2023 Poem-A-Week Challenge (Poems Only Thread)

[cascadiabound]

Retirement is now full-blown
Each moment we can make our own
True abundance of riches
Icelandic seas and northern lights
Re-imagining days and nights
Establishing patterns anew
Making every dream come true
Each item on your bucket list
Now waiting to be realized
Tantalizing our imagination
Potential for adventure
Offerings all o’re the globe
Expansive possibilities we’ll probe
Making camp, taking sail
Find an old forgotten trail
Open our minds to revelations
Rigging sails and running wild
Point the compass without guile
All roads all seas all weather
U and me – such fun together
Love adventure and laughter

Week 6: Poem 1: Total 7

 

[29wordsforsnow]

On your one final day
what is left to say?

The days passed by
like pearls on a string
most of them shiny
some needed a polishing
the number of steps so tiny
before we head for goodbye

What more should we say
on your one final day?

Good health, and enjoy the time
we stop short of may it be long
now is no time for terrible omens
stating Today, I wanted to be strong
you wipe away the celebratory slogans
after forty-four years you gonna be fine

On your one final day
what is left I could say?

Maybe a metaphor
like that of the orchid
we both care for



Unlike pearls on a string
life seems more like this beautiful flower
full-blown blossoms you can already look at
in all their shades and shapes little wonders
and you never know if behind a bend
is not another bud that still needs to open

On your one final day
you know what to say

For everyone to know
I now am going to retire
except for my flowers

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Month 2 Week 7 Poem 10

Poet (a curtal sonnet)

We have never met but I do know that
we would get along as lifelong friends do,
share our favourite music and talk of
pieces such as Bach’s Magnificat
or of Joni Mitchell’s album “Blue”
I wonder if we might fall in love.

Perhaps it all starts with holding hands
then touching skin, soft as a dove
exploring forbidden borderlands.
I see me lying, with him above,
…..so it stands.

 

[goddessofglee]

1/52

•The moon said to me•

What is lovely about the moon is that it's so lonely, yet it still glows better than most of us.

read the above somewhere...
so Grace added...

the moon is lonely,
all alone in the sky,
in the darkest of nights,
in it's shimmering dim light,
to brighten our pathway
in dark twilight!

be as the moon,
spread your light
in the gloom,
many of us
aren't bright enough
but we're striving although,
to try to glow,
flicker as we grow!
as the moon we adore!

yet...
it's time to go,
rise and shine your glow,
but the moment is passed,
hope it'd go on forever to last!

 

[Piscator]

February Fourteenth

One of the most anxious days
of my elementary existence
and you don’t have to be
Sherlock to know why
cause while everyone was
supposed to give cards to
everyone else, but it didn’t
always work out that way
and I never did got a Batman
Valentine's card like Amy gave
Donald but got a green Kermit
the Frog card from Amy instead.

But that’s all paper in the
recycling box and I’ve got
a red heart-shaped Valentine’s
box of dark chocolates for
when you get in at midnight
tomorrow and maybe this time
the cards will be in my favour.

 

[goddessofglee]

2/52

•But only if you want!•

You can do anything,
but if you want to do it!
You can make dreams come true.
You can reach for the stars,
and never look back, afar.

You can fly if you want to,
You can pave your path too.
You can choose to be great,
and never depend on fate.

You can smile and be alive,
step forth, onto a new stride,
You can take on the world anew,
buckle up your worn-out boots.
You can choose a better pathway,
And find the light of today.

You can do, if you want to,
You can reach and grasp the view.
You can try your best to not let loose.
You can make your dreams come true,
Make your fantasies real,
always aim to be healed!

 

[Tzara]

Inarticulate

If I were fourteen, I could simply
slip an unsigned card
into your geography text
or slide a chocolate bar shaped
like a weirdly elongated heart
into one of the outer pockets
of your backpack or that red coat
that would always make me shiver
with pleasure when I spied
it on the other side of the schoolyard.
But fourteen was a long time ago
for both of us, so all I have
are some words that are nothing
like hearts or kisses, not even sweet,
and this poem is like a note
more pathetic than coherent
but which I leave here anyway
in case you might see it, laying
like a bedraggled rose, thorns tipped
with drops of what really is my blood.

