Each month this blog will feature a word of the month to stimulate a poem. Anyone who wishes to share a poem is invited to participate. The point is to enjoy the challenge of writing a poem inspired by a single word. It doesn’t matter if this is your first poem or five hundredth. It’s all done for the fun and exercise of writing.
Cutoff for posting the current Word of the Month poem is the last day of the month.
On the first day of each month, a new word will be posted to challenge your imagination for that month.
Please post your poems on this page, so everyone can find the poems easily.
Thank you and have fun!
David
PS: The word for July is POEM.
POEM (PANTOUM)
It is the 2nd of July,
I have a poem in mind,
Not the usual poem,
One of a different kind.
I have a poem in mind,
It’s in a different form,
One of a different kind,
It’s not known as the norm.
It’s in a different form,
Can be tricky to write,
It’s not known as the norm,
The challenge can excite.
Can be tricky to write,
But if you give it a go,
The challenge can excite,
The poetic juices that flow.
Toni Newell 2nd July, 2021.
You tackled one that I always have to have the form in front of me to do. Wonderful!
Thank you. Linda, I find the form challenging but satisfying. I compare
it to the difference between a crossword and a cryptic crossword. I am glad you enjoyed it.
Fun, Toni! Yes, pantoum’s can be tricky! I enjoyed this.
Toni, this is delightful and very clever!
Thank you.
I Think I Could Be A Poem
By Linda Boyden©2014 ©2021
I think I could be a poem.
Nothing fancy
no sestina
no villanelle
no form to
slow
my flow.
I can
keep the
beat
rock
the rhyme
in time
in style,
make you
smile.
Lick my
words.
Take your time
to savor
the flavor
each bite
holds;
guaranteed to
curl your toes.
Yes, all things
considered
I could be a poem.
Linda, you are a poem! I love the play in this.
Very playful and a pleasure to read. Thank you.
Linda, no form but a rhythm and rhyme of your own (that rocks). Enjoyed this!
I’d like to resubmit my sister’s winning poem from 2009. (The W.O.M was thanks)
YOU’RE WELCOME
By Liz Korba
Alone.
A gift.
And free
Set free.
Perceive.
Receive.
Surprise!
(That’s why.)
Need met.
(No debt.)
How powerful!
How unlike prose!
At times
Alone
“Thanks”
Is a poem.
Beautiful. “Thanks” for sharing, Marge.
I didn’t follow this blog back when Liz was posting. I know some of her poems, but not the W.O.M. ones. Much appreciation.
A Question
By Marge Waldschmidt
Can a life be a poem?
A poem can be:
Inspiring
Compassionate
Encouraging
Strong
Clever
Wise
Emotional
Melancholy
Not perfect
Happy
Creative
Playful
Courageous
Passionate
Polite
Too short
Can a life be a poem?
Yes.
What a wonderful poem. And a lot to think about. Your is fun, your sister’s is as well.
I love poems about poems that make me think about more poems!
Yes. Yes. Yes.
🙂
In Plain Sight
In the crannies of a frond
At the edges of a pond
They hide in dandelion fireworks,
In a brand new puppy’s speicall quirks.
Written in moonless sky
By a cohort of poet fireflies.
They’re written in tne new mowed lawn
That shines with emeralds just past dawn
In the curl of pancake steam
A splash of syrup, a taste of dream
The bacon crackling in the pan
Cast iron joy, a breakfast plan
In chipmunk jowls, and bunny tails
In a western parade of quails
They hide right there in sight so plain
If you blink, a new one strains
Maybe form, maybe free
Verse from me, verse for you,
Those poems seeded in the night
Springing up in morning light.
©Linda Trott Dickman 2021
Thanks so much! It was fun to write.
Beautiful, Linda. I can see and feel the specific details.
Thank you, I hear you.
Ever feel the need to talk about a pooch that needed a new home. A little guy we rescued from the shelter so never felt the need, again to roam.
His first human passed away leaving him I’m sure to wonder what did I do wrong.
He was put in a shelter, sad and alone. Kept his head down and just followed along.
My bride saw his face on social media and fell in love. Like the words in a poem. We knew where he belonged.
He walked right into the house hopped up on the bed, you could tell by the look in his eyes. I’m here love me they said.
At night he sleeps on the floor by head of my bed. I’m thinking he doesn’t want me to wake up dead.
Of course by me being older I get up a lot. Buddy will go to the living room and lay on his pillow until I finish my trip to the pot.
When I lay back down he’s back by the bed making sure all is well in his world.
Heard a song the other day. I wish dogs live forever. I wonder if buddy thinks I wish humans live forever.
For now he brings comfort to my bride and I.
I’m sure dogs have a soul and when we all pass away we will meet again in the sweet by and by.
We had a rescue as well, he was loved but neglected. He lived in a high brow neighborhood, we live in a more middle class neighborhood. It took him some time to adjust to us, but the love grew and grew until he was troubled with a tumor. The love was such a gift! You helped us to see Buddy!
What a lovely portrayal of a wonderful pet.
Aw! Don! He’s lucky to have you (as you are to have him).
Having lost so many over time, I hope that is true. Brought tears to my eyes. Very moving and so true.
Throughout the ages, romantic poets have used poetry to woo their lovers. Unfortunately, for every successful romantic poet, there are hundreds of would-be poets, like me, trying the same tactic.
POEM FOR (FILL IN BLANK)
I wrote a poem long ago in nineteen sixty-three
To try to convey to a lady what she meant to me.
