Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

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!


PS: The word for January is YEAR.

70 comments on “Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

  1. William, for some quirk, your lovely poem lost its way to be posted so I cut and pasted it for you here. Thank you for sending it! DLH


    Hollow tall tree withering old with grace
    a monument growing there do you know
    all these years lasting in one special place
    we carved our initials there to show

    with a heart plus and arrow
    just a sweet girl and her chosen fellow
    under spell of cupid marked a tree
    with our love for all to see

    William Joe Pyles

    • William Joe Pyles
      Your poem brought a nice memory to me. We had a nice park where all the kids went and spent the afternoon. All ages of kids played together at that time. My brother Bob was four years older them me and I was about eleven when this happened. One day he told me this tree was a cork tree and cut a piece of it off for each of those gathered around him. We always saw the hearts and initials cut into tree trunks. Thanks for bringing this time back to me.

  2. Year King

    They chose you for the year king,
    those prime days around the sun,
    where you were both feted and fated,
    killed at year’s end,
    your body parts strewn between the fields
    to make the crops grow.
    Perhaps we should treat our presidents
    in this same way,
    Less distress,, less mess,
    fewer volunteers for the job,
    and no more insurrections.

    ©2022 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

  3. Starry Night, Crooked Moon
    By Linda Boyden ©2014, 2022

    On a starry night above the bay
    we gaze at the moon,
    night sky’s crooked smile,
    while tender breezes play,
    tickles skin
    tumbles hair.

    Your arm around my shoulders
    pulls me tight,
    my arm around your waist replies.

    We have no need of words,
    our bodies so attuned.
    We pledged our love years ago,
    when we were young and immortal
    and never considered
    growing old and dying.

    Now here beneath the starry sky
    we smile at the crooked moon,
    the bay lapping at our toes,
    our bodies bending
    under the weight of age,
    our love soaring to the stars.

  4. It is the year of:

    The Light “Lord of Lords”

    Abba “Father”

    El Shaddai “Yahweh”
    Jehovah Adonai

    God Jesus “Yeshua”
    Christ “the Annointed”
    “Khristos in Greek

    Alpha & Omega
    Healer in Latin

    “Deus” the Latin Word
    “Domine Deus” Romanian

    Bog in Slavic languages
    Allah “the god”

    “to Him belong the best named”

    the most merciful

    Khuda God “Tangri “Allah in Turkey
    “Hu”means revealed

    Bahai Faith Almighty
    “All possessing, all powerful ,all wise”
    Incomparable Gracious Helper
    All glorious Omniscient
    All glorious expressed in Arabic:
    the complete incarnation of names and attributes of God

King above in Chinese
    Zhu Lord in Heaven

    Maykapaly Creator
    Bathala “God Almighty”

    N Kosi King
    Rastafari Jehovah

    Basque “Jaun “the Lord
    Mormon Elohaim
    Jehovah Witnesses “He causes to become”

    Islam: Allah the God
    Muslums “to Him belong the best names”
    Ar-Rahim the most merciful

    Ancient of Days
    Dominus Deus
    All glory to you
    in 2022!

    to see illustration, go to


    New Year dawns
    Pink around the edges,
    Pink as a kitten’s nose,
    Pink as cotton candy,
    Pink as binding on a baby blanket–
    An arc of pink,
    Rising like

    Jane Hetiman Healy, c 2022

  6. Another Year Poem

    Aother year does not
    make me taller,
    make me me sweeter,
    make me faster,
    make me stronger,
    make me smarter,
    and it definitely does not
    make me younger.
    So I am asking, Mr. Year King,
    ‘is there anything you can do for me
    this time?

    ©2021 Jane Yolen

  7. Happy New Year!

    It used to begin in September.
    I’d walk on the first day, Happy New Year!
    My Jewish friends would either say,
    thank you, or ask if I was Jewish,
    but it wasn’t Yom Kippur yet…

    On Yom Kippur, I would say,
    Happy New Year! And my colleagues
    would either say, I thought you weren’t Jewish,
    or thank you, or look at me like I was crazy.

    Then came the first day after Christmas break
    Happy New Year! I would call.
    That they got.
    Until February,
    when I would call, Happy New Year
    wear my Chinese-red jacket,
    dragon opera boots and celebrate.

    In March, I would have my own green parade
    on St. Pat’s Day, even though it wasn’t a new year.
    It was time for a celebration.
    All through the rest of the year,
    I would adorn myself in the holiday,
    and just celebrate.
    The kids always got it.

    Every day is a new beginning.
    Every day starts a new year.

    © Linda Trott Dickman

  8. The Gala

    The year the impala went to the gala,
    the deer and the antelope played
    on castanet spoons. They tapped fancy tunes
    as the llamas sashayed and swayed.

    The year the impala went to the gala
    with coats they shampooed and blew,
    the goats gaily danced, the sheep primped and pranced
    and the antelope waltzed with the gnu.

    Gazelle’s did excel at the tango.
    The wolves did an awesome foxtrot.
    The birds in the air did twirls with such flair,
    the savanna was sizzling hot.

    The year the impala went to the gala
    beneath the candelabra tree
    was the first and the last, in all of its past,
    and a memorable year for me.

    (c) 2022 Susan Bickel

  9. Hoarder Haiku

    Clutter fills the house
    Years of sales and memories
    Something has to change

    *Not for me, but for people I love. This haiku jumped into my head, and needed to come out!

  10. . 2 2 / 1 / 2 2 .
    (Missing Mom)

    Two years this day.
    A blink.
    A long while.
    Time passes.
    Stands still.

    She’s ‘elsewhere’
    She’s here.
    Ever present―

    Cory Corrado (2022) ©

  11. Word of the Month Poem
    January 2022 Word: YEAR

    Janet Kay Gallagher

    I’m writing my third book
    Amazon here I come!
    Oh, the plans I have
    I’ll work hard to get them done

    In August I’ll turn eighty
    People will look at me and see an old lady
    I’ll look at them and giggle and enjoy
    all the active fun things we old ladies do

    As I go through this year
    I’ll create new ways to be happy
    Share old memories and make new ones
    Love family and friends

    This will be the best year ever
    Reading, writing, playing cards and dominos
    Meeting new people and being an encourager
    Then the following year will become the best year ever

    In the coming year my love
    I will bring you breakfast in bed once a week,
    Even though you never bring me mine.
    When suffering from man-flue, though I feel like death,
    I will tell you I am fine.
    When you look bedraggled and weary,
    I will tell you you look quite divine.
    When you are playing patience, I won’t butt in
    And point out the eight goes on the nine.
    I promise each day to tell you
    I love you, come rain or come shine,
    Because I do.

    Bryn Strudwick

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s