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Weekly Poem Challenge


Tinker
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On 7/22/2019 at 8:43 AM, Tinker said:

Prompt: Confinement
Verse form: Sonnet

Trapped

Confined within the hemisphere dispensed
A stroke while forming in her mother's womb.
A damaged global hub, commander's room
to signal body parts to function hence.
The intellect and empathy are held
within its mass to compliment her life
Her brain was halved as if 'twas sliced by knife.
The living side stepped up, took charge, excelled.
Born paralyzed, her arm and leg, dead fish,
unknowns, her speech, her thoughts and so much more.
But still her stubborn courage deigned to score,
she fell and failed and tried again. Her wish
to walk and talk and be like other kids
made real, her body moves just as she bids.
                                 ~~Judi Van Gorder

Bowlesian Sonnet

This is such an awesome Bolesian sonnet. I believe the rules are followed faithfully and l notice no forced rhyme. I am not sure if the " stroke" refers to a stroke of bad luck or to a medical stroke, which may have caused the brain to divide?

But she had to overcome her unasked-for state, and wondrously--- she did!

I like the Bolesian sonnet form very much as a vehicle for her unusual experience (which) motivated your poem.

 

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Thanks Liz, I like the sonnet form also.   Trapped was written in response to a prompt at another site.  I share the prompts here in hopes someone else will join me, but so far I can't get the others to come and play on the Playground, so it looks like this is my exclusive thread which it is not.   Maybe I can get you to play. 😍  The last prompt was to write a poem using the 5 senses.  The frame can be of your choosing.  I wrote a Free Verse piece, My Morning Visit.   

And, Yes she had a medical stroke while in the womb causing the left side of the brain to simply not develop.   She should be totally paralyzed on the right side, but she walks and runs and has use of her right arm.  Her right hand however will never function.  She can't even pick up a pencil. She has been in physical therapy since  she was 6 months old.  Because of the missing left side the nerves of her brain sometimes get out of whack consequently she is subject to bouts of paralyzing anxiety on occasion and had a seizure disorder most of her younger years and was on meds for that.  She hasn't been on meds for 5 years now and they think she has outgrown the seizure problem.  Now that she is going through puberty, the hormone imbalance sometimes causes debilitating migraine headaches that literally blind her.  They are not a daily or weekly occurrence and they now have a routine to follow to make it less problematic for her but it is a serious condition that we hope doesn't hit often and one she will also outgrow eventually. She was home from school today because of a migraine. They last for hours and she has to be put in a dark, quiet, cool environment until they pass.   Other than that, she is a funny, smart, kooky little girl who is loved and protected by her 3 siblings and Mom and Dad.

~~Tink
 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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On 8/20/2019 at 3:20 PM, Tinker said:

Write a poem reflecting a different persona

Those Who Dare 

Silently, slowly I slither
from my sunning place
stalking a succulent morsel
to sustain my significance.
My languid length lithe
with strength and stamina slides
without effort down a tree trunk
to seductively sap your soul.
I am as ancient as the most ancient,
cunning and capable.
I will wind and wring the wind from your lungs
then swallow you whole.
Do not dare to challenge me.
Consumer of conceit, constrictor of courage,
call me Kaa.
                                ~~Judi Van Gorder

Love this "other persona" poem. The great alliteration in  silently, slowly, slither, sunning, stalking, succulent, sustain and significance.Then, languid length lithe.  Also wind and wring the wind from your lungs (how cool!) And much more alliteration.

I love the interesting idea of " consumer of conceit"  That mankind certainly loses all ego ( conceit) when being swallowed by a python snake; the victim's courage constricted certainly.

I enjoyed your poem "Those Who Dare"

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2 hours ago, Tinker said:

Thanks Liz, I like the sonnet form also.   Trapped was written in response to a prompt at another site.  I share the prompts here in hopes someone else will join me, but so far I can't get the others to come and play on the Playground, so it looks like this is my exclusive thread which it is not.   Maybe I can get you to play. 😍  The last prompt was to write a poem using the 5 senses.  The frame can be of your choosing.  I wrote a Free Verse piece, My Morning Visit.   

