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  1. Hello Everyone, I received an email from poetry forum "The Tangled Branch" inviting our members to participate there. While PMO is not affiliated with The Tangled Branch, there is a link to it in the "Other Sites" topic in our Promotions forum, and I'm aware that some PMO members may already be members there. Reproduced below is the email I received and two attachments that came with it. (Be sure to check out the attachments, one of which is a handy step-by-step guide for joining "The Tangled Branch." I'll pin this topic here in Member Poetry for the Month of April, so that members here may benefit. Afterward, I'll move this to the Other Sites topic in Promotions. Step by Step Instructions.pdf Flyer.pdf
  2. Tinker

    Sleepless in Occidental

    April 4 Sleepless in Occidental I've come to realize along with getting old comes confidence, wisdom, knowledge, and experience. I love that part of it. Unfortunately, it also brings a nightly dose of creaky joints, a thirty year old mattress, the need to pee, mushroom heat, and tingly feet. Hence, fitful sleep. Yesterday I bought a new mattress. ~~Judi Van Gorder Prompt: fitful sleep
  3. Write a poem a day for the month of April. You can add your poems to this thread, create your own thread or you can post in Member Poetry or Overflow. You are welcome to add comments to any poems you find in this thread. Happy writing! 💻 ~~Tink
  4. Tinker

    Wednesday Walk

    Today, Wednesday, April 3, 2019 is International Walking Day. I wrote this poem to open my blog today, but just incase you don't check out the Blogs, I'm also posting it here. Wednesday Walk The trail is wet from yesterday's rain. The earth soft under my Sneaks. I place one foot after another and will myself on. I will repeat this, I will honor this substance, I will write of this, I will apply this to all things, I will. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  5. Tinker

    Seder Meal

    April 18 Holy Thursday or Maundy Thursday Seder Meal In an upper room,twelve join Him for Seder meal.He washes their feetthen breaks bread and shares a cupand asks to be remembered.One will be the rockupon which a church is built.One will turn his back,choose coin over faithfulness.He will be nailed to a cross. ~~~Judi Van Gorder Notes:
  6. Tinker

    Golgotha

    Golgotha "Release the thief, nail Jesus to the cross." The crowd shouts, "Crucify Him!" Pilate washes his hands, a blameless man, Our Lord. They roared and it began, a thorny woven strand was wound upon his head, no glim of compassion for suffering, for loss. A heavy wooden beam, no one could toss, placed upon His back, straining limbs, in pain, struggling to stand, a caravan, adored. A sword is thrust and ran into his side, a brand, while spikes are hammered into skin, bone, and flesh, and Jesus nailed to the cross. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes:
  7. Tinker

    Slaughtered Lambs

    Slaughtered Lambs Easter bunnies and little lambs compliment this Holy Day, but this morning, headlines, "Hundreds Dead or Injured in Sri Lanka" mock it. Toppled Easter Lillys, a broken statue of Our Lady, littered sanctuary, earlier, a priest lay bloodied and unconscious while in the wooden pews worshipers found mangled and lifeless. A bomb blast ravaged Easter service. The sense of it makes no sense, targets of hate, religious zeal, or political upheaval, none of it good enough for the death of one lamb. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  8. Tinker

    Yellow Star

    April 19 My Good Friday offering Yellow Star Ripped from their abode, families wearing the yellow star herded into boxcars, to death they rode. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes:
  9. Weeds In My Garden Sunday, the sun made a visit, the air was washed and I spent much of the day outside, pulling weeds. I sit, I don't kneel anymore, God doesn't ask my body to be humble, just my heart, besides, there's nothing more humbling than arthritic knees and a body getting old. The weeds pulled up easily, the earth was soft, it had rained the previous three days. I filled my lungs with unblemished air, the ocean breeze cooled my skin, while sweat seeped from my pores from the Spring sun's zeal. Nature renews, I keep getting older and there are always weeds to be pulled. ~~ Judi Van Gorder
  10. Chaul Chnam Thmey South East Asia enters New Year with vision clear new creation Clean and prepare throughout nation each home station good things in store Less fortunate the lame and poor honored, cared for make feel secure Water gives life blessing future Lord Buddha nurture Khmer people ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes:
  11. Tinker

    Shifting Sands

    Shifting SandsShifting can be subtle, at first unnoticed.Shifting from the freeze to the thaw, warming sun.Shifting from grey to golden, prisms of light.Shifting from barren limbs to cherry blossoms, poetry.Shifting from dying to new life, a miracle. Seasons shift, from one to another. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, come full circleshifting over and over and over, through centuries. I'm in my winter years, would that I could,shift to Spring and on . . . . . . ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes:
  12. Tinker

    Funny Man

    Funny Man I write with sadness of the demise of a funny man. In clubs, in concert, on the small screen, he warmed hearts and made us laugh. His humor sprung from common sense and fairness. He was a beacon for education and bettering oneself. His light shone brightly for millions across the globe. But everyone has a dark side, shadows created in secret, nourished by self doubt, selfishness, lust or greed. We can reject it, we can lock it away or we can indulge it. Fueled by adulation, fame and fortune, "America's Dad" unleashed his darkness and allowed it to snuff his brilliance. I abhor the destruction in its wake, I grieve the loss. ~~Judi Van Gorder Bill Cosby found guilty of 4 counts of sexual assault. Many more still in the wind.
  13. Tinker

    Time to Write a Poem

    April is National Poetry Month Many poetry sites are encouraging writing a poem a day. This thread is my daily poems for April. Comments are welcome Please join me in creating your own thread of daily poems, it is never too late to get writing. ~~Tink
  14. Tinker