Week 7: Poem 1: Total 13

 

[29wordsforsnow]

To a single-mother friend

One day after Valentine's*
for you a calm celebration
thrust aside the moon-heard sighs
the joy of life a hard-fought prize
another day again we say, best of luck
for you the greatest gift within your hug
hardly audible your words of adoration
You stay, you smile, forever mine


*today is International Childhood Cancer Awareness Day

 

[goddessofglee]

3/52
•Goddess baths in the brook•

Bathing naked in the dark.
I feel liberated and free.
with no human beings around,
but me in nature's symphony.
●
Horizon is my destination,
far peaceful, and serene,
I rejuvenate like the daffodil
reborn as a new beginning!
●
The stars and the moon,
wash off my darkness and gloom.
The bubbling of the stream,
a lullaby to my ears.
The trickling of the water,
souls been released from fears.
●
Bathing naked in the dark,
I feel so alive and pure.
Bright darkness of the night,
a feeling I cannot ignore.
●
The cool water of the brook,
even before it touches me,
gets wet, before it gets to touch me.
Then it does touch me deep within,
the water caress my thighs
as it tenderly looks.
The canoodle of the cool water,
liberating me from my captivity!
●
I wash my wetness down,
into the enormous sea,
to make the water turn liqueur,
intoxicating whosoever drinks,
in a blend of pure divinity!
●

 

[butters]

week 7—poem #7


they know

there's a dark reality
understood
by the military, church-leaders alike

one counts it as another
rarely mentioned
regrettable acceptable loss
not the stuff of recruitment campaigns

the other frames it
in more archaic terms
builds an entire system
on 'thou shalt not kill'—
unless it's condoned by god's holy word

because they know
how killing changes a man
how it can haunt
a life-sentence of mental trauma
how it harms a heart

but the part they don't speak aloud
don't push from the pulpit and dais
is how some find joy
freedom
an addictive love for the act

politicians
the visual middle men
wring their hands
offer thoughts and prayers
bury statistics
and quiet payments
beneath bland-titled bills
commend hero cops
for taking down another killer

 

[butters]

week 7—poem #8


some say the world is made of shame
but the rocks, trees, birds, seas
they feel no shame
it resides in hearts of mankind
and in general
the kinder they are
the greater the burden
though often a far smaller bag
is warranted
for their bricks of guilt
even as the shameless
walk unfettered
when their knees should be pressed to the earth

 

[Moochienanu]

I crave feeling you
Your touch
The wind
Sweeping me up
I know I won’t fall

You carry me
Your kiss
The memory
Catching my breath
I know I won’t fall

Leave me here
Our love
The thread
Pulling us closer
I know I’m falling.

 

[Angeline]

Valentine
Let us be lovers. We'll marry our fortunes together.
~Paul Simon, America

Oh lover you're hidden
among a crowd of stars,*
far far away, so distant
now I should forget all we shared,
do myself a favor

some say

I am harmed in this lingering,
this closeness of spirit
even as you are ashes
and I can but imagine how you held me
safe, taught me to trust love again,
even when loss strikes over and over,
and my ghosts are more real
to me than the sentient world

I can never let you go.

*Reference to WB Yeats, When You Are Old


Week 7, Poem 1, Total Poems 10

 

[Lyricalli]

Cabbage, salt, time
understanding the science
doesn't spoil this magic

 

[Angeline]

 Acadia

We climb the rocky crest
on Cadillac Mountain, waiting
for dawn to touch this easternmost outpost
of the continent, to rise up the granite
outcroppings, the cobblestones
and twisted pines and spread
across the harbor, announcing the day.

The wind hisses through the trees
and we shiver. Dawn is always cold
here; it grabs you even in Spring,
when pollen rides the air, swirls
yellow patterns on your car.

We greet the new day
with hazelnut coffee, hot and sweet
as our kisses, promises pledged
in tongue tips dancing, saving places
for later in our soft, blue bed,
after toast and a mushroom omelette,
one sense sated, another only now
awakening.

Week 7, Poem 2, Total Poems 11

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Poem 12 Week 7 Month 2

Valentines

I didn’t send a valentine,
I had no words to say
and no romantic ending line
to finish anyway.

I wanted to, I really did,
but shyness won the day.
All my thoughts were turbid,
bent on sexual swordplay,

and when I checked my in-coming
he’d beat me to the punch,
a valentine was waiting, humming
love with flowers in a bunch.