And, Yes she had a medical stroke while in the womb causing the left side of the brain to simply not develop.   She should be totally paralyzed on the right side, but she walks and runs and has use of her right arm.  Her right hand however will never function.  She can't even pick up a pencil. She has been in physical therapy since  she was 6 months old.  Because of the missing left side the nerves of her brain sometimes get out of whack consequently she is subject to bouts of paralyzing anxiety on occasion and had a seizure disorder most of her younger years and was on meds for that.  She hasn't been on meds for 5 years now and they think she has outgrown the seizure problem.  Now that she is going through puberty, the hormone imbalance sometimes causes debilitating migraine headaches that literally blind her.  They are not a daily or weekly occurrence and they now have a routine to follow to make it less problematic for her but it is a serious condition that we hope doesn't hit often and one she will also outgrow eventually. She was home from school today because of a migraine. They last for hours and she has to be put in a dark, quiet, cool environment until they pass.   Other than that, she is a funny, smart, kooky little girl who is loved and protected by her 3 siblings and Mom and Dad.

~~Tink
 

I'm so sorry her condition caused so much discomfort; her seizures, and  migraine headaches. I do hope she will feel better and eventually just outgrow them!

She is a brave soul l can tell.

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12 hours ago, Liz Mastin said:

Love this "other persona" poem. The great alliteration in  silently, slowly, slither, sunning, stalking, succulent, sustain and significance.Then, languid length lithe.  Also wind and wring the wind from your lungs (how cool!) And much more alliteration.

I love the interesting idea of " consumer of conceit"  That mankind certainly loses all ego ( conceit) when being swallowed by a python snake; the victim's courage constricted certainly.

Thanks Liz,  This was a fun poem to write and I would never have thought to do it without the prompt.  I use the prompts first as a challenge to myself to step out of my comfort zone.  I also see them as exercises in writing, practice, practice, practice.  I don't expect every poem I write to be a gem but every once in a while one of these exercise poems connects. Writing, even when it is just an exercise can only make me better for when that one poem comes along that I dream of writing one day.  

Actually, I not only had fun with this one, I'm kind of proud of how it worked out. The alliteration just took on a life of its own once I got started.  Since it is in this thread, you may be the only person on this forum that has read it.  I think most of the members concentrate on reading at Member Poetry or the Overflow.  Reading everything on this site is time consuming and commenting adds more time.  We read and comment as we can.  Thank you for finding this thread and taking the time to comment. 

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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8 hours ago, Tinker said:

Thanks Liz,  This was a fun poem to write and I would never have thought to do it without the prompt.  I use the prompts first as a challenge to myself to step out of my comfort zone.  I also see them as exercises in writing, practice, practice, practice.  I don't expect every poem I write to be a gem but every once in a while one of these exercise poems connects. Writing, even when it is just an exercise can only make me better for when that one poem comes along that I dream of writing one day.  

Actually, I not only had fun with this one, I'm kind of proud of how it worked out. The alliteration just took on a life of its own once I got started.  Since it is in this thread, you may be the only person on this forum that has read it.  I think most of the members concentrate on reading at Member Poetry or the Overflow.  Reading everything on this site is time consuming and commenting adds more time.  We read and comment as we can.  Thank you for finding this thread and taking the time to comment. 

~~Tink

I had fun collecting what l thought were my best poems for my first book "Lake Dancers".

If you haven't you should self publish!  Or publish through an agent!

Edited by Liz Mastin
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Promp: Use personification in the poem.  This is probably more a poem of persona but here is what I wrote.

Unleashed

They thought they could use me
to warm their toes,
to cook their meals,
to dispose of their trash.
No longer am i their servant,
now they flee from me,
i have been unleashed
to devour all in my path.
My power is boundless
as I create my own wind
to travel wherever I please.
My beauty illuminates all around me,
my colors change from golds,
to reds and blues
as I dance in the tree tops.
I am borderless.
Hear me crackle and roar!
          ~~ Judi Van Gorder
 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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17 hours ago, Tinker said:

Promp: Use personification in the poem.  This is probably more a poem of persona but here is what I wrote.

