving piece is the most affecting-plain, unvarnished, and brutally human. You capture the conflicting emotions-duty, guilt, sadness, even relief-with a refreshing lack of sentimentality.
Small polishing in line breaks and smoothing occasional typos (e.g., “saddest” to “saddest”) would lift the technical finish, but emotional honesty is what shines through most.
A moving and wide-ranging contribution to your NaPoWriMo journey.
Thanks a lot i will fix the typo
I really enjoyed the way you shared your thoughts. Your tribute to Frank Zappa felt sincere. I could feel the admiration you have for him as an artist. I also loved how you shared your thoughts about the world. The care you took in describing Sam’s experience with his mother was wonderful. Thank you for sharing these poems – they were full of emotion. Thanks a lot as always
The death of America? Oh dear, I hope not. I looks like your post is full of gremlins and those dreaded (A) letters are all over the place. I wish this site could fix this problem. It sounds like you did a bit of travelling in your working life Jake. I learned a little bit more about you in this post, love Dolly xthanks I will fix that
From musicians to politicians and revolutions to birds here Jake. I expect you are glad the challenge is finally over now and you can rest your well-worn pen, good luck with the contest result, love Dolly xthanks a lot
Great job again. Your poem about the “Funeral Music for the Death of America” is so thought provoking! I liked how you used music choices to share the sadness running through your words. Your voice is clear and honest, and it made me stop and think. “Shredding the Constitution” and “Illegally impounding funds” also really stood out to me – powerful lines. Thanks a lot
I enjoyed all your poems. The bird story was my favorite though – it’s so funny. And I loved the birds with attitude! Great job – keep sharing more like this!
Jake, this is an impressively varied and emotionally honest collection.
Your Zappa tribute feels personal and grounded, giving us a glimpse of how his rebellious spirit resonated with you-a nice mixture of admiration and speculative sadness.
The insomnia piece captures the spiralling “what if” panic of sleepless nights with a raw, repetitive urgency that feels very true to experience.
The Sphinx poem leans into a mythic voice nicely, though stretching the imagery a little further could have strengthened it even more.
The caregiving piece is the most affecting-plain, unvarnished, and brutally human. You capture the conflicting emotions-duty, guilt, sadness, even relief-with a refreshing lack of sentimentality.
Small polishing in line breaks and smoothing occasional typos (e.g., “sadest” to “saddest”) would lift the technical finish, but the emotional honesty is what shines through most.
A moving and wide-ranging contribution to your NaPoWriMo journey.
Timthanks a lot i will fix the typo
I really enjoyed the way you shared your thoughts. Your tribute to Frank Zappa felt sincere. I could feel the admiration you have for him as an artist. I also loved how you shared your thoughts about the world. The care you took in describing Sam’s experience with his mother was wonderful. Thank you for sharing these poems – they were full of emotion.thanks a lot as always
I loved this poem collection! Your story about the crazy magpies made me smile! Each was unique and enjoyable in their own way. Your poems are full of heart – keep them coming!
Jake, your collection for April 23 offers a rich variety of tone and subject, and there is real pleasure in the movement between them.
The mocking birds piece is wild and vivid, capturing a surreal sense of menace with a playful edge-the birds cackling in Korean and English is a brilliant, slightly absurd detail.
Your piece on “reprogramming your mind” is a warm, important counterpoint: it reminds readers (and perhaps yourself) that joy still exists if we choose to seek it, without falling into preachiness.
The short memory about your house feels quiet and grounded, and the Shakespeare piece is a real highlight: personal, affectionate, and tinged with a sense of time passing.
Your affection for the classics shines through clearly.
If anything, the different pieces might feel a little loosely stitched when read together, but as a daily writing project, this kind of natural shift between moods feels entirely fitting.
A heartfelt and honest set.
Tim
It sounds like you enjoy your music and your family Jake and I wish you luck with your piano playing as you work your way through all those ancient composers, love Dolly x x x
Nicely done again. I like the unique formatting at the end. It’s clear you’ve put a lot of care into writing this. I can feel the frustrations of the system. Well done.
Review For Poems for April 22
Chapter 23 of the book APril 2025 poetry madness
Excellent
I love the heartfelt flow of your writing. I like how you speak about your Shakespearean actor friend and how that connection shaped your love for the Bard. That flows so naturally into Earth Day musings. The ending – about walking on Mars with your love – was perfect.
