Mom Has Gone She left some time ago… Where she went, I don’t know. Her body remains, Her voice she retains… Yet, her memories are gone, And sadly, so his her song. Mom was a singer extraordinaire, The loss of her breast, …just one; It…
Category: Poetry Prompt Responses
Recipe for an Ideal Lover
Listen Hunting Dodge Duck Wood The following is the recipe for finding an ideal lover. Follow the rules. Keep it close and you may just about find your ideal lover. It is a difficult task to find an ideal lover. However, if you insist on…
Recipe for a Pandemic Response (Prompt 2)
First you preheat your oven at 180 degrees, an about-face from everything you knew and took for granted. Let it sit for a month or two, the year’s just begun. Then you take a large mixing bowl, scramble up a few rumors, official statements, hearsay,…
Poetry Marathon Submission, #2
A Recipe for Ripened Intellect, Submission #2, Ann WJ White Life is a stream of books, stacked in piles to peruse. Grated science fiction, mixed with forked dramas, particle physics discovered in 420BC, for added flavor. History, biographies, romance and other non-fiction, Twisted about, squeezed….
Hour 2: Teach Yourself a Lesson Tea
Ingredients: 1 quart of self-doubt 1 bag of self-confidence a dash of lingering 1 carton of tears of self-pity 1 small packet of recklessness Procedures: Place self-doubt in a pan on the back burner, over a medium heat until boiling furiously. Pour into a mug….
Hour 2, Almost a Haiku
I never was one for following recipes, prefer, instead, the adventure of trial and error.
Mother Ear hour 1
What will be left When finally his turn is done With what’s left of her From the clench of His vice like grip Dripping with plaque Will we get there in time? Will she still be alive? If we bring the non-doctors And tell her…
#2 The Volta
That rubber-soled squeak, screech (meant tenacity, speed) now highlights sharp discord of my crumbling strength, echoing from the loud tv.
My Venture
I can venture out right now, in sloppy hills of valleys where every height gives fright. The ups and down are sudden, when I am on car of wooden. I ride the car, getting millions of scars to make memorable my drastic oldage while I…
Queen Ana Nzinga of Ndongo and Matamba
Born with a cord around her neck foreshadowing power and pride, she was taught by Portuguese missionaries. Her father, king, trained her for battle, showered her with affection; the daughter of his favourite concubine. She wore traditional attire to a treaty meeting, they…