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 October is OLD.
WOM Old
Smells
Virginia Lowe
What I smell of:
swimming pool water
hidden farts
old woman
What I can’t smell:
old woman
hidden farts
swimming pool
freesias, violets
scented lilies
basil, lemon
The senses fade
Smell goes first
taking taste with it
It could be worse
I know how violets
and basil
used to smell
And I could easily
be dead
instead…
Then I couldn’t smell at all
but I’d smell even worse
OK this gets my vote for best poem ever on David’s blog, Virginia. Love it!!!
Thanks Jane – glad you enjoyed it! Virginia
Hi, Virginia. Thanks for getting us off to such a great start in October. The bar looks pretty high from here!
Such a candid look at old. You are one brave poet!
Not brave so much as truthful, i like to think. You might as well face up to all the phases of life… Virginia
As they say, aging ain’t for sissies! Virginia, this is so evocative. Makes me want to sit and ponder it for a while.
I love this!
Virginia L
Thanks for the laughs.
Virginia: I second Jane’s response! I have noticed that things don’t taste the same anymore… coffee sometimes… and apricots, which I loved, don’t taste like they did… and tomatoes. Growing old ain’t all it’s cracked up to be…
Well of course i didn’t write it on the spot.It was a couple of years ago, in the Creative Writing class i take for oldies (like us!). Thanks for giving us a challange each month. it’s fun! Virginia
Please go to ;
https://thevibrantchanneledcreator.wordpress.com/2020/10/01/old/
to see the poem and illustration for “Old”
Jeanne P
You always create something fun.
On Getting Old
Old ears,
old knees,
old eyes,
new wheeze.
Old clothes,
old tastes,
old thoughts,
new waist.
Old car,
old trends,
Best of all?
New friends!
Susan,
This is lovely. I love the positive ending!
Thank you!
I really liked the subtle rhymes and the twist ending, Susan!
Thank you, Linda!
Thank you, Susan. This was based on my former mother-in-law. She wasn’t a real pleasant person until she got dementia. I would visit her in the home that she was in and she thought I was her deceased sister Dorothy. I’m glad I had this opportunity.
Hey, that’s ME!
Susan H
You have a neat way of handling old.
Old Hat
Your feathers long, black, once bejeweled
droop now with aged elegance
Your form still holds well,
a tribute to your milliner
Your color faded with many stories
atop the head of that
sparkly brown eyed cobbler’s daughter
Who was anything but…
Old Hat
by Linda Trott Dickman
Love the descriptions and the fun ending, Linda
Thank you Linda. It was about my mom. I still have the hat she made!
Linda T D
This would make a good story. I can imagine some of her antics.
Love it! Hats say so much about us…
Jane posted her loving/lovely poem on the front page and with her permission I’m also bringing it here. Thank you, old friend. XO
Jane Yolen
OCTOBER 1, 2020 @ 9:11 AM EDIT
To An Old Friend
Not old, but necessary,
Not old but new found,
Not old but full of knowledge.
Not old but still around.
xxxJANE, YOUR OLD FRIEND
©2020 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
As always, Jane’s poem does not disappoint.
That knocks the age right out of old. Nice!
Jane Y
The important things.
Treasure: Mom’s old bell
Dinner! announced long ago
Carefree, joy-filled days
by Marge Waldschmidt
Marge, how well I remember our dinner bell! Thanks for this short but sweet poem.
We had a dinner bell! It was given to my folks for their wedding. Thank you for the poem and the memory!
Haikus are my favorite for…so much packed in!
Thank you all for the positive comments. I thought I would give haiku a try. I am glad it was recognized as one 🙂
Marge W
Memory is a wonderful gift. We didn’t have a bell but your words brought happy thoughts.
Old Apple Tree
By Linda Boyden ©2015,©2020
“In the shade of the old apple tree…”
she sang under her breath,
rocking back and forth on her bed,
or side to side in her wheelchair
while she stared out the window,
hair spilling to her shoulders
long white waves.
She’d scream if anyone touched her,
anyone but me, her rheumy eyes
locked on mine, one trembling hand
gripped my wrist, “Dorothy,” she named me,
then sing, “In the shade of…”
and would not let me go until I finished,
“…the old apple tree.”
That was my cue to get her brush.
My co-workers dubbed her Crazy Old Bat,
avoided her like taxes or the flu.
I don’t know but there was something special,
something hidden inside that frail body
that only came out with that song
while I brushed her long hair
while she looked out of the window.