The lady’s name was Susan so I called it “Poem for Sue”
But alas it didn’t impress her and she moved to pastures new.
And then, in nineteen sixty-eight, I fell for Mary-Jane.
I changed the name in the title but suffered rejection again.
She told me she was flattered that I should write a verse,
But the rhymes left a lot to be desired and the rhythm was even worse.
I made a few adjustments and tried a few times more.
I’d changed the name a dozen times by nineteen eighty-four
The nineteen-nineties came and went, I was still a bachelor gay
(No please don’t misinterpret, I didn’t mean it that way)
Into the new millennium and I tried the older set;
Even if only to prove to myself there was life in the old dog yet.
I read the romantic poets to pick up some useful tips,
But only succeeded in adding to my pile of rejection slips.
And now, in my retirement home, I’ve met a lady called Rose.
The poem’s gone into the shredder. I’m wooing her with prose.
Bryn: Clever … as ever. Brought a smile. Thanks!
Gosh, Bryn, what a surprise ending! Delightful work.
Haha! Fun! And love the title.
If it was true, it made me sad, if it was purely poetic, well I was glad. Unrequited love is painful enough without enduring any other stuff.
Just so much fun and a poignant ending. Thank you for sharing!
On My Mind
Four o’clock in the morning,
I have a poem on my mind,
Not sure what it’s about,
I’m sort of writing it blind.
I need to make a start on it,
Whatever it might be,
Something that I need to say,
Is trying to escape from me.
I need to write it down,
I’m not sure what it is,
It’s got me in a spin,
My mind is in a tiz.
I want to write something,
Being silly, that I know,
But, the urge won’t leave me,
So where am I to go?
I’ll keep tapping on,
I’ll write about nothing,
Just words coming together,
Now it’s five in the morning.
Toni Newell 18th July, 2021.
Fun poem! Thanks.
Yes, I have felt the same. It’s like birthing, I think… for some people it’s easy, for some of us it is hours of labor. I like your poem, it expresses the labor well. And I didn’t state this here, but the poem I posted below has been incubating for years, and I’m still not happy with all of it.
Two W.O.M. poems in one month! Wow, Toni, you’re on a roll.
Sometimes a poem can be elusive.
Inspired by Toni and Linda. (While waiting for ‘the’ poem). Thank you.
PENNING THE ELUSIVE
Where is the poem I’m aiming to write
It’s day twenty one . . . I’m still nowhere
near done
Too many fresh starts revisions restarts
Firefly bits keep blinking in blinking out
Cannot tell which is which, what is what
Barely have time to pin a single phrase down
Wannabe poem’s on the wing
Gone-poof-in-a-flash
Clock’s ticking away minutes moments and month
I beg thee― perch, please settle alight―
An e f f u s i v e poem
I will joyfully
w r i t e !
Cory Corrado (21/07/21) ©
Cory… I love this. I just read that some poets rewrite over 100 times! So, you are not alone, and the sensations of frustration and insistence come across beautifully here. I hope all goes well with you…
Cory, this is a delight! I really like the “Firefly bits” part!
I like elusive/effusive. Fitting to write about writing a poem for this month.
Yes can relate to that
In my dreaming
Just near morning
At the very cusp
Of sleep
There are whispers
There are flutters
There is sighing
From the deep
There is stirring
In its passage
Like waves lapping
On a beach
Might this restlessness
This rhythm
Hold some magic
In its reach?
Do these whispers
signal fervor
Like a zephyr
In the gloom?
Could this cadence
Be a poem
Eager for its
Words to bloom?
© Karen Eastlund
Karen, well done! The rhythm caught me up right away. Love it.
It appears we are not the only ones. That’s where a notebook by the bed comes in handy. Enjoyed your rendition.
Karen, this poem has given me and all readers much to think about. Thanks.
a Poem called Poem
What I Have Learned So Far
Everything and everyone changes. Adapt.
Everyone has talents. Honor them.
I keep growing up, in and out… “Til eternity.
The exercise of choice is human. Share it.
Jeanne is her genes. in technicolor.
No balancing required when I’m on my bum.
Gravity is relative and just another form of energy.
There is never objectivity between men and women. They know each other too well.
What you pick up, you will put down in one form or another.
A poem never ends since it seeds in you and sprouts in spring.
Jeanne Poland
Love it, Jeanne. Especially the last line. And the first two. And the “Jeanne is her genes.in technicolor.”
Poetry
A poem
captures thoughts,
placing words
into lines,
squeezing words
into bars,
for observation.
Words can play
in the poem.
It’s when they dance
in your head,
they fly free.
They become
Poetry.
(c) 2021 Susan Bickel
An enjoyable read and so true. Thank you.
(When I pasted the poem, my formatting didn’t hold. My idea was to put in italic all the words I found along the way.)
Heading South on the Interstate
A Found Poem … Looking Out My Window
I
Useful Advice:
Stay Alert
Do Not Drive Into Smoke
Stop and Smell the Bacon
Avoid the Hassle
Rely On Experience
Quality Matters
Training is Essential
No littering
Play, Explore, Discover
Most useless advice in the 95+ heat:
Bridge
Ices Before
Road
II
Life:
One Way
Keep Right
Right Lane
Closed Ahead
Keep Left
Left Lane
Closed Ahead
Yield … Yield … Yield
Watch Out
No U Turn
No U Turn
No U Turn
Detour, Detour, Detour … Alt Route
Exit Ahead
Exit Here
Exit Now
End
Road Work