    The Box

    The Box She blinked at him as if to say "all is OK". His numbers 120 over 81 lit up in red on her chest. Standing vigilant she continues to guard ready to ping if IV drip stops or his vitals change causing nurses to scurry. One called her "the box" as she was led in a dance around the hospital room. I think "Angel" fits her better. ~~Judi Van Gorder Exercise in personification.
  15. Lectio Divina - Meditation on Sunday Reading 3rd Sunday of Easter Cycle C Feed My Sheep John 21:15-16 "Feed my sheep" "Tend my flock" Peter charged to build His church, to feed and shelter. The directive simple without exclusion, nurture and protect. Christ creates a recipe with grains of love, hope, and faith to feed his flock. His blueprint for a strong shelter built on rock foundation of truth, compassion and justice. From earlier scripture "knock and it will be opened", deems His flock inclusive. without our judgment, that's His job.
  16. Frank E Gibbard

    "POEMS" (an acrostic)

    pensive offerings expressing my sensibilities
  17. Me, the Condensed Version Judi, Judi, Judi, enthusiastic, energetic, enduring. Kids, watermelon, horses and basketball top my list of likes and I can't give or get enough love. I have a streak of Jesus freak in me but it has mellowed over the decades. Cancer and snakes creep me out, I've had a personal encounter with the first, the second is just in my head. I still dream of adventure and romance and often forget this old body can't always keep up with my teenage brain. I call the Redwood Empire my home where I can be found working or playing. I have been known to tinker with words. ~~ Judi Van Gorder
  18. Thirty Days Thirty days I’ve sat at the keyboard attempting to put my voice on paper, to write something, anything, to be heard. My shout translates to a whimper and fingers become mute while letters form unintelligible words and nonsense dribbles from my digits. Still, I continue to strike at keys unwilling to relinquish my emancipation. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  19. Tinker

    The Path #27 Poem a Day

    The Path Discordant storms erupt. The path goes dark while whipping wind and smashing rain complain and push the day to night, the blackness stark. The force of creation collects its cost and all the universe joins the cyclical flow while plunged in gloom where rants an unseen show. The earth is purged, the putrid air is washed. From recalled shadows cast above and below disjointed thoughts intrude and wander lost. Perception stumbles, blinded, spun and tossed and latent dreams turn labored, gray and low. In darkness chaos tricks the shaded brain that strains to see the dawn of nature's spark illuminate the straightened path's domain. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  20. An Empty Moment A blank page glares back at me. Silence shatters the scene. Some days are just like that. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  21. Scab You itch like a crusty sore still new enough to stick and bleed beneath. I want to scratch at the scaly husk to rid myself of you but I know, to pick only stings and opens a slippery wound. I will clip my nails, ignore the prickle, and like any scab you eventually will fall away. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  22. Warning Oh, little squirrel, please don't run in front of me. I drive way too fast and you won't last a moment more, you see. ----- ~~Judi Van Gorder
  23. Frank E Gibbard

    Running Dog (R) (NPM 17)

    Running Dog massaged his tanned body stood tepee high looked at his wiry frame reflected in a glass, caressed the cheeks of a wholly proud plains bred Native arse. Young and athletic his muscularity honed and bronzed by the sun of Oregon. Sweet oils ran down his burnished thighs in yellow rivulets drips easing inside toes of mahogany brown and weariness of recently worked feet. Running Dog was a true brave you could say, without reservation, in the whitemens' badlands today had given his stack to the contact known as "ill-eagle" for his toke, now is time for R & R, high time to make smoke. When Running Dog was dog tired his solution: peace in communion with a pipe then hit town for buffalo wings mm.. (not ashamed he loved them) for the munchies. He towels his abs dry with little dabs, eyes the waiting stash, wonders what father Sitting Dog would think knowing how he spends his cash. He liked to think that Pop would not blink nor sniff at a little spliff, imagined him there in his favourite chair blowing marijuana all around as he exclaims that since I came it's the best shit I've found ever in the Gods' hunting ground. Floor walking in their casino then pumping iron, squat-thrusts fit to bust - how he maintained his toned native appearance front of house thrilling old ladies (ooh you look so Indian!) boy did he need a smoke and we are talking a mother lode of Nature's best. He gave utter respect into this habit, was like his tribe the first greens, and cool with the planet. Brave he was indeed he still had to watch out for palefaces in blue uniforms riding around after our hides. Ha! braves making smoke America's Finest seeking scalps in the name of a so-called freedom, he hoped his ancestors might see the joke. Signalling nothing ever changes in our history except the particular cause of a panic it rearranges those deck chairs on the SS Titanic.  
  24. Synergy The power of the western wind bends the phlegmatic pines, is this a contrived collaboration? Not flames on a lake but a common duet, a process of nature, remedy for stillness. --------- --Judi Van Gorder
  25. Mac Adoo's Wings The excited stutter of simulated flight creates an explosion of moult-dust, downy under-feathers and one long, strong, brilliantly green quill plucked in agitation. The staccato flapping causes the fall-out to drift cloaking her corner of the room to be captured later by my tired Dustbuster. ---Judi Van Gorder I'm cheating, this is an old one that I want to archive here. My poem for the day are the haikus below written after reading this old poem and remembering... she barks like a dog when a stranger approaches my watch parrot ~~jvg loud barking parrot standing sentry at the gate, dogs enjoy night off ~~jvg
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