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PAD Finish Line Reached
poem (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I reached the finish line today of this year’s annual Poem-A-Day Challenge, hosted by Robert Lee Brewer of Writer’s Digest’s Poetic Asides.
Three days spent out in the wilds of the north country near the Canadian border has advantages. The wilds had a cook shack with great food, live entertainment, plenty of friendly folk to keep a body moving and interacting, learning and taking away new experiences and perspectives. It also had nighttime freezing temps, daily sunshine, sprinkles when relaxation was needed, and a small-town parade with all the usual trimmings.
While out there on the high plateau, I kept thinking about poetry and what I’d take away from the Rendezvous that I could use later for either verse or prose. I’d met unique people with otherwise long-lost talents, children who could defend themselves without anger or cook over an open fire without complaint. I’d seen crafts that rivaled any in a museum anywhere. And best of all, I came home knowing that I will go back next year for a repeat.
The PAD challenge continued without me, but I’ve managed to put together something for each of the days missed. I hope you enjoy these small offerings and that you’ll continue to return to this blog after this challenge ends. I have a new, improved blog for the end of the week, with new pages to visit and things to see. Until then, daily posts will continue.
Now, on to poetry.
Day 27 Prompt: “The Trouble is (blank)” Fill in blank, make it the title, and write poem.
The Trouble is Time Bending
Arbitrary limits,
On something non-existent,
Takes no talent, no finess.
Limiting nothing takes
More than care,
Requiring belief
That increments from
One mind equal
Production possibilities.
How can seconds become
Minutes or hours, when
Only days/nights exist in time?
Does breathing count
As a measuring stick, or pulse,
When clocks don’t function?
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Day 28 Prompt: Write a problem poem.
What Price Time
Forcing life into minutes and hours,
Taking life from the living,
Becoming machines, wound up
For the pleasure of someone else.
Can we not function except to
Sweep hands and crystal faces?
Are we mindless with this labyrinth,
Marking existence with clicks and clangs?
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Day 29 Prompt: Take a favorite line from an earlier poem this month, and rework it into a new poem.
Prayers Danced in Circles
Call forth with drum and song
Answers from Creator’s hand.
Step lively in obedience,
Sing with heart’s voice to
Weave supplication upward
Toward Creator’s ear.
Circles with unending,
Beginning, revolving in circuit,
To define all life as one,
Connected and connecting.
Such is Earth, Water, Fire, and Air—
Each touching each, depending,
Giving, moving forward as willed,
Calling singers, dancers to moving circles,
Calling forth prayers to the heavens.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Day 30 Prompt: Write a take-away poem. Open interpretation.
Too Long, Too Short
Thirty days hath April,
Poems coming still,
A challenge for all.
Nothing too small
To contribute in word
Thoughts, noun or verb.
Is thirty days too long, too short,
For birthing poems for sport?
Should we make this habit,
A daily ritual, or run as rabbit?
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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PAD Day 26—Fur, Fowl and Animal Poems
Today’s poem challenge is to write about an animal, addressing any aspect desired. Okay, I can do that. Like most people I’m fond of animals. They serve so many purposes within our lives that to have a world devoid of them seems sacrilegious.
Growing up in the country guaranteed that I knew and appreciated the roles of animals in our daily lives. So many years later, I still consider them the gifts of the earth, put on loan to us; teachers to teach us how to be guardians. You can decide for yourselves if we’ve ever learned the lessons.
Some creatures inhabit our dwellings as friends and family members. Others enrich our lives with their colors, textures, uniqueness, and myriad dimensions. The poems I’ve done today for this challenge are from both sides of the animal question; in house and outside it.
As always, I hope you enjoy these small efforts of mine. Take the time to comment; share some of your animal tales with others, if you wish. Above all, take a good look at what your life would be like without the non-human inhabitants in your life.
Companion Truth
Brandy orbs trusting, I see
Filled with love looking at me,
Gentle power of loyalty
Ever near, ever dear sentry.
