day 29. “free for all”/Our Lost Jungle

Khara: What’s an idea that’s been nagging at you, sticking in your brain for a while, and that you’ve just never had the time or courage to bring to life? Today … go for it.

“He prayed as he breathed, forming no words and making no specific request, only holding in his heart, like broken birds in cupped hands, all those people who were in stress or grief.” – Madelyn L’Engle in Two-Part Invention quoting Ellis Peters’ A Morbid Taste for Bones.

Lord, I come as a bird with broken wings,
not able to soar in joy and freedom,
not sure of what I once held sure.

Where came these doubts assailing me

on all sides and underneath
the once sure foundation of Christianity?

I lay awake into the night and beg a crumb,

like a dog scavenging under the table.
Mongrel,  starving for a morsel of truth.

The church promises certainty. How can that be,

when material and spiritual reside in
different dimensions of space and time?

It seems the best I can muster is

a holy hope of faith you require  

of flesh and blood and bone.

Again I ask “Do you understand

how hard it is, how much you ask
of me to simply believe?

In the midst of trees and stones,

toil and bills and pull of gravity
you introduce rapture, heaven, life after death

all things I have never seen

yet, every cell, the very DNA of me
l o n g s to believe it, you…  in you.

Jesus, cup me in your hands, your heart,

I make no special request of you
only hold me tight and never let me go.  

Shadowland

www.themafelix.com


AND NOW FOR YOUR CHALLENGE--http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2014/08/poems-in-progress.html
When posting your poem in progress, leave very specific instructions about where you are stuck, and let us know what you want feedback on.  Maybe even why you stopped writing or what you don’t like about what you have so far.


This is a work in progress -
I fell in love with this picture but don't know where I want to go with it. Maybe it isn't meant to be a poem but a story. ANY feed back is welcome...
 

She dreamed each night of a shadow land

a world of misty white and grey
with only a shadow of whispery sound
of shadow deer and a shadow owl a fingertip away
where she was all alone.
 
By day she walked on busy streets,
out of step with those around
   

 

day 22. Hilarious/Our Lost Jungle

This is the link to day 22.

http://georgeplace2.blogspot.com/2013/02/monologue.html

day 28. thrive/Our Lost Jungle

I strung letters together, high

strung and low key
I arranged them until
they became words
of a feather and held together
with beauty and meaning.
  

         *********

From nebulous conception

to agonizing birth

I pushed each word, I pushed
until it crowned, labored more,
then it arrived,
a bouncy poem.  
It cried with a lusty
voice and thrived.  
 

 

Challenges Galore!

Coming up to the end of the 30X30 challenge over at Our Lost Jungle. I have had such a good experience with this. It has stretched me as a poet and, thanks to Khara's great prompts, enlarged my body of work. Sometimes, I would look at a prompt and think, "I can't do that one" but, I always came up with something. I have lots of work now to go back to and tweak here and there to make it better or even to push me to some other direction in a new poem.

July is going to be crazy. Poetic Bloomings is doing a beach themed challenge and I am also committing to a 30 day blog challenge at  Liv, Laugh, Love. I have found I work best this way -
someone challenging me, encouraging me and doing half the thinking for me with a good prompt.

One of the very best parts of this past month's challenge is that I've met some wonderful writers, artists and poets. I've seen beautiful photography, read thought provoking blogs, read some amazing poetry and been so happy to find kind comments on my own poetry blog.

So, July bring it on! 

day 27. “let me fix you”/Our Lost Jungle

Well, hey little darlin’, granny said as she hugged
her close. I’m so glad to see you and she tugged
the frail girl into the cozy room. We’ll have us a yak.
The girl’s eyes were bright with tears held back.
Granny shuffled toward the kitchen -I was just fix-in to make me some tea,
how does peppermint sound? Or maybe Earl Grey would be
more to your likin’. The girl, with a small smile said, Earl Grey.

Now you tell me what’s wrong, little girl – yes, there is, you tell

granny all about it. She did, as tears of frustration fell
granny patted  her hand and listened silently through
to the end. Oh, darlin’, she said, I wish I could fix it for you
but I can’t.  I’ve had my share of trouble and quite a lot
was my own makin’, she chuckled.  I can’t tell you to do what you aught.
But this is my advice, forget yesterday, plan for tomorrow and enjoy today.