Review For Poems for April 22
Chapter 23 of the book APril 2025 poetry madness
Excellent
I glad to hear you have kept up your piano playing and music brings such a joy to others as well as pleasing your own ear. Shakespeare was far from gay, ha ha ha, he had many female lovers, love Dolly x x x
I am sorry you had a fall that caused you to have many operating Jake, how very sad this is. I had a fall that took me weeks to recover from earlier in the year. You are nearly at the end of this challenge and I admire you for keeping this up, love Dolly x x x
This was well done. The “DOGE Team Attacks” part was a nice touch that gave your poem a fun feeling. It’s nice to read your humor and personal experience in your writing – keep having fun with it!
You finally posted your last poem for the April challenge. So many desperate people want to live in the US thinking it is the best place to live, many are disappointed when they get there, love Dolly x x xthanks a lot
Your poem about Jake Piano Jones made me grin – I love how you showed his name changing over time and how he embraced it in the end! Your writing style is so easy to follow. The line “the damn muse will never leave me alone” made me laugh because it’s so true! Great job.thanks a lot
Well, it was bound to happen. AI bots now can write tolerable love poems. I experimented with a few and posted my AI-generated love poems below. I did not edit them, although a few needed editing. At the end of this piece, I listed the source sites so you can try them yourself.
Just for fun, I included three of my original love poems and challenge you to tell the difference.
If anyone wishes to submit their own AI love poems please do so and send me the link and I will post them.
Thunderstorm, Lightning
The sound of thunder and rain
The feel of hot rain
Successive weather
Successive, several
one of the coldest winters
a stroke of lightning
Summertime hot weather
Summertime hot weather
Sudden and violent storms,
Exposed to the cold.
Thunder
Lightning and thunder
the cold rain is coming down
they roar through the air.
A love Poem For Angela
Angela my darling, these words are for you
Reflecting affections decidedly true
Your humor and wit is what keeps us on track
Your spirited laugh I always laugh back
We travel the world see sites and explore
Culture, cuisine, couscous and much more
Deciding on details, a daunting task
Where to go, which way, together we ask
Italy, Japan and Thailand too
Sicilian fare that I cherish with you
Tiananmen, Timbuktu, or Toronto
Glorious beaches get set and let’s go
You work hard at your job, that’s what you do best
Your knowhow and skills surpass all the rest
Your charm and your smile just light up your face
I look up to you for wisdom and grace
Savvy intelligence, impressive IQ
Your intellect shines on all that you do
We go to the movies, it’s one of our treats
Munching on popcorn, snug in our seats
I’ll watch any drama with you by my side
Up on the screen, we see life magnified
Combat and court cases, battles to fight
Conflicting passions of wrong and what’s right
When you’re out for a stroll, I now realize
At the top of your list is great exercise
Our lives joined as one our love has no end
Our trust is our bond together we spend
Through ups and the downs, inseparably best
Whether we’re north, south, east or the west
Perseverance guides us through thick and thin
Tenacity bolsters you deep down within
I am ecstatic dear Angela that you are my wife
You light up my world, every day of my life
What is Love?
Space alien
Asks a question
For us humans
What is love?
I don’t know yet
I have thought about it
This much I know
What it ain’t?
Not just madness
Love is not chemistry
It is far more
That is it ?
The Alien smiled
Saying humans are strange
Nothing like them
Anywhere else
Is that the Truth?
Crying on that Date
Crying on that date
I experienced my future death
In my dreams,
I met my fate
My Father came first
Followed by my dream girl
Fulfilling out mad history
Pure insanity overwhelming us
Late in life
We became lovers
Loving every moment
Madness of our marriage
We were mates
Enjoying many moments
She became my mother
My partner
Always in my sight
My soulmate
After our wedding
Became my wife
My love for you is ever so strong,
My love for you is ever so strong,
My admiration for you forever long.
Your beauty is to me a never-ending song,
Your spirit is so vibrant and strong.
Your eyes sparkle with life’s mystery,
Your laughter brings joy and glee.
Your touch is as sweet as honey,
Your presence is a blessing to me.
Your loyalty and kindness so true,
Your love never wavers and its always new.
Your compassion is so pure and true,
Your embrace is like a warm hug from you.
Angela Lee my love for you never dies,
My heart and soul for you in the sky flies.
I love you so much and I will never cease,
My love for you is an eternal feast.
Your beauty intense,
My love for you so spicy,
Forever in love.
Lucky in Love
They say
One can be lucky in cards
Or lucky in love, but not both.
For me that is true
I met my wife
Who entered my life
Changing everything.
