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

Sunday, October 29, 2017

https://susannahill.com/2017/10/27/the-7th-annual-halloweensie-contest-aahhhrrrooooooooo/

Me and My Shadow
  
Monster’s shadow said to him, “You never let us be
what I want for Halloween. You always pick for me!”

“Well, either I choose this year or Monster you should know –
when it comes to Trick-or-treat I will refuse to go!”

“But you are just my shadow; you have to go my way!”

“Not this time,” said the shadow. “Believe me when I say.
We either dress as candy corn, and not some frightful ghost.  
Or you and I will stay at home the day you love the most.”

Then Monster yielded since he knew
A candy corn could still yell, “Boo!”




This is an entry for Susanna Leonard Hill's "7th Annual Halloweensie Contest." The rules were to write a story for children (aged 12 and under) using the words candy corn, monster and shadow. We were limited to 100 words, but (thank goodness) candy corn counted as one word. 


Saturday, October 14, 2017

https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/922107

Partner Change?

I’m dancing with my demons, and at times they take the lead.

At times I try to loose their hold, just fighting to be freed.
They tend to keep me out of step, to make me doubt my skills.
What causes me anxiety must give my demons thrills.
I know if I’m to reach my dreams, they’ll have to step aside;
despite the pleas I’ve made to them, so far I've been denied. 
I'm ready for a partner change so I can move ahead;
I know I'd soar if I could dance with Confidence instead.




https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/921746-Will-You-Go-the-Distance

Will You Go the Distance?
A Rondeau

Can marriage last the marathon
which many will embark upon?
All start out with a common line,
then couples wed and all are fine.
A few years in, some have withdrawn.

Now midway through, some folks look wan,
and choose to rest then start anon,
while others slow and then resign.
Will marriage last?

They wake up on one early dawn
and realize all their kids are gone.
It’s then the couples must opine –
to call it quits or toast with wine.
What ending will each couple spawn?
Can marriage last?






The rondeau is typically fifteen lines long and written in iambic tetrameter, though eight syllable long lines work just as well. The rhyming pattern is aabba aabR aabbaR, where the Refrains are the first four syllables of the opening line.

Monday, October 9, 2017

A Twitter Post -

Not Quite Empty Nest

As offspring moved and cleared the air
I found my husband standing there
I think I knew him way back when
but now we'll have to meet again





The title was not included in the post.

https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2136847-Farewell-to-Teaching

Farewell to Teaching
A Petrarchan Sonnet

The job of teaching children brings me pride
but also causes stress in many ways.
The mixture of emotion in my days
might make me laugh or eat me up inside.
What adds to that's a problem district-wide,
with fewer staff while student numbers raise,
it seems more of a fact than of a phase
the bite of budget cuts can't be denied.
As through the fifteenth year of this I stride,
continuing to navigate the maze,
I've set my thoughts on other ventures too.
Before my brain and energy are fried
and I must walk through life in just a haze
I think it's time for me to say adieu. 


Monday, September 4, 2017

Thoughts a few days into my 15th year as a 7th grade math teacher


Observations from the Classroom

Students these days
are pressured in ways
never pressured before.
With input they're flooded,
their confidence, gutted, 
truths we cannot ignore.



Saturday, September 2, 2017

My Tweet

#POTUS

When your primary characteristic
is perceived to be narcissistic,
just how are we to be optimistic?




Sunday, August 27, 2017

A Pond Poetry image prompt of hands tied together. It had to be the Kyrielle form.

We are Women

Although still bound, to some extent,
ropes have loosened for our daughters.
A growing force that won't relent,
we are testing deeper waters.

True we've yet to balance the scale,
but we see, at least, it totters.
In time parity will prevail.
We are testing deeper waters.

I wish Ms. Anthony could see -
the life we live now is not hers.
but close to one she dreamed could be.
We are testing deeper waters.

Although still bound, to some extent,
we are testing deeper waters. 



A Kyrielle - a 14 line poem with 8 syllables per line. The rhyme scheme is AbaB cbcB dbdB AB, which means the last line repeats and the first and last lines of the first stanza are the last two lines of the poem.

Another Writer's Cramp prompt - a 24-hour prompt-based contest - which was the title.