 

[Mrtenant]

Raven's Call

But the adventure is just beginning
Where the raven flies in her dreams
Out among the stacks and the rocks
Where the surf crashes and sprays

Destinations far flung and closeby
Where she will fly among the stars
Finding wonders and monuments
Crafted through forces eons ago

And so it is with a gleam in her eye
Gaining new knowledge and wisdom
Lifelong learnings and creations
Of stories where no map can tell

Fly beyond the westward horizon
Your destiny was made so long ago
Long before any of us have ever known
It is time, can you feel the dawn breeze

Week 7, poem 1

 

[Mrtenant]

Hot Showers

Steam billowing beyond the glass
Streams of water casting their spell
Aching bone deep from the strain
Slowly moving so tired beyond belief
Muscles crackling with every stretch
Pulling away sweat stained clothing
Filled with a day full of dirt and grime

Just keep moving, one more step
Into the welcome heat of this shower
How the cascade penetrates and soothes
Pulling away at knots, easing bruises
Rinsing away at cuts and scrapes
Closing my eyes against the stream
Reaching out and steadying against the wall

One minute, two minutes, now ten
To just let the water hit me, soak me
Thinking of nothing, nothing at all
Dirt and blood swirl around the drain
Just like the invulnerability of my youth
Another day, another month, and year
Another hot shower restoration

The world returns and so does time
Washing, removing the deeper stains
Revealing clean skin and clean hair
Shaking it off, just one more effort
And its over except for the drip drip drip
And the towelling dry of head to toes
How my eyes just want to close

Hand against the wall once more
Slow walking to the bed, clean and dry
Blades of the ceiling fan turning slowly
Sitting on the bed naked face in my hands
Slinging back my hair in a last stretch
Falling back and staring for just a moment
At the slow steady turning of the blades

Just for a moment, closing my eyes
I'll get up in moment and find some food
In just but a moment darkness falls
And the deepest of sleeps claiming me
Gone are the cares of the world
Voices, toils, problems, dirt, solutions
Tomorrow will take care of itself

Week 7, poem 2

 

[Tzara]

Swipe Right

I first thought of cocktails
at Odd Society—I'd sample
that rye whisky

I'd been wanting to try
while you sipped
a dirty martini or G&T,

but I decided I'd rather
focus more on your eyes
than the drinks

so picked some coffee shop
near the university,
where we would both

ironically
drink nothing but tea,
try to get over our nerves,

and talk about something
other than poetry
or the weather.

Week 7: Poem 2: Total 14

 

[Ambient4190]

deeper deeper deeper

fresh sheets favorite pillow

ten

twenty

thirty

riveted to ancient stone steps

spiralling elongating widening

winter air tainted by exhaust

horns traffic street machines above

hurry hurry hurry

prenditi delle scarpe con la gomma

black patent leather

disappointment

hurry hurry hurry

silver skeleton key in cold hand

cathedral bells gloom

darkening stained glass

candles glow

shadowy kiss

eternal sleep

 

[Piscator]

Why

Why if cheddar gets sharper with age
does memory dull as my hair grows gray​

 

[cascadiabound]

Calm and wise in your youth
Seeking scientific truth
Scrambling over steep scree slopes
Opportunities matched your early hopes
North slope Alaska biologist
Ice age fossils, mammoth tusks
My red-headed paleontologist

Criss crossing the continent
for seasonal work
Outer banks Red wolf project
Appalachian small mammal study
Seabird counts on the Bering Sea
Hooting spotted owls by night
and mapping northwest habitat

Helo flights 'round Mt Rainier
just how many elk were down there?
fragile meadows now restored
dug fire breaks in Yellowstone

Seasonal posts gave you skills
Soft spoken man with a pencil
Internship became salaried
Ernest work in the bureaucracy

Salmon run to the Salish sea
Environmental complexity
the science of road ecology
that’s transportation biology

Scribbles in notebooks
You know the kind
clipboards and binders
Field guides, binoculars
High vis vest and hardhat too
Rain jackets, boots, grab your tuks
Whatever weather, you don't mind

Time ticked away as
Months became years
the century turned
And then it was decades

Overpasses, underpasses
Connecting habitat here and there
For elk and deer, wolves and bear
‘Tis a version of nirvana
For all the sexy megafauna

Conferences near and far
Papers, posters, presentations
Coordination, so much planning
ICOET came into being
It’s the ecology AND transportation
Pioneering wildlife ecology
Hours of work without apology

Eel grass beds and the ferries
Underwater functionaries
Planning work and noise reduction
Native plants and soil classification
Wetland habitat restoration
Hydrology and wetland functionality
A balance of this and that modality
Policies and classification
Critical habitat designation

