Dealing

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.

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Battle Wounds

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.

Family

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.

A sense is a feeling

Touch is a true sense / a feeling
Taste is a true sense / frozen lemonade / on a hot day / at Disneyland

But can we say that / of sight
We don’t feel the photons / hitting rods and cones
We don’t feel the molecules / of lemongrass / in our nostrils
We don’t feel the soundwaves / of Thelonious Monk / on Relaxin’ with Lee

But don’t tell me Starry Night does not move you
Or that the smell of chocolate chip cookies / baking
Doesn’t take you back / to your childhood
And / well / Monk’s touch on the piano / isn’t sublime

A thought is a sense / a memory is a sense
A dream is a sense / as is a nightmare
We have more senses / than we know / what to do with
How could we limit / ourselves to just five

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the day seven prompt at Poetic Asides to write a senses poem.

Ham Salad

You are neither ham / nor are you salad
At yet, you are no imposter / I don’t feel jilted
You are delicious
Which is more than I can say / for other imposters
Who do leave me feeling disappointed / and angry
They paint this picture postcard / view of themselves
But reality is not a postcard / or a poem
They impose this view of themselves / on me
But it does not hold / as an image / or a poem
It is a sham / unlike you / ham salad sandwich
You are delicious

/ / /

This poem was written to the day five prompt at Poetic Asides to write a food poem. I was also inspired by the craft resource from day five at NaPoWriMo: Some Thoughts on the Integrity of the Single Line in Poetry by Alberto Rios.

Intelligence

What is nowadays common
is nonsense over sense.
What was still is.
Moving forward is not
on the agenda, so
it is time for the not common.

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the day five “intelligence” prompt at Poetic Asides. It is a golden shovel based on a Voltaire quote: “Common sense is not so common.”

Case of Happiness

If we were to think on happiness
we would find that it is
much more so than it is not.
It is something
real and ready
for us, but it is not bought or made.

Thinking on happiness, it
goes, but it also comes
to us. It is from
us, from me, from your
heart. It is something you own,
built from your actions.

/ / /

This poem was written to the “Case (blank)” prompt at Poetic Asides, as well as being inspired by the “something abstract” prompt at NaPoWriMo. It is a golden shovel; the source is this quote by the Dalai Lama: “Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.”

Don’t You

Don’t show, don’t tell
lies and fictions to me
that bolster your
sense of your troubles
how rough your life is and
how you are full of doubts

Stop giving
a sheen to you and me
everything
from your heart inside
to the world and
the reality out
of your control and

Stop saying our love’s
powerful and yet so strange
just so – and then more – and so
rooted in love and real
genuine tenderness in
your heart and the
things we did in the dark

Stop asking me to think
about and around and of
all your thoughts and the
things raw and tender
that aren’t really things
between us that
we did when we
were together and when we were
apart or just working
because life moves on

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the “portrait” prompt at Poetic Asides. This is my first attempt at a golden shovel, using the following verse from “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” written by Keith Forsey and Steve W. Schiff and performed by Simple Minds.

Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving me everything inside and out and
Love’s strange so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on

CR-V

I, hands on the steering wheel,
my Ray-Bans on against the glare

You, sitting beside me,
Facebooking

The teenager, texting
a friend on his iPhone

The dog, beside him,
eagerly waiting our arrival

waiting so patiently
for the pack leader

to get us all
to the dog park

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the “portrait” prompt at Poetic Asides and the “poem that plays with voice” prompt at NaPoWriMo.

Hearth

You sift the flour
The finer particles fall

You think on
what is left

What will not go
into the cake

Your family will love
this confection

You hold
the bitterness apart

This will be
your secret

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the “secret” prompt at Poetic Asides and the “secret shame” or “secret pleasure” prompt at NaPoWriMo.