 

Divorce

Caught
in the
middle of
one’s pain. one’s deceit.
Bitterness, regret
and animosity
sharp as a samurai’s sword.
I watch a marriage fall apart.
Recrimination weaves a rope with
strands of ‘he said, she said, he did, she did,’
then hangs holy vows by the neck 'til dead.
Once they both stood before an altar
made promises they meant to keep.
One... full of good intentions,
the other simply... weak.
What once was joined
by man and
God now
split.

day 26. sweet/Our Lost Jungle

        Addiction

Pull it or cap it.
Brace it or face it.
Nothing seems to work.
Tell me which it is.
I feel like a jerk!

Don’t care which it is,

simple or complex,
refined or uncouth.
I always give in
to this darn sweet tooth.

day 25. mellow yellow/Our Lost Jungle - Sedoka

      Mellow Yellow

Tense, harried, hurried 

to the garden I escape
and feel calmed, serene, mellow

Yellow butterflies
flit from sundrops to ox-eye
in a mellow yellow feast

 

 

day 24. “i made a mistake”/Our Lost Jungle

                                                Even Pencils have Erasers

I am human, therefore, fallible. Not only am I capable of mistakes, I make mistakes, I made mistakes, I will make more mistakes. It isn’t reasonable to expect not to make mistakes. Do I have regrets? A few but mostly I would still do again what I’ve done. The regrets aren’t for the life I’ve lived but for not being kinder, more forgiving, more loving – including to myself. I like to think I’ve done my best but truth is truth and sometimes I was lazy, fearful, and immature… and often made excuses. But, my husband loves me, my kids call me, and my grandkids think I’m great. What more can I ask?

day 23. earth/Our Lost Jungle-Cento

                                   Earth

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth and saw

she was small, light blue, and so touchingly alone.
It suddenly struck me, that tiny pea,
pretty and blue, was the Earth.
Look around at this world,
how perfectly it's made.
Flowers can't move, yet the insects come
and spread their pollen.
Trees can't move, but birds and animals
eat their fruit and carry their seeds far and wide.

And forget not that the earth delights

to feel your bare feet
and the winds
long to play with your hair.
Our planet is a glimpse of divinity.
Rocks pray, pebbles and boulders
and old weathered hills.  They are still and silent,
and those are two important ways to pray.
Earth's crammed with heaven...
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes.

 

I used a compilation of quotes and poems by:

John Gillespie Magee, Nahoko Uehashi, Kahlil Gibran, Neil Armstrong, Douglas Wood, Edgar Mitchell, Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

 

 

 

 

 

day 21. gender/Our Lost Jungle

                         Gender Switch

We laugh at Curtis and Lemmon in "Some Like it Hot"

because they pretend to be women when they’re not.
Robin Williams as “Mrs. Doubtfire”, Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie
did a great job, made us laugh, I’m sure you’d agree
but women as men don’t seem as hilarious.
Rather they seem just a tad nefarious.
Are we uncomfortable with the switch of gals to guys,
and if so, just what from that should we surmise?

 

day 20. blue/Our Lost Jungle

                     Memories

I’m feeling blue, light, sweet, baby blue

floating on a sapphire stream of velvety
smooth, tourmaline memories of you.

Melancholic indigo thoughts, rough, crude 

tumbling like polished Angelite, barely blue,
edgeless, safe, like my memories, subdued.

 

                      

day 19. “my better half”/Our Lost Jungle

         Me and Myself

 

Who is this person that is me?

I feel I ought to know.
She hides behind some twisted vine
her face afraid to show.

One time she peeked between the leaves

a glimpse of her I caught.
I tried to gently coax her out.
My efforts came to naugh.

She runs and hides. She laughs

and sneers. She cunningly displays
a tantalizing side of me
within a misty haze.

I think, sometimes, I know myself.

I’ve lived with me for years.
But, she remains one step ahead.
So far and yet so near.

But maybe someday if I wait  

we’ll  meet between the selves
then she and I together
will become the best ourselves.

 

day 18. comfort/Our Lost Jungle

                 Comfort

Children have fingers and thumbs,

blankets, pacies, or  lullabies
as sweet comforting allies
when a needful time-out comes.

I’m too old for those palliatives

but books, a bubble bath and prayer
help to sweetly clear the air
when faced with life’s agitatives.

 

day 17. destiny/Our Lost Jungle

            Destiny

 

Some swear by the stars,

others a God who controls
every aspect of their lives.