Unleashed

They thought they could use me
to warm their toes,
to cook their meals,
to dispose of their trash.
No longer am i their servant,
now they flee from me,
i have been unleashed
to devour all in my path.
My power is boundless
as I create my own wind
to travel wherever I please.
My beauty illuminates all around me,
my colors change from golds,
to reds and blues
as I dance in the tree tops.
I am borderless.
Hear me crackle and roar!
          ~~ Judi Van Gorder
 

 

Love this poem, Judi; so clever. I esp. enjoy the colorful, enchanting clues: l dance in the tree tops. I am borderless. Yet all of the (qualities of fire) you mention are great. No longer just a servant, but a threatening master!!  Think of the fires in coastal California--they know!

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Ode to the Palm Tree (personification)

You cast your glance out over the ocean, surveying by degrees the hazy Horizon, and you seem to be watching for Sailors at sea, for this is your way, Oh tall palm tree.

When morning fades and the breeze grows bolder, you whip your fronds back over your shoulders, and like a centry who's never at ease, you stand your guard impressive palm tree.

Your cousins are vagabonds the world around, in Africa, New Zealand and Asia found, dwelling on stranded sailors at sea, it's just understood oh caring palm tree.

Non-judgmental by Nature, you Grace nation of small shopping malls and humble gas stations. But you'd rather dwell by the dangerous sea, waving ships in Oh friendly palm tree.

Your portrait is painted on parched stucco walls, domes of cathedrals and high Palace halls, from thence you reflect on Lost sailors at Sea, wishing them Speed oh loyal palm tree?

Your coconuts and dates are tasty Delights for feeding the hungry, solving their plights, but you'd rather resolve Lost sailors that you see,  back to dry land, compassionate palm tree.

Elegant tree you are so agreeable. Because you are tall you are easily seeable. A beacon to birds, explorers and whalers- always you're watching and waiting for Sailors.

And you weary seamen adrift on the blue, waiting for land to come into view, having suffered the storms of treachous Cape Horn, when you see the palm tree you know you are  home.

 

 

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14 hours ago, Liz Mastin said:

You cast your glance out over the ocean, surveying by degrees the hazy Horizon, and you seem to be watching for Sailors at sea, for this is your way, Oh tall palm tree.

Personification is giving human action or character to an inanimate object.   "You cast your glance,"  is classic personification.   I thought it interesting that you wrote this as a Prose Poem.  I liked the long, individual units.  It was easy reading.

 

14 hours ago, Liz Mastin said:

And you weary seamen adrift on the blue, waiting for land to come into view, having suffered the storms of treachous Cape Horn, when you see the palm tree you know you are  home.

I think a comma after "And you," and "seamen".    I liked the internal rhyme.   You have a typo,  "treacherous" is missing a couple of letters.

I love that you are willing to come here and play and it produced a very nice poem.   

~~Tink

 

 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Thank you so much Tink. It really is an "Ode to the Palm Tree" It's not a new poem, l'm afraid, but l knew it made use of personification. It was written under a very tall palm tree in Playa del Carmen, as l thought about my elderly poetry mentor who was crusing around Cape Horn. 

Tink, what exactly is the " quote" section meant for? Am l replying to you at the right location?

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On 11/1/2019 at 2:02 PM, Liz Mastin said:

Tink, what exactly is the " quote" section meant for? Am l replying to you at the right location?

Highlight what you want to respond to and hit quote and it shows up in your reply.

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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  • 2 weeks later...

Today, Monday November 11, 2019  is Veteran's Day in the US.  Write a poem to honor our vets.

Hidden Away

In the shadows of mind,
    hidden and locked away,
are visions of dead eyes
    and bloodied bodies,
sounds that scream pain,
     vibrate with thunder,
putrid odors of piss
     and vomit and death,
metallic taste mixed
      with dessert dust,
the trickle of sticky sweat  
      under Kevlar in 115o heat
and the twitch in the pit
      of your stomach
            from ending a life.

That part of you,
      you do not share,
you look and sound just like us,
   
But we know, you are our shield
     and Thank You is not enough.
               ~~Judi Van Gorder

Occasional Poetry
 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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5 hours ago, Tinker said:

Today, Monday November 11, 2019  is Veteran's Day in the US.  Write a poem to honor our vets.