Raise the call with nose held high
Licker of feet for miles gone by,
Pass this way my care to enjoy
Walk at heel my life an envoy.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Vixen’s Siren
Screams fill the night,
Terrorizing the listener.
Finger hovers over 911,
Until reason asserts truth.
It’s spring;
Her annual mating ritual begins
With blood-chilling siren song,
Seeking company for the nonce,
The vixen readies to entertain.
© Claudette Young 2012
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PAD Day 23 Prompt: Write a morning poem
Walt Whitman's use of free verse became appreciated by composers seeking a more fluid approach to setting text. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I begin my day like most people. Yet, within ten minutes of getting up the computer is one and I’m in my chair beginning the day. The time of day varies according to the hour I got to bed the night before.
This month, which is winding down and has many of us scrambling to complete writing challenges accepted twenty-three days ago, has forced me to accomplish at least four things each day that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. That’s a huge change, but a welcome one. Even as I feel harried on occasion, I also feel vindicated in my belief in self. If nothing else has come of this month, I have that for however long I choose to remain true to it.
Since I’ve already announced the poetry prompt of the day, let’s get on with it. I hope you enjoy these offerings for this Monday morning.
God’s Alarm Today
Ribbons of ethereal light-splashed color
Pour out their hearts for my sake,
To bring me back into this waking world
Without need for jangling noise
Or mind-bending musical accompaniment.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Sleep
A moan, a stretch, each signals awareness
Of body, long seconds before mind is engaged,
Just before spirit reclaims thought to realize
Your presence is gone with night’s dream.
Wonderment at spirit’s choice of companions
Floods the body, releasing joys at reunion
With one absent so long from life’s path,
Giving solace with knowledge of future visits.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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PAD Challenge Day 22
Cover of Fairest
We poets have been put on the bench this morning for the prompt: write a judging poem. You can be the judge or, if you prefer, you can be the one judged. Okay, Robert. Here goes.
Guilty
Don’t we cringe
When faced with stares
That bring blushes
To cheeks, downcast eyes?
Who can say with truth
They never did wrong?
Who can stand upright
Without guilt lying within?
Who can judge any but self?
© Claudette J. Young
Have you ever had one of those lines that haunt you, keep running through your mind so that it zips back through at the oddest times? Me too. Those over at Poetic Bloomings must have had the experience as well, because they gave us the opportunity to take care of that problem today.
The poetry prompt this morning was to “take the last line of a poem you’ve already written this year and make it the first line of a new poem. Like a dutiful poet, I complied. Here’s the result. I took the last line of my poem for Day 13 of the PAD Challenge and used it for a different concept for Poetic Bloomings. I hope you enjoy the irony.
Beauty
A sacrifice to her hourglass self,
Her life becomes a painful series
Of diets, exercise, and calorie counting,
Striving always to be Mirror’s perfect
Reflection, a temple to evoke envy
From all who witness her magnificence.
Ah, the resounding pity, should anyone
Guess she wept each day for the luxury
Of tasting just one sliver of birthday cake.
Queens pay, too, for being the Fairest of Them All?
© Claudette J. Young
Please leave a comment if it suits your fancy.
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Senedipity and Friends
Serendipity waves her wand across our lives on a regular basis, whether we realize it or not. I read Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides writing prompt this morning and thought, “Yep, I can do that one and had a title immediately.”
It wasn’t an original title; so few really are original. On fill-in-the-blank prompts, Muse either slips you filler quickly or not. I took an unconscious page from my old IBM days and did an “if, then else” statement in my head after I wrote the title. **For those unfamiliar with old programming code, an “if, then else” statement is one which is a prompt in itself. “If X happens, then what will happen next. If X does not happen, the what will happen next.”
For Robert’s Day 20 Prompt—Use “Let’s (blank)” as title. Fill-in the blank with word/phrase, use as title, and write the poem to it, my mind went to an old roommate back in the seventies and how things went from there. I called it–
Let’s Dance the Night Away
Two AM call caught us finally sitting,
A pair of disco addicts who came each night
To crowd a small floor, meet with friends
And laugh with others in new steps.
