License to Eat

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Poem a day #19 is a response to prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a license poem and 2) write an abecedarian.

Apples color red or green just
because they’re somewhat like fruit
cake in the throws of this tongue.

Didn’t we play hot tomato games
everyday, asking for a good place
for the homeless child who often

goes to bed only to forget about
hunger? To do the righteous thing
in church or not, matters so little.

Just enough time is hard to find for
keeping track of every last day
lost when nightfall went down hard,

morning dew sprinted like traffic.
Next door to the train station sits
plenty of fresh food left outside

quite ruined now with rot by time
resting it’s hard head in a soft hat.
Sounds of hawkers selling worry

tell me it’s time to season what’s
under the table but not let new
violets fade quickly for children

want too much chance and never
Xmas gifts, still offer up thanks.

Yuletide cheer is something only
zealots pass out as fruit for lunch.

 

 

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Little Thoughts

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Poem a day #18 is a response to prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: 1) Take the phrase “Little (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem, and 2) write an elegy.

We celebrated all your birthdays
except for the last since you went
and crossed over that week bridge

to your history, dreams, memories
you never held at bay when trying
to sleep, the night was long in time

and thoughts of past lives and fear
of dying kept you awake as if
such secrets were yours to ponder.

Where does your night mind fall now
or is it wandering above new rivers
running fast beyond life’s streaming?

Beyond Reason

img_6949Poem a day #17 is a response to prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a reason  poem, and 2) write a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view.

There are interesting articles written
about you and your family.

In this case, the only reason why
I have not heard the one about

the dancer in your thoughts isn’t
that important. I just forgot you

were leaving for work and not
coming back tomorrow evening.

When I got to work, a friend read
me a few sentences about you

and your family. I will have to go
back and pick up some good time

just because you’re not interested
in doing it for me and you want

nothing better than a good reason
and only salad for dinner tonight.

 

I Release You

img_6894Poem a day #16 is a response to prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a catch or release poem, and 2) write a poem that uses the form of a list to defamiliarize the mundane. 

On the street where you lived
there are still some interesting
things going on without you

On the street where you lived
there are books piled high like
you’re going to choose one today

On the street where you lived
there is Greek restaurant burn out
the same food falls with the rain

On the street where you lived
there are early flowers blooming on
the way to dying like you did

On the street where you lived
there are ghosts of the famous haunting
the front stoop where I let you go

 

 

I Know My Fate

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Poem a day #15 is a response to prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a prediction poem and 2) write a dramatic monologue poem.

I will bid farewell to where
that lonely house still rests

on that distant strand where
as a child, I strode too deep

into the fast end of summer swirl
waves jostling my fading tan.

It will be a blistery Irish day
in May before the tourists

flock here. Still I will feel alone
on the wide sun-blocked field

of sand and tinted sky, a single
speck swept up by a distant sea.

I know my fate. I often dream
of waves, violent somersaults

amidst salty foam my face
and knees gravel as my lungs

fill, a quick and painless washing
away as hurt and happiness meld

with no one around
as witness.

New Jersey

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Poem a day #14 is a response to prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: 1) write a state poem, and 2) write a poem incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms.

Towers of windows now wind
and soar across the Hudson.

Masons,  sore for pharaohs,
bore cold and heat to erect

these pyramids from paper.
Printers waited to press all

keen architects penciled in
line by line, scribes rendering

a vision,  elbowing in the new
from boardrooms. Once factories

and fisheries lined that shore,
coached out blue and shampoo,

squeezed up nets and toothpaste.
Boats and barge tugged only river

work under the blissful shadow
of flawless blue Jersey City sky.

 

Mysterious Takeaway

img_20181124_134026436Poem a day #13 is a response to prompt from Poetics Asides and NaPoWriMo:  1) write a view poem, and 2) write a poem about something mysterious and spooky!

You told me how you love to cook
the same way I do just because
we both feel the presence
of the one gone
We both take to quiet solitude
lost in mystery books and films
the stories we tell ourselves
amid the smells of Chinese
chicken or eggplant ratatouille,
chopping vegetables and sipping
wine feeling the presence
of the one gone
a fine friend found lounging
on the couch in the next
room waiting for our return
ready to eat what we’ve made
Today I am cooking and thinking
of you because you are now
the one gone
No longer at the other end
of a phone call,  the line gone dead.