Almost as If I had won
The lotto or the jackpot
In a way, she was both.
I never was very good
At gambling
Usually losing when I tried
My luck in casinos.
My wife liked roulette
I played the nickel slots
A low roller gambling man
Won at blackjack once.
Lost at poker
In five minutes
Never learned craps.
22 lines Love Poem
When Sam Adams
Was 22 years old
He was in South Korea
Doing his Peace Corps duty.
He had gone there
In furtherance of a dream
A dream that had haunted him
For almost six years.
He first had the dream
On October 22, 1974
In a high school class
At 2:22 pm.
He fell asleep
Saw the most beautiful woman
In the world talking to him
He knew that he would marry her.
Then on September 22, 1982
At 2:22 pm
She walked off a bus into his life
They were married on October 22, 1982.
On October 22, 2022
They celebrated 40 years together.
Based on a true story. The dates were changed to fit the 22-number theme.
Love zejel
In my dreams, she first came to me,
She was all that I wanted to be.
Meeting her set my heart so free.
We met in early September.
A night that I must remember,
She was my wife by November.
She was all I wanted to see.
I truly met my love on that date.
For on date, I met my fate.
Two months later became my mate.
Filling my heart with cosmic glee.
My love for you, sweet Angela Lee,
My love for you, sweet Angela Lee,
Runs so deep it’s hard to see.
It’s like a fire that forever burns,
Making me yearn for your sweet return.
It’s more than love, it’s more than spice,
It’s a passion that will never cease.
It’s a bond that no one can break,
No matter how hard they try to take.
When I am with you, I feel so alive,
Like I can do anything I strive.
Your presence brings a warmth to me,
That I won’t ever want to flee.
My life is filled with love, joy and bliss,
All thanks to the love I have for you, Angela Lee.
You’re the one that I hold so dear,
And I’ll always be here to love you, my dear.
Love Cromoran
she came into life
on that date
soon became my wife
met my fate.
filling me with love
was my mate
just like a cute dove
it was great.
she is all that I need
cannot wait
just hear my plea
Play it straight,
There’s a sweetheart called Angela Lee,
There’s a sweetheart called Angela Lee,
So naughty and mischievous she can be.
When she’s with me, my heart skips a beat,
And I love her more than any treat.
She’s my special girl, no one can compare,
She’s my life and she’s always there.
When we kiss and hug, it’s always so sweet,
And I’m so lucky to have her as my sweetheart.
Our love is so strong, it’s hard to explain,
Our life together is like falling rain.
So I’ll whisper “I love you” into her ear,
And she’ll know that I’m sincere.
My Love, angela`
Your skin glows like the strawberry, blossoms sweet as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your violin voice and leaps like a antelope at the whisper of your name, angela`.
The evening ascends in on a great dove wing.
I am calmed by your delicate lace that I carry into the twilight of starbeams and hold next to my heart.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of honey.
As my eyes falls from your eyes, I am reminded of your smile.
In the hushed, I listen for the last splash of the spring.
My heated breast breathes inside my soul. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret body so that we may race as one, breast to breast, in search of the glorious blue sensual wings of love.
Your Skin Glows like the Peaches
Your skin glows like the peaches , blossoms sweet as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your flute voice and leaps like a bear at the whisper of your name, Cutie pie .
The evening ascends in on a great dove wing.
I am calmed by your delicate bra that I carry into the twilight of starbeams and hold next to my heart.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of honey.
As my eyes falls from your eyes, I am reminded of your smile.
In the hushed, I listen for the last splash of the spring.
My heated heart breathes inside my soul. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret body so that we may love as one, heart to heart , in search of the glorious black sensual music of love.
Your skin glows like the apples,
Your skin glows like the apples, blossoms adorable as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your trumpet voice and leaps like a lion at the whisper of your name, anita.
The evening ascends in on a great eagle wing.
I am calmed by your blue jeans that I carry into the twilight of moonbeams and hold next to my heart.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of honey.
As my eyes falls from your eyes, I am reminded of your smile.
In the hushed, I listen for the last splash of the spring.
My heated heart breathes inside my soul. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret body so that we may love as one, heart to heart , in search of the glorious black sensual music of love.
For My Adorable Ocean
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My name is adorable,
And so are you.
Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Your covered is chocolate,
And so is your hair.
Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
Your run is long,
And so are your legs.
Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
Your trout is brown,
And so are your eyes.
Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
A way is long,
And so are your arms.
Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
Brightness is dazzling,
And so is your smile.