Moment by moment

I decide and chart my course.
Our sure destiny is death.  

day 16. sentiment/Our Lost Jungle

Father's Day2013  For my Dad John Paul Wilson and Stepdad Earl Allen Dudley

Forget-Me-Nots

Look, I’ve brought flowers.
I’ll put them right here.
Please, excuse the tears,
this is hard for me.

I’ll put them right here
in this bronze bud vase
near “Beloved Father”

Please, excuse the tears.
My eyes don’t know how
to ignore my heart.

This is hard for me.
Is it for you, too?
Are you even here?

day 15. trick/Our Lost Jungle

                Creep

All you want is a little fun.

You know how to get ‘em
with a routine that stuns,
of smiles and promises and winks.
But not how to keep ‘em.
They toss you out and off you slink.

You are such a phony, full of baloney -
nothing but a one trick pony!

 

day 14. plume/Our Lost Jungle

             

http://newsroom.ucla.edu/portal/ucla/why-do-animals-especially-males-111815.aspx     

Plumes and More

I have maligned you, sir,
With your bold colors, fancy plumes,
and extrovert behavior,
I thought you were just conceited.
I admit that upon closer inspection, I have cheated
you a finer quality - safety for your species.

I find you are like the common gang member
dressed in colors and insignia
who strut and preen, not just for attention
from the female sexually, but your appearance or song
is so you and your mate will not choose wrong
but recognize rival gangs - that could be deadly.

So be a show off if you must with your fancy clothes
I understand it's more than sex the reason for your pose.

day 13. plum/Our Lost Jungle

Purple hair, lilac mouth and eyes like damson plums,
she's a lavender delight with a purple thumb.
She‘s the purple pixie that flits upon the scene
planting purple cabbages and purple string beans.
She cultivates the eggplant and grapes and purple fig
with lots of magic and her tiny trowel she’ll dig
and plant and water till the earth is what she loves best
a purple, lavender, burgundy , lilac, plum color fest.

day 12. more/Our Lost Jungle

Grandson

 

Pushing the swing till my arms ache
and still he begs for more.
Reading till my throat is dry
and yet he wants just one more.
Twirling round and round-I’m dizzy-
please, again, just once more.
And  his bubbly laughter
makes my heart soar.
His great delight is not a bore,
for I adore the fun we have
knowing one day we’ll not, anymore,
have that kind of fun.

day 11. Jones/Our Lost Jungle

Clerihew

 


Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third
is a strange name but no more absurd
than Jug, Juggy or Jughead Jones -
that beanie wearin’ fellow in the comic zone.

day 10. green/Our Lost Jungle

White noise:     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KaOrSuWZeM



                                                                     Green

I close my eyes and listen to the gently falling rain. A small constant background music of white noise that soothes my harried mind and I relax and feel… green. Green as the thirsty blades of grass, sated like the dripping green leaves, refreshed like the moss now deeply darkened and soft.  Mellow, fuzzy, sagey green, I feel. The rain washes away the dust motes and pollen drifting in the air and it smells… green. The palest, barest hint of green that is just the beginning of scent with subtle flowery, earthy notes not yet formed but conceived  in the mind of God. 

day 9. wicked/Our Lost Jungle








To be read in the voice of Julia Sugarbaker:


Mama taught me, nice girls always win,
boys like a pretty smile (so I always grin)
Be a good girl if you want to be liked,
she said, check the punch in case its spiked
cause good girls never drink, 'cept tea
in a porcelain cup. You must be proper you see.

I always did what Mama said, a good girl was I
I dressed right and walked right and gave a genteel sigh.
But to my great surprise I never had much fun
Billie Jo Radcliffe did, you know she's one
of those kinds of girls Mother warned about
who sneered at tradition and would flout

all the rules. But, I noticed Billie Jo had lots of beaus
and I had practically none - Percy doesn't count- that nose!
so I had to deliberate on the matter just a tad
and the conclusion that I came to made me a little mad.
Billie Jo and I joined forces and I tell you the truth, Hun
now we're just two very nice girls having wicked fun!

day 8. courage/Our Lost Jungle

                        

I watched him stand on the precipice

then simply step forward and plunge.
It takes courage, I said, to parachute, but he had
a choice, he did it for the thrill of it, I guess
and to me it was tinged with foolhardiness.

On TV I see a woman get into a tank

of sharks.  She probably weighed
the possibilities and thought she was 99% safe.
She was scientific, had pretty good odds unless…
Still I see that as foolishness.