On line Teams – so fatiguing
And those monthly tribal meetings
So many committees
Study groups and testimony
Task forces and expert panels
Legislative compromise
Bills to read and analyze
Every Session new frustrations
Funding sources designations

State and federal consultation
Scientific investigation
Field reviews and mitigation
Policy coordination
All that salmon litigation

Permits, process, oh the meetings
Field trips north, south east and west
Corridors and varied landscapes
Maritime, desert, plains and rainforest
Bellingham, Spokane, Vancouver, Forks
Lakes and streams and tributaries
Washington -our beautiful amazing state

Inspired so many along the way
Opportunities made and found
Networking, cross pollination
Mentoring a generation
Civil service his obligation
This quiet man who did embark
With thoughtful care has made his mark
His lifework an inspiration
Of environmental conservation

written to honor a life of work on the occasion of retirement

Week 7: Poem 1: Total 8

 

[Piscator]

Black Toonie

Personally I'm a republican
the contronym to monarchist
especially when I look at
the current cast of characters
populating paparazzi papers.

But I do like this homage
to Elizabeth, especially
when I look on E-Bay and
see that this 2$ Can toonie
sells for 5$ US.

 

[Mrtenant]

Brushstrokes

How like a Sunday afternoon
When sweet petrichor fills the air
Mellow rain against the windows
Continuous visitation of the sky
Incessant hoofbeats upon the roof
Cold and gray, meditative and fine

Within the fireplace, a merry dance
Hues of orange, red, purple, yellow
Bringing a natural warmth of light
And the last billet catches and crackles
Embers glowing underneath the ashfall
Stealing away the gloom of rainclouds

With her blanket hanging loosely
Slowly slipping down her shoulders
Pooling at her waist, legs, and feet
Resting upon her customary cushion
Firelight playing across her naked skin
Glowing as warm as could be

Her long long mass, her crowning glory
Shiny and dark, spilling through my hands
Scars and veins tickled against its softness
Gathering fistfulls in my wonder
Teasing gasps of pleasure from her lips
Finding that one thin braid she wears for me

An intimate kiss upon her crown
Masses of long hair flow through the brush
It's tines gliding through and smoothing
Length after length, brushing and grooming
Stroke after stroke, one and two and three
Pulling sweetly, pulling together and glowing

Maybe it's minutes or long hours in brushing
Her hair cascading and flowing all around
Kissing her shoulders, and back and chest
All aglow in the firelight of a dreamy day
One brushstroke, now two, then three
Her shuddering sighs, a song with the rain

Week 8, poem 1, total 13

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Week 8 P0em 13

Venus Earthbound

an octosyllabic sextilla

Venus took on a mortal form
descending through sidereal storm.
She thought to walk among mankind
upon that green and peaceful star
so pleasant-looking from afar
where Men and Women are confined.

Great Mars had begged her not to go
but he was very biased so
she kissed his cheek and turned away
to start her sojourn down below.
“I am of chaos born, you know”
was all the Goddess had to say.

With storm clouds closing in her track
ominous behind her back,
serenely swept Euronome
until her feet were on firm ground
and her stability was found
she rests beneath a shady tree.

Her journey covered many lands
from mountain tops to desert sands.
She saw white crosses row on row
each one had marked a violent death
so many that they took her breath,
but onward still she had to go.

Venus traveled far and wide
where wives had mourned and children cried.
To places where indignities
to quick and dead was much the norm,
where cruelties of every form
drew strength from human frailties.

She joined the tourists as they walked
where once the Nazi evil stalked
through Bergen-Belsen’s chilling dawn
and under Auschwitz’ lying arch
where still the Jewish spirits march
and “genocide”, the word, was born.

Venus noticed little ones
that staggered under loaded guns
in Africa; their eyes were void,
their bodies young, their faces old.
The sight had made her blood run cold,
so many with their youth destroyed.​

• Cambodia was next for her,​
• horrendous sights, a frightful blur
  of bleached, white skulls and bones heaped high.
  She wept that life had been so cheap,​
• that animosity ran deep,​
• it made the goddess Venus cry.​

In Ireland, she took pleasure in
the peace where once great strife had been
but even there the fragile truce
could shatter in a moment’s span
creating death for boy and man,
once more the dogs of war let loose.

Struggling back to Mars’ side
As she climbed the goddess cried.
Her tears were bitter, freely shed
and unashamedly she wept.
That man could never peace accept
was such a cruel path to tread.









​