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

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Truth Be Told

 Disney had dubbed him the “Practical Pig.”
The British portrayed him as wise.
Conspiracy theorists and those in the know
Have called him a crook in disguise.

It wasn’t the plan of his brothers to build
Their houses of straws or of sticks.
Exploiting the lack of their practical sense
He told them they’re stronger than bricks.

The truth known as well is the wolf didn’t die,
Nor did he get burned on his bum.
By stalking and eating the other two pigs
The third would reward him a sum.

The three were the heirs to a goodly amount –
They came from a long wealthy line.
Though their kinfolk were kind and respected to date,
The eldest was truly a swine.

A greedy, barbaric and angry young pig,
He stomped on poor kittens for fun.
He tortured his brothers by stealing their food.
His antics were second to none.

But most did not see what his true colors were;
He did all his work on the sly.
And that’s why the authors believed him to be
A clever, considerate guy.

With dirty work done and the money paid off
The wolf and the pig parted ways.
The pig bought some acres all covered in mud
To live out the rest of his days.

Today's Writer's Cramp asked us to tell rewrite the ending of the Three Little Pigs.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

My Portable Place

The single place I love to write
Will travel with me day and night.
It’s with me when I’m in the car.
It’s with me when I’m at the bar.
And when I choose to sit a spell
The single place is there as well.
Then anytime I go away
My place is with me everyday.
In Timbuktu or Delaware
My special place is always there.

And yes, I need at my command
Some writing tools to keep on hand – 
A journal and a chosen pen,
A voice recorder now and then – 
To note before the thoughts erase
The words I author in my space.
(For at my age a thought is gone
As quickly as a rookie’s pawn,
So if I fail to make a note
Its chance of loss is not remote.)

In summary I always bring
My writing place to everything – 
A car, a bar, a picnic spot – 
It never leaves. (I write a lot.)
No need for comfy chairs or lights
No need for oceanic sites.
No need for certain rooms instead,
My favored place is in my head.

A co-winner in the Writer's Cramp prompt asking us to write about out favorite writing place.

Monday, May 25, 2015

The Memory Shall Be Ours*

I never had the chance to be
A daddy’s girl for years and years.
You passed away when I was three.
I still remember Mama’s tears.

Those early days it made no sense;
I didn’t care what people said.
A sacrifice at my expense –
I only knew my dad was dead.

But as I aged and reason grew,
I felt your strength; I understood.
To show respect I’d be like you.
I’d join the army when I could.

And so I did; I made a vow
To make the army my career
And when I did I thought somehow
I saw you grinning ear to ear.

As I progressed on through the ranks
I felt your presence evermore.
My goal in mind – to lead the flanks
Your memory to underscore.

How proud I was that autumn day
As I processed across the stage
To hear him “Sergeant Major” say
A thirst, at last, I could assuage.

As I reflect, my goal attained,
The loss I feel is still as great,
But through your absence I have gained,
Your spirit, Dad, to guide my fate.

This poem is based on two inspirations. One is the Writer’s Cramp prompt from today asking the writers to use Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem for inspiration (see below) and the other is from a recent Story Corp episode I heard involving Sergeant Major Lisa Torello speaking with Tony Cistaro, the only survivor from the attack that killed her father.

Decoration Day

Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest
On this Field of the Grounded Arms,
Where foes no more molest,
Nor sentry's shot alarms!

Ye have slept on the ground before,
And started to your feet
At the cannon's sudden roar,
Or the drum's redoubling beat.

But in this camp of Death
No sound your slumber breaks;
Here is no fevered breath,
No wound that bleeds and aches.

All is repose and peace,
Untrampled lies the sod;
The shouts of battle cease,
It is the Truce of God!

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!
The thoughts of men shall be
As sentinels to keep
Your rest from danger free.

Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers
Yours has the suffering been,
*The memory shall be ours.

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Limericks Using the End Word Roots

In the process of earnest pursuits
To search out and learn of my roots
I discovered my kin
Was embedded in sin.
I'm hoping genetics dilutes.


I'm confused by his lofty pursuits
Hobnobbing at meetings with suits
As the boy was a player.
"But his dad is the mayor."
I guess he was backed by his roots.


Said a carrot to tropical fruits,
"For sight we're the favored recruits."
But he kiwi replied,

"We've got C on our side.
So there! Now go back to your roots!"

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Bad Kitty!

"Dear Cat I beseech you
Allow me to leave.
My children will miss me;
My dear wife will grieve.
My body is lean
And my stature is small
I’m certain myself
Won’t sustain you at all.”

“My mouse, I applaud you
For stating your plea.
How brave of you, sir,
For flattering me.
For thinking I’m caring
And willing to chat.
You seem to forget,
My dear mouse, I’m a cat.”

“Perhaps, my fair feline,
Perhaps if you’d wait
A much larger portion
Will walk through this gate.
Or if you’d allow me
To show you the way
I know where a large pack
Of prairie dogs play.
They’re fat from the grasslands,
Quadruple my size.
A meal for your stomach
As big as your eyes.”

“You think me a fool
You mus musculus* beast.
I am up for a snack
And not wanting a feast!
And of course I know well
Where those rodents reside.
Stop looking around.
It is too late to hide!”

“But think of my children;
Please think of my wife.
I beg of you Kitten
Please spare me my….”

*This is the species of a house mouse.

Yesterday's Writer's Cramp prompt from was to write a story or poem that was all dialogue with no tags.

Monday, May 18, 2015

To Lady C

To follow your prompt
What words can I say?
You put up a task
That I’m up tp today.
A difficult job
But I’m wanting to play.
How long will I last
Without going astray?

My Lady, I ask 
What dawns upon you
To bid of us authors
To labor on through
Avoiding a symbol
By calling taboo
A mark to occur
Most commonly too!

How galling a task,
I might say a sin.
Would Frost opt to try
With topics so thin?
To handcuff my thought
To slow down my spin
You truly must know
What hardship I’m in.

But forging on through,
Though fabric is light,
I did what I could
To finish my fight
I trust you don’t mind,
With options so slight,
I stop with this bunk now
And call it a night.

This is a total nonsensical rhyme for The prompt was to write a lipogram where we had to avoid the letter e.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Make Me a Double

Writer's Cramp winner, May 17, 2015

Make Me a Double

In two-thousand seventy-two
While looking for something to do
I noticed an ad
For the most recent fad
Displayed in my hologram view.

“With no flying patterns to clear
And no regulations to fear
Why purchase a drone
When we’ll sell you a clone?
The best selling product this year!

“An investment you’ll want to explore
Though it might cost a little bit more.
With the workload you’ll share
There is naught can compare
And delivery’s right to your door!

“The instructions are easy as pie.
(Another good reason to buy.)
Its computerized brain
Is the kind you can train
Come see us and give it a try!”

So, of course by the end of the day
They had gotten my clone underway.
It is worth all I spent
(Which was double my rent)
If my clone can do work while I play.

Some Sunday morning limericks - the rhyming word is hound

For searching they brought out the hound
“The best-sniffing hunt dog around!”
But instead of the punk
It uncovered a skunk
And the stench from its spray was profound!


We went to a breeder I found
And purchased a highly-bred hound.
It had issues galore
And we paid so much more.
Our next dog will come from the pound.


Though in practice I don’t like to hound
There are moments I have to, I’ve found.
Like when neighbors complain
Of our jungle terrain
I feel like I have to expound.

I have been participating in Mad Kane's Limerick-off for a number of years now. I figure I may as well post them on my blog. With school still in session and no one pushing me to write, my creative juices are not flowing as well these days.