Hidden Away

In the shadows of mind,
    hidden and locked away,
are visions of dead eyes
    and bloodied bodies,
sounds that scream pain,
     vibrate with thunder,
putrid odors of piss
     and vomit and death,
metallic taste mixed
      with dessert dust,
the trickle of sticky sweat  
      under Kevlar in 115o heat
and the twitch in the pit
      of your stomach
            from ending a life.

That part of you,
      you do not share,
you look and sound just like us,
   
But we know, you are our shield
     and Thank You is not enough.
               ~~Judi Van Gorder

Occasional Poetry
 

That is beautiful Judi! so graphic that the reader experiences what the amazingly normal-seeming gentleman experienced, plus the added horror of (him) having ended a life.

Yes, it is thanks to those serving as our shields,  that "we" can feel safe.

A fine poem.

 

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5 hours ago, Tinker said:

Thanks Liz,  I'm the wife of a Korean War vet and sister of a Viet Nam vet.    I thought of bits and pieces I've dug out of each of them over the years.  

~~Judi 

Am l responding in the right place Judi? ( Quote) Still uncertain.

Well, you really have had an on-going close-up experience with war vets!! A big thanks to all three of these very important men in your life!

Happy Veterans Day!

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Yes, this thread is wide open, I love that I'm not the only one posting here.  Hopefully, you will pick up on a prompt once in a while and contribute a poem here too.  No one expects daily poems to be perfect.  They are more posted practice but every once in a while they turn into poems that become keepers.

~~Judi

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Today  let your imagination explode into a cataclysm of color. Write using color as focus or inspiration.  Use colors that impress you, either favorably or unfavorably. Since this is a creativity workshop, give your imagination free rein to interpret “color” either literally (red, blue, hot pink) or figuratively (the color of pain, joy, anger).

Here is a poem just posted by Dr_Con that I think is an example what this prompt aspires to.  Gate(less)
Or an older more simplistic use of color in a poem Awe

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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19 hours ago, Tinker said:

Today  let your imagination explode into a cataclysm of color. Write using color as focus or inspiration.  Use colors that impress you, either favorably or unfavorably. Since this is a creativity workshop, give your imagination free rein to interpret “color” either literally (red, blue, hot pink) or figuratively (the color of pain, joy, anger).

Here is a poem just posted by Dr_Con that I think is an example what this prompt aspires to.  Gate(less)
Or an older more simplistic use of color in a poem Awe

Green Bug triolet

Joy of Joy's! A little green bug

Is content in the shape of a grain of rice.

At my heart it firmly tugs,

This amiable creation, this genial bug.

To him l give a mental hug!

Amazing how nature so freely supplied

This joy of Joy's! A little green bug

Content in the shape of a grain of rice.

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3 hours ago, Liz Mastin said:

Green Bug Triolet

Joy of Joy's! A little green bug
Is content in the shape of a grain of rice.
At my heart it firmly tugs,
This amiable creation, this genial bug.
To him l give a mental hug!
Amazing how nature so freely supplied
This joy of Joy's! A little green bug
Content in the shape of a grain of rice.

Today's delight,
little green bugs
with Triolet hugs.
       ~~Judi 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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23 hours ago, Tinker said:

Today  let your imagination explode into a cataclysm of color.

Deeper

Ripples on the surface
spark reflections of golds
and blues and indigo
with dazzling allure.
Vibrant colors
siren the unsuspecting
to the deep
where calmer, cooler,
darker waters wait
and will tell no secrets.
             ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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I guess I should change the title of this thread to A Weekly Poetry Challenge since I only post here about once a week.  

Today's challenge is to write a poem showing an emotional reaction to some event that seems to be about something else.

Something like this old one Scab

Or something I attempted today.


St John's Wort

There is a pariah
that must be dispelled
or at least controlled.
It shows up unwelcome
each year
and flourishes in fertile fields,
previously tilled and prepped
in deliberate design
for finer stuff.
The repetition
of malaise
encountered with its return
freezes action.
My inner sloth
glories in its monotony.
I must pound down
its hold on me,
put on my boots
and take up the battle
one more time.
         ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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22 hours ago, Tinker said:

I guess I should change the title of this thread to A Weekly Poetry Challenge since I only post here about once a week.  