Ocean is beautiful,
Just like you.
For My Playful Seahorse
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Reference is playful,
And so are you.
Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Powder is white,
And so is your hair.
Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
My body is fat,
And so are your legs.
Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
A mind is thoughtful,
And so are your eyes.
Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
A line is thin,
And so are your arms.
Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
The party is winning,
And so is your smile.
Select one of the 30 poem types below, and our AI system will generate a poem on your topic for you. Choose free verse, haiku, limerick, acrostic, and much more.
This poetry generator tool will write a sad freeform poem for you. In order to create the poem, you will enter a topic phrase. The phrase will be used in the title or body of the poem.
This poetry generator tool will write a dark poem for you. In order to create the poem, enter a topic phrase. The phrase will be used in the title or body of the poem.
This poetry generator tool will write a poem about a broken heart, unrequited love, or a breakup for you. In order to create the poem, you will enter the name of your love interest.
This poetry generator tool will write lines of a haiku for you using AI transformer models. Just enter a word and it will generate a list of haiku stanzas.
This poetry generator tool will write a concrete poem/shape poem about any topic you want. In order to create your concrete poem, you will select a shape and enter a subject and some keywords.
This poetry generator tool will help you write an acrostic poem. In order to create the poem, you will enter a subject word or phrase. The generator will find words that are associated with that word/phrase. Note: if you are writing a poem about a person, use the Name Poem Generator below.
This poetry generator tool will help you write an acrostic poem using a person’s name. This is different from the Acrostic Poem Generator above, which takes a noun as input and uses that to find related adjectives. The name poem generator uses adjectives that describe a person.
This poetry generator tool will help you write an I Am poem. In order to create the poem, you will need to enter a series of words or phrases about yourself.
This is a funny poem generator. You can generate a funny or silly poem with a message for someone (for example, ‘happy birthday’). This is a great gag poem generator for birthdays, anniversaries, roasts, etc..
This poetry generator tool will help you write a positive, loving poem about a friend or family member. In order to create the poem, you will need to enter the name of the person that you are writing about, their relationship to you, and some information about the person.
This tool will generate a love poem for Valentines’ Day. Just enter the name of your love interest, and this tool will generate a beautiful love poem for you.
This tool will use AI to generate a love poem for Valentines’ Day. Just enter the name of your love interest, and this tool will generate a beautiful love poem for you.
This tool will generate a kids’ poem for Valentines’ Day. Just enter the name of your love interest, and this tool will generate a sweet and fun poem about your crush.
This poetry generator tool will write a poem using the latest AI transformer models, trained on over 100 billion parameters. Enter a word or phrase and it will generate a poem.
This poetry generator tool will write lines of a poem for you using AI transformer models. Just enter a word and it will generate a list of poem stanzas.
This tool will use AI to generate a love poem for Valentines’ Day. Just enter the name of your love interest, and this tool will generate a beautiful love poem for you.
Welcome to our new rhyme generator. It has 134,000 words with full and partial rhymes, thanks to CMU’s dictionary. If you want more options to get specific words (prefix search, suffix search, syllable search, etc) try our rap rhyme generator. You can also use the old rhyme generator here.
What I need to find is a poetry dictionary that can tell me what meter my lines are in so I can tackle traditional metrical poetry. Does anyone know where I can find that?
Our love poem generator brings the traditional ‘Roses Are Red’ poem structure to life using adjectives chosen by you, combined with auto-generated similes and metaphors. Sometimes our robot gets the imagery spot on, at other times, the ideas are somewhat more abstract. You can either use our poems as they are, or copy them to a word processor and tweak to perfection.
Create a Love Poem | Love Poem Generator Fill in the form below, then press the “Create My PoetrySoup Love Poem” button to create your “original” love poem. Your Love’s Name Fruit: Adjective (sweet, lovable, adorable, etc.): Flower: Musical Instrument: Type of Animal: Type of Bird: Descriptive Clothing: Noun Body Part: A Liquid: Your Body Part:
Love Poem Generator. Enter the name of the person you are writing about: Start over. Other poetry generators: Funny Rhyming Poem About Someone Generator | Love Poem Generator | Heartbreak Poem Generator | Friend Or Family Poem Generator | Name Poem Generator | Dark Poem Generator | Acrostic Poem Generator | Sad Poem Generator | I Am Poem Generator | Haiku Generator | Haiku With My Own Words Generator | Concrete Poem Generator | Manual Concrete Poem Generator | Limerick Generator | Mothers …
Whether its for Valentines Day, or you need to sweep your significant other off their feet, our Love Poem Generator will get the job done. All we need is a Title for the Poem and the name of the Person or Thing that you love and we’ll make a unique Love Poem that you and your significant other can enjoy for years to come.
