Late on last two poems…

I had trouble with my internet and couldn’t post Hours 11 &  12 until now.

Good luck to all those doing the full marathon. You rock!

Magical Moment – Hour 12

I heard your call before you appeared

mystical bird of the north.

Your haunting, plaintive song

echoed across the still lake.


Striking a regal pose, head held high,

in formal black and white attire,

your doppelgänger perfectly reflected in the water.


You called again, and your mate arrived

Together you dove for dinner

and I waited … and waited … and waited …


At last, you broke the surface –

right in front of me.

Your intense red eyes met my curious green ones

for a magical moment we connected.


IMAGE: painting copyright Wendie Donabie


Agents of Change – Hour 11


Beyond the pines, stars sail by as we spin through another night.

We ponder what lies out there beyond our myopic view?

Are there beings watching us destroy our beautiful planet?


Do we expect a space cowboy in shining armour

to arrive in his pure white spaceship

to save us in the eleventh hour?


Fools we be if this is our belief.

Our hope, our answers lie within us.

We must be the agents of change.


Where there is the will,

there will be a way.

and the time to act is today.


IMAGE: Stay Rooted While Reaching for the Stars, copyright Wendie Donabie

Creative Challenge – Hour 10

If I threw everything in my studio into a pot,

what would I get?

Paints, papers, inks, glues, rocks, feathers, books and brushes

computer, pens, pencils, erasers, easel, desk and cabinets

canvases, boards, tiles, buckets, and more

Would I create a masterpiece like our universe?


Would I produce life

like the unknown force that tossed everything in existence together

to trigger the Big Bang?


that won’t happen

but it could be a way to find a new direction for my work.


I need to mix it up.

Put disparate items together.

Nietzsche said, out of chaos, comes order.

That’s my plan – create a mess and find a way out of it.

Challenge myself to discover a new creative expression.

Yes, this is it!

Curse of the Apple Crisp – HOUR 9

I searched in my cupboard for a food that brought up a childhood memory

but nothing worked.

I’m descended from a long line of omnivores.

I’m a boomer whose mom cooked with canned foods and processed flours, every kind of fat, and she baked a lot.

I’m not her.

For eight years, I’ve eaten a plant-based diet, low in fat, dairy, and meat free.

I don’t want to eat meat any longer. The texture and taste do nothing for me. Although I do indulge in the occasional piece of cheese.

At the beginning, I had trouble finding products to keep me plant- based but today with more people joining the movement, it’s easier to purchase foods for my diet.

I felt bad that I failed in finding a something in my cupboard that triggered a childhood memory, so I went back to take another look, and there it was – brown sugar. I recalled one of my favourite desserts – hot apple crisp with that rich, sugary, crunchy, cinnamon and nutmeg, oatmeal, and butter topping crowned with a scoop of melting vanilla ice cream.

Mom used food as a reward and made this dessert often. Unfortunately for my waistline, it’s a lesson I have yet to unlearn. It’s the curse of the apple crisp.

Don’t tell anyone, I still make it today! And I use Mom’s recipe!

Wade Wins – Women Lose – HOUR 8

(Response to Gigan challenge)


Summer swelters beyond my exhausted window

hot inside air pulled outside where it belongs.


I’m comfortable here at my computer –

a cool cat writing poetry,

sporting a beret back in a 1950s café.


When I was nine to thirteen, I loved Maynard G. Krebs,

the Beatnik poet on Dobie Gillis.


He broke all the rules my parents lived by –

the ones I knew I dare not break.


Strange the memories that surface while

summer swelters beyond my exhausted window?


When I was nine to thirteen, I loved Maynard G. Krebs,

at fifteen had a crush on a poet friend in high school,

discovered I was bound by societal rules of engagement.


Then, at eighteen, I broke the rules, got pregnant, had an illegal abortion –

a decision many of our American sisters may have to make again.

Sharing a View – Hour 7

Based on the photo prompt


There’s no greater pleasure

than time spent with you

your arm wrapped around me

as we take in a view.


The warmth of your body,

pressed close to my side,

shows all around us

a love we won’t hide.


The touch of your hand

makes me tingle inside;

I’m a woman in love

my heart true and tried.


Please keep on sharing

your views of this life,

for working together

we can live free from strife.

THE MOON – Hour 6


I fall into a swoon

at the sight of the moon

like a romantic tune

or the call of a loon.


Though singers will croon

about love coming soon

of the Strawberry moon

appearing in June,


at night I cocoon

at home in my woon

and commune with the moon

my life to attune.



Woon definition – domicile, residence, home, abode (place of living) residence.


IMAGE: Muskoka Moonlight copyright Wendie Donabie

Hope – Hour 5

Pick 5 words from the list in the prompt:

space,  wine glass,  pavement,  sunflower,  oak

In the space,

between the pavement

and the bomb-levelled home,

the oak tree clung to life,

its limbs splintered

by shrapnel.


Beside it a solitary sunflower

its face bent in sorrow

looked down at a wine glass,



Nature grieves for us,

yet hopes

for an end to war.


IMAGE: Sunflower copyright Wendie Donabie

Haunted Melody – Hour 4

(inspired by the photo prompt)

I wandered one day in the forest,

feeling as if I was led,

when I heard what sounded like music

from a piano somewhere up ahead.


I followed the strains of the melody

drawing me deeper into the wood.

The song strangely haunting, familiar –

inspired by evil or good?


The trees seemed to gather around me,

the path I had trod turned to sand

when there in a clearing before me

stood a decrepit, upright grand.


How had this tired old fellow

come to this desolate glade

his torso filled with dry, brown leaves

his keys no longer played?


I felt a presence answer me

as I cautiously lingered there,

“I’ve called you to be with me

I’m the love you’ve sought elsewhere.”


A chill ran through my body

when I heard the specter speak.

I turned to run away from there,

my lungs let out a shriek.


I raced out of the forest

escaping from that hell,

I still could hear the music

coming from the haunted shell.


I look back on that frightful day

and question, was it real,

as I sit here with my lover

tickling ivories with zeal.


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