Today's challenge is to write a poem showing an emotional reaction to some event that seems to be about something else.

Something like this old one Scab

Or something I attempted today.


St John's Wort

There is a pariah
that must be dispelled
or at least controlled.
It shows up unwelcome
each year
and flourishes in fertile fields,
previously tilled and prepped
in deliberate design
for finer stuff.
The repetition
of malaise
encountered with its return
freezes action.
My inner sloth
glories in its monotony.
I must pound down
its hold on me,
put on my boots
and take up the battle
one more time.
         ~~Judi Van Gorder

     I enjoyed this poem, it's negative  meaning "at first" but then unexpectedly altering into an apparent reason for rejoicing "for the routine of nature" requiring yearly remediation.

Even the pulling on of boots for the toil being reason for happiness!

Have l understood this right?

(did l post this reply in the correct place Tink?)

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Yes and yes you did respond in the correct place and you got the message.  Plus it is a metaphor for the cyclical in everything we encounter.  What ever returns to block the way. 

~~Tink

And thank you for reading and responding here at the Playground.   Sometimes I think I'm whistling in the wind.
 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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1 hour ago, Tinker said:

Yes and yes you did respond in the correct place and you got the message.  Plus it is a metaphor for the cyclical in everything we encounter.  What ever returns to block the way. 

~~Tink

And thank you for reading and responding here at the Playground.   Sometimes I think I'm whistling in the wind.
 

In your poem, it's kind of like when "life" knocks you down, you pull yourself back up and start again? Or as when something considered to be  bad "pariahs" come visiting, it's best to remedy the situation in a direct, positive way, as something unpleasant will always reocurr occasionally, so best to fix the problem and then move on!

Thank you Tink. Now l know "Quote" is for replies and "Reply to this topic" is for posting a new poem on the chosen topic.

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"Message on the Door"

 

While driving by a mission

That serves the urban poor,

I saw a painted sign

Hanging on the door.

 

To me it was amusing,

Yet it conveyed the message well:

A message of compassion,

A poet's priviledge to reveal.

 

For God so loves the homeless,

And the poor He won't ignore:

"Beans, rice, and Jesus Christ!"

Read the message on the door.

 

 

 

3 hours ago, Tinker said:

Yes and yes you did respond in the correct place and you got the message.  Plus it is a metaphor for the cyclical in everything we encounter.  What ever returns to block the way. 

~~Tink

And thank you for reading and responding here at the Playground.   Sometimes I think I'm whistling in the wind.
 

 

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28 minutes ago, Liz Mastin said:

"Message on the Door"

While driving by a mission
That serves the urban poor,
I saw a painted sign
Hanging on the door.

To me it was amusing,
Yet it conveyed the message well:
A message of compassion,
A poet's privilege to reveal.

For God so loves the homeless,
And the poor He won't ignore:
"Beans, rice, and Jesus Christ!"
Read the message on the door.

Nice Liz,  Love the sign!  Beans, rice and Jesus Christ!  is a very cool motto.  This poem put a smile on my face.  Nice rhyme, nice rhythm, you misspelled privilege.   By the way to tighten up your lines, at the end of the line hold down shift and then enter.  The next line will appear directly below without a double space.

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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51 minutes ago, Tinker said:

Nice Liz,  Love the sign!  Beans, rice and Jesus Christ!  is a very cool motto.  This poem put a smile on my face.  Nice rhyme, nice rhythm, you misspelled privilege.   By the way to tighten up your lines, at the end of the line hold down shift and then enter.  The next line will appear directly below without a double space.

I'm so glad you like it. Tink, l looked up the word privilege and l think l actually did (amazingly) spell it correctly?

It is a true story; the sign was on the door of a mission in Spokane, Wash.

My computer is finally kaput, so l am having to do this on my cell phone for awhile, but I'll try your suggestion when l finally have my new computer at Christmas.

