In the meantime, enjoy the responses I have made to other prompts.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Inspired by Carry on Tuesday's prompt to use a William Shakepeare quote from Hamlet

When Will I Learn?

“Mom, could you loan me twenty bucks?
I saw a set of hoops today
I have to buy before they’re sold.”
“Dear, ‘all that glitters is not gold.’1

“’Neither a borrower nor lender be;’2
That’s sage advice from Pops and me.”
“Why, Mother, must you talk in rhyme
And quote Will Shakespeare all the time?

“See! You’ve got me doing it too!”
“Because your Grandpa’s blood’s in you."
“But Mom, it’s been four hundred years!”
“It’s not like blood lines disappear.

“Don’t fight what nature’s meant for thee!
Oh ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’3
I shook my head and walked away
I knew I shouldn’t ask.

1  The Merchant of Venice
2  Hamlet
3  A Midsummer Night's Dream

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Inspired by my past

This poem is based on my childhood experiences.  There is much that happened that is not said, but I've struggled so long with how to put into words what I went through, and this is finally what came out.  Some of the facts have been altered for the sake of the poem, and for the sake of offering hope to someone who might be in the midst of the same experience.  Jim, my abuser, was never convicted as none of us ever told until we were adults.  I am considering self-illustrating this (even though I haven't really done any artwork for thirty years) and trying to self-publish.  I am asking those who visit here to provide me some feedback on two points.  Do you think it is worth publishing, and where does the piece need editing?  I thank you in advance for your input.

Time to Tell

I said to sis when I was two,
“I wish that I could be like you;
I want to do the things you do.”
My sis turned twelve when I was two.

And I recall, when I was three,
My older sister said to me,
“I wish that I could set you free.”
That’s what she said when I was three.

The strangest thing, when I was four –
I watched my sis walk out our door.
She never came back anymore.
That’s what took place when I was four.

By five is when I’d start to learn
I had to take my sister’s turn.
Its reach I could not yet discern.
In time, that truth I’d come to learn.

And then my sixth and seventh years
Were filled with conflict, angst and tears,
The cheapest wines, the bottled beers,
And time with him, my biggest fears.

Within myself I tried to hide;
My mother battled her own side.
In no one else could I confide;
Too young to run, I tried to hide.

At eight, I thought to turn to prayer.
I prayed, “Don’t let him touch me there,”
It seems my words hung in the air;
I got no answer to my prayer.

And then in school, when I was nine,
I tried to act like things were fine,
So, that became my standard line,
He left no marks when I was nine.

And next, at ten, entrenched in Hell,
A teacher said she knew me well,
Assured me it was safe to tell;
Her simple words, a gate from Hell.

That year the Fosters took me in,
Said, “What you did is not a sin;
Know now your new life will begin.”
Did God ask them to take me in?

Eleven, twelve, the truth revealed.
So many years of pain concealed.
Could justice help the wounds be healed?
That truth was yet to be revealed.

They called my sister to the stand;
She flew in from some distant land.
“I meant to tell; that’s what I planned,”
She told the court when on the stand.

“I came to make him pay his debts.”
My sister said, “What no one gets:
He kept my silence with his threats.”
What could he do to pay his debts?

Then came the time to resurrect
And try to gain some self-respect.
A mirror’s where I’d ‘oft reflect
On who was there to resurrect.

The route I took from dark to light,
It did not happen overnight.
It took some time to make it right;
For twenty years I fought the fight.

But now, at last, I’m proud to say
That overall, I am okay.
And though some scars get in the way,
No thanks to him, I am okay.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

All I Ask inspired by prompt from

I happened upon this prompt while visiting

All I Ask 

Little I ask, my wants are few* –
To dip my toes in morning dew,
To watch the sun crest o’er the hills,
As day’s new light on morning spills.

To brew a pot of breakfast tea
And have a few friends sip with me.
To stand where shore and ocean meet
And feel its cool waves wash my feet.