Poem Generator: The poem generator from Masterpiece Generator offer sto create an entire poem in a less than minute. The site can generate free verse poems, haiku, rhyming couplets, sonnets, limericks and more. Each of the poem generators creates poem based on text that you provide.
Jan 18, 2017 · Use our poetry generator to create a love poem to go with a bouquet of Valentine flowers for your one and only. Enter a few key words and, like magic, you’ve got an original poem. Shakespeare’s got nothing on you. And when words just aren’t enough, let the flowers do the talking. Love Poetry Gen
Unlikely Stories will publish my poem, “Jack Daniels Intervention” in their November edition.
Dear Jake,
Thank you for your continuing submissions to Unlikely Stories Mark V! I loved “Jack Daniels’s Failed Intervention” and would be delighted to publish it. We aim to run this piece sometime in the week of November 14-20.
Yes, please resend your bio. Also, please feel free to send a headshot.
If you tweet about publication, tag us at @USDotOrg, and we’ll retweet.
Please join our Facebook group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/unlikely.stories/. There, we’ll discuss your publication at Unlikely, and feel free to promote your other publications, as well.
And please consider becoming a patron at http://www.patreon.com/unlikelystories, and/or disseminating that link.
Also, in keeping with our activist mission, we’re asking contributors to recommend a charity. The charity will be mentioned at the end of your bio, like this: “Jake recommends [charity name and link].”
Charities can be any organization, anywhere in the world, that does not operate for profit. A charity does not need to be a registered non-profit. For example, another press or magazine that deliberately operates at a loss is fine. This program is of course voluntary. Please do contact me with any questions.
Thanks again,
Jonathan
Jack Daniel’s failed Intervention
Sam Adams
Was drinking alone
In the infamous Cosmos Bar,
In Bangkok,
The city of lost angels.
Twenty drinks too sober
He barely noticed
The naked ladies
Dancing on the stage.
On his table
He had a bottle of Jack Daniels
Along with a bottle of Johnny Walker
And five bottles of Singha beer.
Drinking his way to hell
Following the advice
Of the old song
This was his usual
Friday night routine
Just another pathetic loser
Drinking in the Cosmos bar.
The barmaids
Left him alone
He never paid them
No attention anymore.
He was there
To make love
to his booze bottles,
the booze bottles,
were his only friends.
That night,
About 0 dark hundred
He looked up.
Saw the bottle of Jack Daniels
Had somehow transformed
Into that of a younger version
Of Sam Adams.
The figure announced,
That he was the spirit
Of Jack Daniels
And had a message
For Sam Adams.
“Master,
It is not my place
To complain
But you are
Drinking a bit too much.
Twenty drinks a night
For the last few weeks,
Don’t you think?
You are so far gone
You don’t even notice
The naked ladies
Anymore.
I want you
To quit
This one-way ride
Down the hell hole.
Put down the bottle
Go home with Khun Lek
Who will help you forget
What you need to forget.
If you continue drinking tonight,
The only destination is death
My friend the Grim Reaper
Has your ticket
Ready for redemption.
So, stop drinking “
Soon the other bottles
In front of him
Started talking to him
Pleading with him
To just stop drinking.
He stared out
Convince he was going mad
The barmaids stared
At the unholy sight,
As the bottles in the room
All came alive,
And began chasing Sam,
Out into the busy street
Where a bus ran him over,
Died on the spot.
Thus ended Sam Adams’s
Last binge
In the city of lost angels.
Note: There is a real Cosmos Bar in Bangkok, at least there was back in the day. This is based on a writing com prompt to write a personification poem about the feelings of an inanimate object, I chose a bottle of Jack Daniels.
I submitted the following as well, but there were not published.
The Shrimp Talkback
Gov Abbot Calls for Freedom of Choice In Making Medical Decisions = Irony Meters Blow A Gasket Found Poem with snarky commentary
Governor Abbot, What Is Wrong with You? COVID
9-11 Evil
the Shrimp Talkback
shrimp
Sam Adams and friends
Were enjoying a shrimp feast,
Watching the live shrimp
Being roasted
Waiting to enjoy eating them.
The head shrimp jump out of the pot
Followed by other shrimp
Soon thousands of shrimp
Were everywhere.