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37 minutes ago, Liz Mastin said:

l looked up the word privilege and l think l actually did (amazingly) spell it correctly?

I corrected the spelling in the quote section.   Look at your original post, you spelled it priviledge.

 

38 minutes ago, Liz Mastin said:

My computer is finally kaput, so l am having to do this on my cell phone for awhile, but I'll try your suggestion when l finally have my new computer at Christmas.

Sorry about that.  I hope Santa is good to you.  

~~Tink 

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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  • 2 weeks later...

This week, consider making time to glue yourself to your seat and let your imagination take you for a ride.

The Air Outside

No problem
gluing myself to my seat
this yucky morning.

The soggy air
outside
soaks into my soul
and grounds
my mind.

But here
in my desk chair cockpit,
I snap
on my seatbelt
and let my fingers fly.

It doesn't matter
where they take me,
from this vantage point
the world
is mine.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

Well you gotta start somewhere. ~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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3 hours ago, Tinker said:

This week, consider making time to glue yourself to your seat and let your imagination take you for a ride.

The Air Outside

No problem
gluing myself to my seat
this yucky morning.

The soggy air
outside
soaks into my soul
and grounds
my mind.

But here
in my desk chair cockpit,
I snap
on my seatbelt
and let my fingers fly.

It doesn't matter
where they take me,
from this vantage point
the world
is mine.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

Well you gotta start somewhere. ~~Tink

Yes, your poem speaks of the dark winter months. And how they can impede, but-- when writing poetry-- you can fly! Put on the seatbelt, and go!

 I know the marvelous benefits of sunshine, as it has been dark and raining in the desert (and cold!) But then, today, the glorious sun came out and l am inclined to write a poem called "Oh my God! The Sun!", listing it's healing attributes.

I am sitting out right now and the Mojave Desert enjoys it too.

 

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31 minutes ago, Liz Mastin said:

Yes, your poem speaks of the dark winter months. And how they can impede, but-- when writing poetry-- you can fly! Put on the seatbelt, and go!

Liz,  How great to hear your voice.  I'm glad you are enjoying the sun. I wish I was but it is warm inside and I was able to write something so I'm happy.   I hope you get your new computer soon, I've missed you.

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Fleeting Adventure

 

She flies like a bird!

Oh, what a sight!

Sailing the skies

In an ultralight;

Her fisted arms

Outstretched with zeal,

Young Mexican pilot

At the wheel.

 

Down the coast

And over the sea

They zoom

Like a little bumblebee!

I wonder if they

Will ever survive,

And beg  "Dear God

Just keep them alive!"

 

When they return

At set of sun,

I ask my daughter,

"Now, was that fun?

"Oh, it was cool"

She offered me:

The flight "already"

A memory.

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Liz,  Your Fleeting Adventure was fun.  I like the short lined rhyme, it added to the joyful tone. 

I have spent several Christmas days on a beach in Baja. One year Santa buzzed our beach in an ultra light. The campers all pooled their resources and there was a huge communal feast.  My friend Maggie from Canada and I had motor homes, while the rest of the residents of the beach were mostly in tents or palapas, so it was up to Maggie and I to prepare the pies and turkeys in our ovens.    My husband and son put Christmas lights on our dingy and along with other small boats trolled the beach with a boom box playing Christmas music. It was a long time ago when my son was still in school, he is now a father of 4.  We later graduated from the motor home to a sail boat, then a trawler where my husband still spends a lot of time. I have long since abandoned Mexico.  But the camping days were fun times.

14 hours ago, Liz Mastin said:

The flight "already"

A memory.

Yes, but a memory of joy.  Nice.

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Something a little different:  Write a poem which includes these words: 

Words to use: compass embark bleak lavender passage melody lantern siren 

They can be in any order, or any form of the word.


In the Spirit of William Carlos Williams

bleak
naked trees
wait white falling snow

near-bye I embark
into lantern-lit
passageways

pine scents
replace lavender
and honey

familiar Carols
siren
the coming of Christmas

the melodies provide
a compass
to a warm hearth
and holiday cheer
          ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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On 12/7/2019 at 3:03 PM, Tinker said:

Something a little different:  Write a poem which includes these words: 

Words to use: compass embark bleak lavender passage melody lantern siren 

They can be in any order, or any form of the word.