He was a Friend of Mine

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine.
Our backyards, borderless.
His house was mine,
mine his,
as if we were brothers.

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine.
Same classes, same sports, same teams.
He, a little better at baseball,
me, at soccer.
Neither of us showed any promise in football.
He struggled with school.
I did what I could to help him out.

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine
until high school happened
and we no longer shared any classes.
Until my own studying, baseball and piano practices and participation on the math competition team left me little free time to help him out.
Until academic performance kept him off the baseball team.
Until the fence went up around our backyard and entrance into each other's house required knocking.
Until his dad left.

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine,
but then he was put in the Alternate Program because he missed too many days of school and failed several classes,
so I heard.
But then he found new brothers and together they discovered ways to cope with the pressures of high school,
of life,
so I heard.

Yes,
once upon a time,
that boy, -
that boy who died of "unexpected causes,"
(so I read) -
he was a friend of mine. 




A response to a Writer's Cramp prompt relating to Christmas in August.

Bah Humbug!

There's something wrong
when early Fall
I travel to
a shopping mall
and in the stores
what first I see
are garland and
a Christmas tree!

You merchants think
with this, somehow,
I'll start to shop
for Christmas now
and never stop,
I do believe,
until the night
of Christmas Eve.

But I'm afraid,
for me I'd say,
although I love
the holiday,
I cannot shop;
I have to wait
'til turkey's done
to celebrate!

It's not about
your corporate worth;
it is about
a savior's birth,
but this event
on you is lost.
You're focused on
an object's cost.

Your profit line,
I understand,
but your supply 's
not my demand.
To take a stance,
I must be gone
to shop at home
from this day on.

Friday, August 18, 2017

To the Alt-Right

How hard the heart you've filled with hate. 
How troublesome your mental state. 
Your stance with mine, I can't equate. 
But I'd be glad to educate.



Monday, August 14, 2017

#charlottesville

Rhetorical Questions
What shallow minds consider birth
to be the measure of their worth?
If skin and looks are all you see, 
what narrow vision must there be?
How can we make this country great
when those within are filled with hate?


Sunday, August 13, 2017

Long Live the Rhyme!

Once upon a recent time
in the land of making rhyme
people milled the streets all day
and spoke in rhyme along the way.

The best time of the year for all
was when the Poet King would call
his people to the palace moat
to hear what local authors wrote.

Each writer stood upon the pass
and read out to the eager mass.
Each clever word was well received.
Each story plot would be believed.

Though no one format would prevail
t’would often be the children’s tale
adored the most by young and old,
ahat mad applause once it was told!

But oh the year when Darkness came!
It set each poet’s work aflame.
It cursed the tongues so not a word
of rhyming verse was ever heard!

The people willed their words to come
but all were struck completely dumb!
The Poet King called forth his men
to slay the force that stilled the pen.

They rode through valley, glen and plain,
the wicked source to ascertain.
No matter what the soldiers tried
it was no use! Their rhyme had died!

And just when Hope at last had stood,
about to leave the town for good
Akeem, a boy, declared to know
how they could make the evil go.

“We must profess our love of rhyme!
We use the language all the time,
but others think it’s silly rot.
We have to show them it is not!”

“Akeem has rhymed!” the people cheered.
“The Darkness too has disappeared!
Let’s listen to this clever boy
and spread the word of rhyming joy!”




Saturday, August 12, 2017

Looking through some old pieces I wrote - some nonfiction, some fiction - and came across this one.

Uncharted Territory

When years ago
my ship set sail
rough waters ruled the way.
With frequent squalls
and thunderstorms,
my skies were colored grey.

But that was when
my helm was steered
by someone else's hands,
who never had
the kinds of skills
such seamanship demands.

Yet through those rough
and rugged seas
one vision kept me moored -
the dream to see
my words in print's
what kept my feet on board.

Then over time
when I took hold
and got my bearings straight,
I charted then
a different course,
one I could navigate.

I sailed along
life's ebb and flow,
rode steady with the tide,
kept out of way
of troubled waves,
held fast to leeward side.

Now decades past,
the waters calm
that dream's still in my sight -
to have the
opportunity
to share the words I write.