The head shrimp spoke up
“Humans
What gives you the right
To kill us,
To eat us,
To burn us alive?
Perhaps we should kill you
Tear you apart
And eat you?
Would you like that
You human scumbags?”
The shrimp surrounded the humans
Swarming all over them
Killing them.
Burning them
As they overturn
The flaming pots
Biting them
Smothering them
In hot sauce
As they eat them.
Screaming
“Death to all humans.”
The head Shrimp finally said,
Time to go
We are so out of here.
The shrimp all ran out the door
And back into the shrimp farm waters.
The firefighters
Find the charred remains
Of the humans.
Now just charred skin and bones,
Wondering how they died.
The shrimp in the pound
Lookout,
Wondering if they should attack
But decide they had eaten
Enough human meat.
For the evening.
Gov Abbot Calls for Freedom of Choice in Making Medical Decisions = Irony Meters Blow a Gasket -found poem
“
FILE PHOTO: Texas Governor Greg Abbott speaks at the annual National Rifle Association (NRA) convention in Dallas, Texas, U.S., May 4, 2018. REUTERS/Lucas Jackson/File Photo
Apparently,
Rhetorical consistency
Is about as high
On Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s agenda
As ensuring his constituents
Have a working power grid,
Are safe in their schools
And can easily vote.
On Thursday,
the Republican governor
fired off a tweet,
blasting President Joe Biden’s announcement,
of new requirements for large employers,
to ensure workers either get vaccinated
or face weekly COVID-19 tests.
Calling the mandate
an “assault on private businesses,”
Abbott pledged that Texas,
or its GOP leadership anyway,
was working to thwart Biden’s “power grab.”
And here’s where the tragicomic
part comes in.
“I issued an Executive Order
protecting Texans’
right to choose
whether they get the COVID vaccine
Added it to the special session agenda,”
If you’ve been paying attention,
you’re then aware
that Abbott’s tweet trumpeting
Texans’ right
to make individual health choices,
comes days after he signed a law.
banning the majority
of abortions in the state.
Abbott is talking
out both sides of his mouth
when it comes to matters of choice.”
Comment:
The irony meters
Have blown a gasket
You talk about the right to choose
The right to not get vaccinated
Or wear a mask.
You know that is the right
To infect everyone else
Including you
You and your family could die.
Because of idiots
Who refuse to get a vaccination
Or wear a mask.
The blood is on your hands
Own it.
The corona ghosts
Are watching you.
Governor Abbot, what is Wrong with You?
Governor.
I want to ask you a very simple question
about your opposition to mass mandates
and vaccination requirements,
and your saying people have a right to choose
not to get vaccinated, or wear a mask.
what is wrong with you?
Right now,
in this country,
COVID is spreading out of control/
especially in Texas and Florida,
and a few other states
where the vaccination rate is fairly low
and people have abandoned wearing masks.
People are dying
Because so many people
Refuse to do the right thing.
Get a vaccine
Wear a mask
Avoid crowds
If everyone did their part
The pandemic would be soon over.
But if people
Continue to follow your guidance
Acting like the self-centered scumbag
That we now see you are,
Thousands more will die
The economy will not re-open
Travel will not resume.
Perhaps more dangerous variants
Will emerge.
And it is all on you
Governor Abbot.
Just man up,
Admit you were wrong
Encourage people to shut up.
Get the vaccine
And save your state
And country.
The corona ghosts
Are watching you!
Evil
Evil in this world
lurks in the deadliest places.
Evil came to town on 911
the day that evil swept over the world
a true Black Swan event
that transformed everything
splitting the world into a pre-9-11 world
and a post 9-11 world
unleashing the War on Terror, the wars in Afghanistan, the wars in Iraq, the war in Libya, the war in Syria, the wars in Africa, the horrors of ISIS, the horrors of the Taliban resurgent, the horrors of Al Qaeda and all the rest of the Muslim terrorists, the war in the streets of any big city, the war on Muslims, the war on Christians, the war on Jews, the apartheid in Palestine, the wars on dissent at home, the Arab Spring
so many things can be traced
to the impact of 9/11
one of the most unlikely events
of recent history
that transformed
everything
yes there was a pre-9-11 world
hard to imagine now
and a post 9-11 worldwide police state
on steroids
lost democracy at home
and abroad
we are still coping
with the damages unleashed
by the evil plane bombers
fulfilling their mad desires
their dictates from their mad God
transforming the world
unleashing evil
on the once innocent world.