In the Spirit of William Carlos Williams

bleak
naked trees
wait white falling snow

near-bye I embark
into lantern-lit
passageways

pine scents
replace lavender
and honey

familiar Carols
siren
the coming of Christmas

the melodies provide
a compass
to a warm hearth
and holiday cheer
          ~~Judi Van Gorder

I enjoyed your poem very much, in it's simple words  (along the line of William Carlos William's "Red Wheel barrow")

The summer's lavendar and honey, replaced by the scent of pine! I can smell the fragrance of Christmas in your poem,  and enjoy the all-encompassing carols.

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On ‎12‎/‎11‎/‎2019 at 9:22 AM, Liz Mastin said:

I enjoyed your poem very much, in it's simple words  (along the line of William Carlos William's "Red Wheel barrow")

Thanks Liz.   Once upon a time, I did not get the simplicity and focus of WCW, but have since learned to love it.

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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15 hours ago, Tinker said:

Thanks Liz.   Once upon a time, I did not get the simplicity and focus of WCW, but have since learned to love it.

~~Tink

I think it is a Buddhist approach, perhaps; a way of appreciating the bare elements; finding "peace" in them too?

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Write about a pet peeve:

 

My Dog Ate My Homework

Buzzing in my ears like angry bees,
"She made me do it",
"he punched me first".
"But it wasn't my fault,
so waive my deductible."
"Witch hunt!",
"my call was perfect".
Own it, nothing is perfect!
                ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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  • 4 weeks later...
Fur Play

Kitty under my chin,
let's begin, we'll have fun.
She snuggles and I purr
then rub her belly fur.
At that, the game is on
and I become her pawn.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder


 

The Prompt

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

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inspired me to post  one of  my cat poems   buddha cat from Edsel Road.  the rest are on my blog page Https://theworldaccordingtocosomos.com 

this one has been published.

 

Buddha Cat of Edsall  Road - 

 

I had another encounter 

With the divine recently

Another Cosmic cat perhaps

 

Perhaps not

 who knows what cats are

are they aliens from another dimension

or was he channeling God ?

 

I call him the Buddha cat

For the cat loves 

Sitting in a meditative pose

Not moving

 

Just starting at me

With his soulful deep eyes

 

Boring into my soul 

exploring all my secret thoughts

 

the buddha cat

does not move

does not react

 

as he is so deep 

into his interior mediation

truly in tune 

with the cat universe 

and the cosmos as well

 

the buddha cat

seems to be 

one with God

one with Buddha

One with Allah

 

And all the other

Billion names of God 

Known and unknown

 

The buddha cat

Can teach us all

About the art of meditation

 

As he zones inward

And loses his soul

 

Joining the cosmos

And becoming 

The buddha cat 

 

The buddha cat 

Lives in a modest

Town house 

In a modest suburb

 

Proving yet again

The divine spirit of God

Is everywhere all around us 

 

The buddha cat

Reminds us all

To look for god

In the everyday

 

All around us

If we but have eyes

To see 

 

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12 hours ago, Tinker said:
Fur Play

Kitty under my chin,
let's begin, we'll have fun.
She snuggles and I purr
then rub her belly fur.
At that, the game is on
and I become her pawn.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder


 

The Prompt


The prompt is the form, the topic can be anything you like.

Write one or more six-line-stanzas (sestets).

Each line must have six syllables and the following end-rhyme pattern: (I added cross rhyme to L1 & L2}
x x b x x a
x x a x x b
x x x x x c
x x x x x c
x x x x x d
x x x x x d

Hi Judi, nice light hearted poem! I like the off rhyme in the first couplet (of this lovely sestet!!)

Or the cross rhyme!! ( internal rhyme?)

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Thanks Liz, it was just a silly little piece to comply with a Pop Up challenge at another site.
 

38 minutes ago, Liz Mastin said:

Or the cross rhyme!! ( internal rhyme?)

It is cross rhyme when the end syllable rhymes with an internal syllable in the line right before or right after. X.   Internal rhyme is rhyming within the same line.  Not that it really matters. 

