Prompt for Hour Eleven
Write a poem about dogs. However you cannot use any of the followings words in the poem: dog, canine, bark, growl, and puppy. You also can’t use the names of any dog breeds. So, it should be a bit of a challenge.
Saturday
Saturday evening shortens time with
less to see and lovely prompts
prepared to guide us as we work this
furtive task inhaling bliss and
calling out to solvent friends where
whiffs of jasmine, clove and
Cinnamon cling to summer haven,
lakeside bungalow believed
reality, yet still a dream built to
take us back to Neverland, a dream.
prompt 10 Autobiography of a face
Autobiography of a Face.
Its round.
Perfectly round.
Swiss-precision built.
A face,
With hands!
Who knew?
It ticks off my days,
Relentlessly stoic,
Unable
To warn,
Or cajole
When pushed to extremes
By my casual waste
Of time.
The dark guide
Its cool
when the breeze flows
it becomes quiet
when the night starts..
Moon shines with glory
emerging in thoughts
we are left at peace
to make one with ourselves..
Promises are made
interactions are done
plan is to chase
all those dreams..
When ahead in life
the spirit dies but
night shines again
to guide us
through the stars
to our love
for our dreams…
Autobiography of A Face: Mount Hood
Your crags of shadow driven thicker by the morning light;
I never knew so many shades of white, until I saw you;
The glare of your western face in the 6 am orb of sun.
The wrinkles of century old glaciers ribbed with dirt,
And your nose’s highest peak, tallest above all others.
Still, in the summer heat, you contain a million diamonds
And shine more celestial than the brightest, rarest star.
Crystal Part 2
The cold water washed over my aching, sweating body.
It was July in Sacramento California, unforgiving heat.
The clock proudly read 7pm, the heat was starting to give
Beads of sweat started to form on my forehead,
I shut my eyes, and let my head sink under the water.
Darting thoughts that I couldn’t ignore assaulted me.
I miss her, but I missed her more.
Fauna had Crystal
Fauna was with another woman making her writhe and moan
Feeling each other, feeling Crystal inside of them.
And I was alone, in a bathtub,
Trying to forget Crystal.
The elation and euphoria
I held my breath as long as I could
My chest burned
And I screamed
#10 Autobiography of a Face
My summer picture face is just fine.
Pictures show a joy-filled smile in the sunshine.
In the mirror, I am less satisfied.
My face has been touched by gravity.
Sixty-three years of gravity.
Wrinkles and age spots are minor, so I can’t whine.
My generation began summer with a sunburn, if possible, soaked in ocean brine.
Summer was lived outdoors, from sunup to sundown.
But my face seems to frown because of this gravity.
I don’t mind age, but I despise gravity.
Autobiography of a Face
my face is a map
of triumph, tears, sorrow and pain;
the lines,
the path of my life;
a road
winding, turning, twisting
and taking me back home again;
my eyes filled with images
of a life well lived
welcome
to the autobiography
of my face
By: KMH 2015
Tenth poem
Autobiography of a Face
How long I have been a window to this world,
So many years have passed by.
Yet thinking of other faces I’ve known,
I tell the body to push on with a sigh.