The teacher / thinking of retirement
Dealt out the test / like playing cards
Everyone got the same / but it wasn’t fair
Because the children had been dealt / different hands
By their mothers / and fathers / and lack thereof
/ / /
This poem was written to the deal poem prompt all the way back on the Day 10 challenge in April at Poetic Asides.
The soldier makes his way / along the trail
His battle is for survival / of his colony and queen
Starvation is the enemy / until the foe
Unleashes their chemical weapons / and he is lost
The trail is gone to him / and he is alone
To be cut off / from his kind
Is the deepest wound / not to be of service
As his colony is being attacked / and destroyed
/ / /
This poem was written to the “Battle (blank)” prompt all the way back on the Day 9 challenge in April at Poetic Asides. This poem was also inspired by the Day Nine prompt at NaPoWriMo.
Father casts a spell / that starts the morning
The aroma of coffee brewing / and the kitchen light on
Son casts his spell / bringing noise
His good morning to the father / who grunts in reply
Dog casts her spell / bringing joy
Her gentle licks / and wagging tail
Bringing son / and father / into full waking
Now they are a family again
/ / /
This poem was written to the family poem prompt all the way back on the Day 8 challenge in April at Poetic Asides. This poem was also inspired by the Day Eight prompt at NaPoWriMo.
The Tower has Called
Heed their Call:
Tower over others
Treat yourself to a Shot, honey
Take a breath, shoot
Breathe, honey, breathe
Tell the truth, do no Harm
We’ve seen your Tell
We’re calling your Bluff
Standing on the Bluff
The Tower in the distance
The sound of a Fiddle
Alone, late at night
Take the Pass
Alone, late at night
Pass on your Fiddle
Before it’s too late
They’re calling from the Bluff
Heed their Call:
It’s okay to Bluff
They’re calling from the Pass
Heed their Call:
Pass it on
/ / /
This poem was written using the twelve words from Wordle 356 at The Sunday Whirl.
Shell out some money
For a limbo contest
See how low you can go
The children are nowhere to be seen
Nor can you hear their rattles
Their laughter
Slide through the ring of spectators
Snapping images on their phones
Pit yourself against yourself
The children are safe
No blades are in their reach
No pills to be swallowed
The spectators gasp at your prowess
After the contest, slip some money to the concierge
To make sure your sheets are turned down
That same night, not in a hotel
Their children go to sleep on cots
No arms folded around them for comfort
/ / /
This poem was written in response to the twelve words of Wordle 357 at The Sunday Whirl.
Sadly Waiting for Recess 