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Tinker

Daily Poem Challenge

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Posted (edited)

On short notice Tinker

A Case of Puppy Love

She was a beauty of her kind
And he adored her so
The shear madness of it all
Was consuming him from head to toe

He thought he would buy her a gift
Then realized to his dispair
He had no money at all
In his pockets anywhere

He could pawn his antique watch
But dismay crept ‘ore his face
Both big hand and little hand
Were gone with out a trace.

Walking the path to her house
Surrounded by rows of hedge
He came to upon a rippling stream
Then stood there at its edge

“I have a bit of a problem
I have to give it some thought
Would she like me just for me
Though a gift I had not brought?" 

A decision he quickly made
He turned about and headed home 
He'd find buddies to play baseball
Deciding today he would not roam

YarnSpinner
copyright 3-28-2018

 

Edited by YarnSpinner
? mark punctuation added.

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Yarnspinner,  This is so good, you haven't lost your touch.  The prompts are meant to be done in 24 hours.  I am getting the prompts from a Daily Poem challenge.  

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Prompt for March 31, Write a poem of any form, about a bunny, a chick or a lamb or all of them.

Three Limerick, a chick, a lamb and a bunny

There once was a chick called Harry,
he was born in the barn of a dairy.
He played with the cows
and took lots of bows,
making Bossie and Bess both merry.

There once was a shepherd's daughter,
who had a lamb that her daddy bought her.
She called him her Sweet;
danced jigs when he bleat,
and laughed when he splashed in the water.

There once was a cute little bunny,
whose nature was playful and sunny.
He hopped all around;
jumped the creek in one bound,
and thought wiggling his nose was so funny.
                    ~~ Judi Van Gorder

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Your assignment: Write a poem about some recent event using specific, but fictional, details of texture, color, scent, shape, and flavor to make your narrative come to life, as Robert Frost did in his poem After Apple-Pickinghttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173523

Outside the VA Clinic

Mostly men in somber colors
cluster along covered walkway,
sitting or standing near the white
benches that line one side

The absence of cigarette smoke
drifting from the green "smoking area"
allows the scent of roses
that grow groomed on the other side
to dominate the Spring air.

The sound of occasional laughter,
a cough and bass voices drawl
in conversation.

A jacketed, sad eyed PTSD Dog
hugs the leg
of his young master
whose hand absently strokes a silky ear.

The savory, sweet taste of comaraderie
is extended to each newcomer
in a nod, a hand, or a word.
Brothers born of war.

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For April 6, Prompt write a poem about a cat or a dog.

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For April 8, write a poem about something you thought was bad for you and you found out it was actually good for you.

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Can't help it Tinker:

Written many years ago.

Bless You
Cat crouched
Mouse sneezed
Cat pounced
Appetite pleased.


It’s Gone
Our cat’s on the table by the gold fish bowl,
Looking unconcerned as can be.
How can he look so angelic I wonder. . .
There’s no fish in the bowl...I can see.
YarnSpinner

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3 hours ago, Tinker said:

For April 8, write a poem about something you thought was bad for you and you found out it was actually good for you.

it's too long for here Tinker:

see White Powder Sugar in Memory Poetry (Overflow)

YarnSpinner

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On 1/6/2018 at 4:20 PM, Tinker said:

For January 7, 2019 Write a poem inspired by this Edgar Allen Poe quote:  "They, who dream by day, are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night.".

There is some truth to Edgar Allen Poe's statement. However It might be said, and he did not mention...there are a writers who have trained themselves to waken during these moments of dreaming at night, and jot down highlights of said dreams in order to recall them the following day, There are times I still do that. Pen and post ems by the bedside. Make note though...even though these thoughts come to you while dreaming, the brain also says is it noteworthy? If not sleep on .

YarnSpinner

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On 1/19/2018 at 10:21 PM, Tinker said:

Prompt for January 20, write a poem prompted by "running out of water". 

I should say my timing is too late, but instead, I'll just say the bus has already come and gone. I'll just catch the next one, it's going in the same direction.

Many readers will consider this poem the work of a Prophet Of Doom; Humorless Cynic, or Pessimist.

Well, they could be right. It should be noted, there are alarmists, warning the World of misuse of our natural resources.

We could be headed into an abyss, that we may never recover from?

Not Recyclable, No deposit, No return 

From outer space, came one and all,
To study a planet near a sun named Sol.
To learn of mishap and despair,
How a planet died, from lack of care.

Its atmosphere is dismal and black.
Nothing now could change it back.
Thousand of years still drifting down,
Pollution settles onto lifeless ground.

Deep beneath its soil below,
Water lays silent, no place to go.
It became corrupt...multitudes were cursed.
Filters were useless, they perished from thirst,

It must have been a dreadful fear...
Alarming, yet they seemed not to hear.
Many things they could have done,
Yet chose instead, to do little or none

Earth was once a beautiful place,
Populated by the Human Race
They ravaged it; gave nothing in return,
Their planet changed, scorched, then burned

Visitors grieve this place called Earth.
It lacks essence of happiness or mirth.
Forever it will remain for all to see,
Waste and greed has a harsh penalty.