~~Judi

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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1 hour ago, Tinker said:

Thanks Liz, it was just a silly little piece to comply with a Pop Up challenge at another site.
 

It is cross rhyme when the end syllable rhymes with an internal syllable in the line right before or right after. X.   Internal rhyme is rhyming within the same line.  Not that it really matters. 

~~Judi

No, that is interesting! I always, "always" enjoy learning more.

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7 hours ago, jakecaller said:

inspired me to post  one of  my cat poems   buddha cat from Edsel Road.  the rest are on my blog page Https://theworldaccordingtocosomos.com 

this one has been published.

 

Buddha Cat of Edsall  Road - 

 

I had another encounter 

With the divine recently

Another Cosmic cat perhaps

 

Perhaps not

 who knows what cats are

are they aliens from another dimension

or was he channeling God ?

 

I call him the Buddha cat

For the cat loves 

Sitting in a meditative pose

Not moving

 

Just starting at me

With his soulful deep eyes

 

Boring into my soul 

exploring all my secret thoughts

 

the buddha cat

does not move

does not react

 

as he is so deep 

into his interior mediation

truly in tune 

with the cat universe 

and the cosmos as well

 

the buddha cat

seems to be 

one with God

one with Buddha

One with Allah

 

And all the other

Billion names of God 

Known and unknown

 

The buddha cat

Can teach us all

About the art of meditation

 

As he zones inward

And loses his soul

 

Joining the cosmos

And becoming 

The buddha cat 

 

The buddha cat 

Lives in a modest

Town house 

In a modest suburb

 

Proving yet again

The divine spirit of God

Is everywhere all around us 

 

The buddha cat

Reminds us all

To look for god

In the everyday

 

All around us

If we but have eyes

To see 

 

I enjoyed this poem; a reminder to relax, contemplate just like Budhha Cat. Animals, esp. cats don't worry about the workings of the world, they say "thanks" for my comfortable, contemplative inner world and your poem celebrates this Buddha life.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Prompt: Write a poem using some type of figurative language, metaphor, simile, allegory, allusion, symbolism.....

Deputy

A fixed brick wall,
solid, cool and tall.
Some say, a hard man,
uncompromising enforcer
for peace and justice,
stoic and strong.

When things go wrong,
he hides his tears
and buries his fears,
but I can hear the strained
beat of his injured heart
behind the barricade.
                    ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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  • 1 month later...



In the Cold

Grey echoes
of frozen time shiver
in the dim density
of barren hope
tangled
in the frosted limbs
of a crowded world
waiting for the thaw.
         ~~Judi Van Gorder

 

 

Photo by Bob Turn @ Writing.com
Winter in Millcreek Canyon, SLC, Utah


 
trans.gifWinter in Millcreek Canyon, SLC, Utah

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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  • 2 weeks later...

Write about a childhood memory.

Two Lives, Not One

Carole and I
         made paper dolls
from catalog models.
We'd cut them out
         then trace over the top
designing dresses.

We'd spend days together
         tracing, drawing,
creating our own fashion world.
         collaborating, giggling, sharing.
Colors and lines,
         flare and panache.

Then Carole got sick
         a week went by.
When she was well
she brought a bunch
         of sketches
she had done on her own.

How could she?
         Without me?
How did she?
         Without me.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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On 3/8/2020 at 4:10 PM, Tinker said:

Write about a childhood memory.

Two Lives, Not One

Carole and I
         made paper dolls
from catalog models.
We'd cut them out
         then trace over the top
designing dresses.

We'd spend days together
         tracing, drawing,
creating our own fashion world.
         collaborating, giggling, sharing.
Colors and lines,
         flare and panache.

Then Carole got sick
         a week went by.
When she was well
she brought a bunch
         of sketches
she had done on her own.

How could she?
         Without me?
How did she?
         Without me.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

Moments in our lives that we remember!!

I enjoyed your poignant poem: this unsettling event in your childhood. The (seeming) almost betrayal -- of your paper doll friendship!  It must have been hurtful indeed! You haven't forgotten it.

I enjoyed your measured way leading to the surprise last stanza.

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