Others simply love speed, in the sky, on land

the Lindbergs, Yeagers, Greens and Campbells
need to get there faster and faster.
I know it takes bravery to dare to be rad
but still to me it’s just...  mad.

Then I see a young mother of three

standing by a mound of earth
or parents holding the hand
of a dying child in a hospital bed.
Their courage won’t be a statistic to be read.

There are different kinds of bravery

and distinctive reasons to be
but for those who have no choice,
and decide to try even when to quit
or walk away would be easier – that takes grit!

 

day 7. tremble/Our Lost Jungle

                      Irony

 

Wait. Could that be a tremble I felt?

I braced myself, was ready to bolt
but, no one else seemed concerned. I say
nothing or they will think I’m a dolt.
This mountain girl is white as a sheet.
She likes solid earth beneath her feet.

I hear they’ll be testing underground

in Amchitka tomorrow early.
They tease of ocean front property
in Arizona - makes me surly.
Those California folks are blasé
I’m beginning to think they’re crasé.

I don’t relax until I’m back home

in West Virginia, safe and secure
Wait. Could that be a tremble I felt?
Maybe, maybe not, I am not sure.
Then the couch started to dance – earthquake!
In Princeton? What? Oh, for goodness sakes.

day 1. new beginnings/Our LostJungle 30X30

Happy New Year” they yell to one another
while confetti falls and streamers float
through the air and the band strikes up
Auld Lang Syne and couples kiss for luck
while toasting in the new year.

 I’ve stolen out to the porch where

it’s cool and quiet and I can be alone
with my gloomy thoughts of the coming year
and wonder if on new year’s eve one person
is appointed keeper of what might be?

In 1906 did a party goer imagine an earthquake

in San Francisco or the Spanish Flu Pandemic in 1918

while others were happy and carefree
did one  wonder what’s coming next,
if this year will bring pain and suffering?

In the midst of happiness and hope,

laughing, jokes, and bubbly champagne,
here I am wondering of war and famine,
death , chaos, and the tides of hate.
Why must I think the worse?

 

day 6. bitter/Our lost Jungle

The peach was so delicious
juicy, sweet and cold
and being somewhat greedy
I desired more.

The pit looked kind of nutty
I cracked it open
wide, saw what seemed an almond,
stuffed it in my face.

Oh, the nasty sensation
after all the sweet
I gave a heaving shudder,
spat it on the ground.

Bitter, that peach pit, bitter.
Fair warning of life,
that in the midst of sweetness,
can hide bitter strife.

day 5. crush/OurLost Jungle

elementary school first love

Crush

cute, athletic
bouncing, dribbling, shooting
Blue Devil’s basketball star
infatuation

 

day 4. “fit for a king”/Our Lost Jungle

Etheree

In My Dreams

 

Pop

comes home
every day
from the office
gives mom a big kiss
and us kids a head pat
and asks “Is supper ready?”
“It’s on the table,” Momma says
Afterwards, daddy pats his belly
and says it was a meal fit for a king.

It’s a dream that I have, you’d think I’d learn

“Father Knows Best” is a TV show
and Momma is workin’ two jobs
just to keep us together
and she’s always worn out.
She tucks us in bed
kisses our head
turns off the
light. "Sweet
dreams."

day 2. slumber/Our Lost Jungle

Diminishing Hexaverse


Baby number two

eight years later is

even harder than

the first. Not enough

sleep, a l w a y s  s l e e p y…

The babe whimpers -

I must have dozed.

I stumble, eyes

closed, to the crib

pick him up

pat his… legs?

Something’s odd.

My child’s

up side

down!

 

30x30: day 3. red Our Lost Jungle

Red is no lady

she’s wise cracking

gum chewing

a long inhalation of smoke

exhaled slowly in your face

sexy and brazen

Confidant, cocky, strong as

espresso in a dainty cup.

 

Cento

In line seven I left out the word ‘shall" - Is that OK when writing a cento or must you use the excerpt exactly?)


            Dressed Down

A Burdock—clawed my Gown—
Who went too near
The Burdock’s Den—
Here I sit
With my shoes mismated.
I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous–
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Lawdy-mercy!
I’s frustrated!

Bad Morning, Langston Hughes; The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T. S. Eliot; A Burdock—clawed my Gown, Emily Dickinson