You faded from my life not long after,
A need that required distance to perform
Without recriminations or ever-afters,
A fact you could never appreciate.
Two to tango was never the real problem,
Though taking advantage was your forte,
For a con man needs only a woman’s faith,
Never was my enjoyment at issue.
Frankly I outgrew your need to mooch and moan;
Now my life and resources are my own.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Along the same lines but with different outcomes, just a couple of days ago, I reconnected with an old friend with whom I hadn’t talked since the mid-nineties. This was a person for whom I’ve searched for years with no success. He, too, had searched for me. Now that reconnection has ensued, life seems smoother than days before.
There’s so much to catch up on, so many personal travel logs to read. As I look toward this acquaintance process, I can’t help but look at this poem as a kind of letting-go of unfortunate experiences and a taking-up of those which uplift and secure.
Serendipity strikes again. Did she see it coming? Were the two events entwined on my star chart under a heading of “Let’s put things right”?
I hope you enjoy this day’s offering. Please leave a comment as you wish. Here’s hoping Serendipity waves her wand over you today.
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Write a Life Event Poem
Title page from the second edition of A Memoir of Jane Austen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Memoir seems to be a hot genre at present. Everywhere I look I find courses on writing it, sites to encourage it, challenges that require it.
All writers use elements of memoir each time they sit down to a keyboard. The act of writing itself teems with memoir elements.
Today’s Poetic Asides prompt merely brought it out of the shadows and onto a broader page for viewing. Poetry rides in a horse called sensory memory. That horse’s saddles bags are filled with personal experiences, perceptions, life’s illusions, and emotive qualities. The poet’s spurs are used to guide, not goad her mount toward an end goal.
A life event is by definition a memory that has changed a person’s perspective, at the very least. It probably also changed the person’s life in some way. All of us have such experiences, and sooner or later, we write them out for others to see. The following poem is my offering for this prompt of “Write a Life Event Poem.” Enjoy.
Shattered Glass and Mental Mirrors
Fractured images greeted me
With wide-open eyes that day,
Leaving behind panic, dismay,
Never thoughts of revelry.
Beyond doctors and onto life,
I built myself a future,
Complete plan to fight any strife,
To cut losses and suture
Together paths for new learning
Canes, dogs, all necessary
For work within limits, churning
With needs that I not tarry.
Years passed, moving toward this place
I come to with verse’s words,
Telling tales of things done and faced
This group of kindest souls, this space.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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Food: Taking Poetry by the Throat
When Robert Lee Brewer handed out his challenge assignment this morning on Poetic Asides, I imagine his grin and his thoughts. “They’re gonna be all over this one. I can see it now.”
He was right, you know. We did stomp all over this prompt-of-the-day. Food is right up my alley, as my backside can attest. He wanted us to write about regional cuisine—either the food itself or some aspect pertaining to it. This was my response.
It sits, having conquered gravity
To reign over table and diners.
Six layers of diabetes, waiting
For consumption by the sliver.
Who’d’ve expected one pie
To feed twenty sugar addicts?
We wait, breathe held, for slicing
To begin so that we can let
Our portion melt, slither, find
Our centers to give that rush
To bodies needing Pilates more
Than three kinds of caramel in
Six stacked shells of doughy goodness.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Meanwhile, over at Poetic Bloomings. I found In-Form Poet proceedings for the day. Poet Jan Turner invented a new form not long ago, which puts limits on some areas of form, while leaving others untouched. It goes like this.
Write a Tri-Fall poem:
- Three stanzas of six lines each
- Rhyme scheme of a,b,c,a,b,c
- Syllable count for each stanza: 6-3-8-6-3-8
- No specific meter
- Little to no punctuation
- Any subject will do
Since I was already subject oriented from the Poetic Asides prompt, I stayed on the subject of regional food, parked myself at Granny’s table, and wrote about what had been placed before me. My goal was to write a story in this poem. I’m hoping to capture a memory. You’ll have to tell me if I succeeded in telling the story.