That guardian angels use their charm
To keep my children safe from harm,
And as their independence grows
Wants not a need each child knows.

Let obligations never hide
Imagination’s playful side;
Let clouds of anger rarely stay,
And laughter help them roll away.

As age’s tax exacts its toll,
I ask for strength to take a stroll,
For sanity to help me think,
And of my dream, to take a drink.

Then as the sun on my life sets,
I ask to leave with no regrets.

*From Oliver Wendell Holmes poem “Contentment.”

Saturday, July 9, 2011

A Solid Choice...inspired by

A Solid Choice

Mary had a little lamb,
Whose fleece was charcoal black;
It ran away from home one day,
And never did come back.

Then Mary bought a brindle pup
And tied him to a tree,
But puppy ate right through his leash
And let himself run free.

So Mary thought she’d get a goat
And let him roam around.
When Mary came back home from school,
Her goat could not be found.

(Perhaps its disappearance
Could be blamed upon the fact
In Mary’s mother’s garden,
Not a plant was left in tact.)

Mary did some research next,
Then bought a spotted mouse.
But sure enough, by suppertime,
It roamed around the house.

Mary searched for days and days,
But only found its fur,
Deducing that her brother’s cat
Had mouse inside of her.

So, Mary sat down with her mom,
Of all her luck took stock,
And figured her best bet would be
To buy a grey pet rock.

The Writing Mama: Wacky Poetry

The Writing Mama: Wacky Poetry

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Inspired by:

This is a little off course for the purported purpose of this blog, but I promise there will be rhyme within.  I don't know how far this will go.  The prompt was "woods" and this is what happened when I wandered into them...

Day 10

I knew I only had three days left before we headed home, and as of yet, I’d had no luck.  Although I’d been in the woods some part of nearly every day of this vacation (except for the one where Mom made me go to town with her and last Wednesday when it rained all day), I’d seen no evidence of the fairies.  I heard plenty of sounds, but nothing distinct. Even though I was convinced they existed, if I didn’t find something soon, I’d have to face Martha.  The last thing I wanted to do was tell her she’s right.

So today, I came up with a different plan.  I decided to go empty-handed into the woods, taking no food, no binoculars, no tape recorder, no journal, no nothing.  For three hours I planned to be as still as the stone I sat on, thinking maybe, just maybe those fairies would forget I was around.  Mom said I had to be home for lunch by noon because Aunt Tess was joining us, which meant there’d be no returning to the woods until tomorrow.  Once Aunt Tess comes, she never leaves, and I knew Mom expected me to help keep her company.  It was more than a one-person job.

After the first hour went by, I realized sitting still was a lot harder than I thought, but I did my best.  (My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Magnum, would be impressed.)  When I first sat down, I listened carefully for any fairy whispers, but all I heard were the bullfrogs in the nearby pond.  The longer I waited, the more I thought I heard voices, but it definitely could have just been my imagination.  Then, just as I thought I was going to explode, I saw a small blue object fall from the tree a few feet in front of me.  I watched as it landed, sending a puff of leaves into the air.  At first I thought it might be a nut or a piece of fruit, but then I realized I’d never seen either with that bright of color.  Could it be?  I stood up, took a deep breath and as much as I wanted to run, forced myself to tiptoe over to the fallen object.  

to be continued as the day wears on...

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Emily Gray said to write about the environment

For Shame

A peeve of mine, for what it’s worth,
Is how we treat our Mother Earth,
Each acting like a spoiled teen –
Self-centered and a little mean,
Not thinking of what’s good for all,
Won’t sacrifice or take the fall.
“It’s not my job to save this land;
Let others lend a helping hand.”
And yet, like teens, as we grow old,
Supplies grow lean, the earth grows cold,
We come to realize much too late
We’ve left our world in quite a state,
And had we even done our share,
Our kids could breathe in cleaner air.