Yarnspinner
 

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On 1/30/2018 at 10:59 AM, Tinker said:

Promp for January 31 is to write a poem from different person's point of view.  Write a Mask or Persona poem.   

One example would be Spoon River Verse, a subgenre of Persona Poem.  In Spoon River, the character speaks from the grave.

Another example would be Zimbabwe Child. I created this child in 2011 after reading a book about the devastation of Zimbabwe under the rule of Robert Mugabe. I was so moved I did a lot of research, actually donated to help a school for girls there and I have continued to follow events as they are reported. Recently (November 2017) I read that Mugabe finally resigned at the age of 93 and is now under military arrest. My first thought was, I wonder if "he" (the imaginary Zimbabwe child of my poem). :wub:

See "Whatzit"

YarnSpinner

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Prompt for April 9, my birthday.   Write an occasional poem for someone's birthday.     :wub:

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Yarnspinner, I think you need to post Not Recyclable in Member Poetry.  I'm probably the only one who comes here to this thread.  It should get more exposure.

~~Tink

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Prompt for April 10:   For today’s prompt, write a poem which includes every letter of the alphabet at least once.  Bold the letters at least once.  Any form, any genre. No minimum line count.
 

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Prompt April 23  Write on any subject framed by the invented verse form, Con-Verse

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I think writing a poem a day for April kind of pooped me out and I took a little break, plus my husband is back home from the hospital after a month and I have to readjust to care giving again.  So here is a challenge for May 14.

  1.  write a poem using these words   hummingbird, lilacs, poppies, echo, breeze, lace, picnic, field
  2. Words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.


  

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Prompt for May 19 : In celebration of the Royal Wedding tomorrow, write a poem in the Romance genre.

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Prompt for May 27   Write a poem inspired by an antique, use any form.

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Prompt for June 3 -  Write a story or poem about the time you went fishing but caught something that was definitely NOT a fish.

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Boy, I've been slacking here.   Prompt for June 17  write a poem in any verse form inspired by this photo:sea shells.jpg

 

Low Tide

white foam on the tide
scallop shells litter the sand
a red starfish marks our spot

a morning beach stroll
seeking shells along the way
we met right here at low tide
                  ~~Judi Van Gorder

Sedoka

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Prompt for June 18,  Write list of pet peeves, Write poem as if you were sent to hell which  pet peeve would you dread most? 

Here is my response to this prompt.
Pet peeves

         disrespect
         complacency
         cell phones in the theater
         whiners
         people unwilling to learn more
         drivers who cut in and out of traffic
         spinners, those who won't answer a direct question with direct answer. Answer the damn question as asked
         people who say one thing then do another. Do what you say you are going to do

What torment would I dread most?
What does complacency look like?
What does disrespect sound like?
Abstract to concrete?

In hell would any of those peeves bother me one little bit?
How do I envision what hell would be like?

Gone to Hell       {rewrite)

In the wasteland of chaos,
a cacophony
of clanging cries,
barking dogs,
and banshee screeches,
deafen me.

Flashing
strobe lights confuse,
redirect my thoughts
and I cannot grasp
or hold
a single concept.

My mind, tangled
in an anchor chain of broken
promises, struggles
to break the surface of clarity
I am separated
from the Creator within.

The endlessness
of this place makes petty peeves
only pesky
flies at a family barbeque.
How I long to return there now!
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

Gone to Hell    (Original)  

Peace and freedom I seek in a waste land of chaos
dragging heavy chains pulling me down
onto the hot surface of hard cracked ground
The cacophony is deafening,
shackles scrape my hot flesh
wait, do I have flesh?
I have only my mind
my body was left behind.
Wandering strobe lights
confuse and redirect thoughts.
My essence floats unfocused,
burdened with the need to flee.
 

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Prompt for June 19, is it hot where you live?  Write poem about living without Air Conditioning in a heat wave, what would you do?

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Prompt for June 20 write a 10 - 20 line poem about some seasonal scene focusing on literal or figurative imagery.

Parole

The cool showers of Spring
give way to shimmering waves
                                of Summer’s heat.
Burgeoning buds of Apri
are in full bloom by June.
The riot of pinks, yellows and purple
                   declare, “Summer is here”

How I used to count the minutes
until the last school bell would ring
and I was free to chase
                                           butterflies
or with a splash, dive
                              into a sparkling blue lake.

No more morning alarm
                      clanging in my ear
or the drone
         of Mr. Andover’s voice
explaining some math equation.
Only brilliant sunny days
         and warm romantic nights
My parole couldn’t come soon enough.
                                  ~~Judi Van Gorder

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Prompt for 6-22-18 write a poem about a trip on the closest interstate.

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