Table long, groaning now
under weight
of platters, dishes, and elbows.
Ham, chops, eggs galore vow
to stay late
just to erase dieter’s woes.
Clasping hands for prayer
waiting now
‘til men get theirs and kids do too.
Smells so good this home fare
“Where’s the cow?”
Utters late-comer with “moo.”
“Stayed outside,” replies Gran
“Sit and eat.”
all bowls cleaned, platters empty too.
Belt loose on a lone man
children sleep
in laps of soft-talking moms.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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Cracking the Genre Code
(L to R) American science fiction, fantasy, and horror author William F. Nolan, American science fiction and horror author Jason V Brock, American science fiction and horror author John Shirley American science fiction author Frank M. Robinson . (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Did you ever think of poetry as a vehicle for science fiction and fantasy? If you haven’t, don’t berate yourself. Most people haven’t.
Today’s poetry prompt, though, asks for that very thing. Poetic Asides Two-for-Tuesday Prompt Challenge: Write a science fiction poem and a fantasy poem. So without further ado, I give you my response to that challenge. (Note: For me, it can be serious and filled with drama. I can also do the twist.)
Paramis Shared
Where mottled sky and earth meet,
Dark shadows pool amid cliffs and plains.
Under stars making up Ryan’s Hope,
All my children begin their pilgrimage
Toward the annual space dome challenge,
On a search for tomorrow’s new tech,
That will ease the days of our lives
And take us through the coming cycles
Of our guiding light, with the bold
And the beautiful flashes of Earth’s last
I wait for their return, for their new knowledge,
Knowledge that will temper our fears,
Watching as the world turns its face once
More toward our sun, to live in constant day.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Paths
Road traveling star lanes
Divested weather vanes,
Enter worlds before unknown
Ever searching adventure,
Many times liquid streams,
Plains, mountains, fancy dreams.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Dream of Home
Green-lit caverns deep
Warmth-washed moisture seep,
Emerald pool crystalline
Bathers recline, eased within.
Muffled laughter ripples soft
Against pinnacle ceiling aloft,
Spending regard gentle and pure
Ever drawing me toward the lure,
Of sweetest home beyond compare
Acceptance true in the heart’s lair,
Smiling eyes open embrace here
Evaporating distant fear.
Know longing gentle breath
Inside home’s green caverns depth.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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Mixing It Up with Poetry
Today’s prompt on Poetic Asides was simple. Write a mixed-up poem, no restrictions on subject or how you mix it up.
Again, wide open prompts like this one bring out a creative spark in people who must be seen to be believed. Humor cuddles with inspiration; absurdity takes a swing at nonsense, at the same time that both end with profound observations; teasers dive off the board into a sea of emotive pieces that defy categories; and cento makes an appearance from a pro. You just can’t predict what you’ll find inside the prompt’s comment section.
Take mine, for instance. When I began writing this morning, I intended to write about having been given the wrong directions for driving to a specific location. Not a difficult assignment from myself.
I got eight lines in and realized that Muse was dictating again on a subject that paralleled my intent. It became inspirational instead, surprising me as much as anyone. And I allowed it. Here it is for your perusal. Enjoy reading.
Much Needed Surprise
I followed your directions,
Though there were missteps.
I’d begin once again,
Hoping to make no detours.
I left early but arrived on time
To your doorstep, a marvel sublime.
A picket fence greeted me,
Banking rivers of pansies,
Holding back a flood of color.
I didn’t think you’d remember
My favorite flowers and all.
You kept my swing company
Until I arrived to feel the peace,
Created for me by your side.
There, within your glory I’ll
Live for all eternity, a child
Learning To Be as one with thee.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
Below is the poem I wrote this morning for Poetic Bloomings, which required verse focused on “senses” in all their definitions.
We hear world’s echoes,
And see daydreams unfold.
Aromas fill our heads instead of humor,
With joys known or
Disgust at odorous repeats.
Fingers trace life’s passing,
While feet feel roads beneath.
And taste sensations
Keep our appetites replete.
© Claudette J. Young 2012
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