Linda – I worked as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home right out of high school to earn money for college. Your poem took me right back to that summer! The “ornery” patients were always my favorites. I discovered that most of them just needed someone to care about them and give them a few minutes of love. I learned so much that summer!
Oh Linda! Hair spilling to her shoulders… so beautiful.
Thanks!
Linda B
This is great and also sad. You never know what interesting lives some of these people in nursing homes have lead.
That is so true, Janet. Thanks so much.
Wonderful how something unnamed clicked between you two… thanks!
Thanks, Karen!
Word of the Month Poem
October 2020
Word : OLD
I DON’T CLAIM OLD AGE
Janet Kay Gallagher
Our Jewels Brunch Group
Meets on Wednesdays at Sheila’s Place
Someone always mentions an ache or pain
Another says, “That’s old age.”
I say, “I don’t claim old age.
I’ve had aches and pains since I was a small child.”
Someone says, forgetfulness.
“I don’t claim it. Whatever I forgot will pop back in soon. And it does.”
Each year at birthday time
I say “I plan to live another thirty years”
Let’s see seventy-eight plus thirty…
I’m to young to claim old age
Love your last line, Janet!
Linda B
Thanks.
A SOBERING THOUGHT
That’s the fourth cremation I’ve been to this year
And it’s barely the middle of May.
I suppose it’s what one has to expect,
Approaching the end of one’s day.
We’re none of us getting younger
And the one thing in life that’s certain,
Is that, sooner or later, our play will end
And they’ll bring down the final curtain.
Today it was Charlie Mottram,
Who I’d known since I was ten.
Strange to think I’ll never see
Or speak to Chas again.
We had a bet in our twenties
About who’d have the longest innings.
But, although I’ve won, he’s had the last laugh;
He’s gone to his grave with my winnings.
So, one by one, they’re shuffling off
And, as they’d a right to expect,
I’ve been to all their funerals
To pay them my respects.
But I had a sobering thought today
As I raised my glass of wine.
I’m willing to bet, when my time comes,
Not one of them will come to mine.
Bryn S
You had me about to cry then you added : I’m willing to bet, when my time comes,
Not one of them will come to mine.
That was a laugh out loud line. Thanks for a good start to my day.
REPLY
Leave a Reply
Sobering… yes. Thanks for the sparkle at the end.
That IS a sobering thought. I really enjoyed reading this.
My Old Friend Samson
My old friend Samson,
Was once young and free,
He was mischievous,
As a small puppy.
Time passed so quickly,
He grew older than me,
Before I knew it, he was,
Approaching seventy.
Spent twelve years together,
We seldom were apart,
When I lost my old friend,
It truly broke my heart.
toninewell
It’s odd how dogs age so fast. May your heart mend. Enjoy your memories of your old friend.
It is devastating to lose a beloved dog. You’ve really captured the emotion with this poem.
Thank you Linda.
Thank you. I do enjoy my memories. They are wonderful memories but occasionally bring tears. Thank you.
I see that people are still posting so I will finally add mine that I wrote exactly a week ago. It’s my first time doing this and it was a lot of fun! I’m posting it below, but I will have it on my website too. And I’m planning to post some other ones as well. So far they are hiding in my notebook.
“That Body in the Mirror”
Now too old
too wrinkly
too crinkly
too raisin
Years stretch like a gum
Life pokes its fun
The taste is less and less
Too much of this
Not enough of that
Till it’s time to say goodbye
And spit it out
But not yet
Not here
Not now
I am still too young
I need to age a little longer
Because I am
like wine
(c)2020 Anna Maledon
all right reserved
Anna M
Glad you joined us. It is a fun place. Glad you are aging like a fine wine.
Welcome aboard! So much in this clever poem resonates with me! Hope you will continue posting monthly poems, Anna.
Anna, you’ve captured aging in this quietly powerful poem.
Getting Old
Skin takes its own journey,
It isn’t taut any more,
Hair thins as forehead bears
Creases earned over time.
A slender waist expands
Bosoms greet a navel,
Tender hips and knees,
Arthritis here and there,
Failing sight, a little deaf,
There’s so much more to share.
Looking in the mirror,
She ponders her reflection,
It’s hard to recognize herself,
She wonders if it’s really her,
For in her mind she still is,
The girl she left behind.
Toni N
Thanks for the share. I always see the good looking me in the mirror. Others I know see the wrinkled me.
I love that you focus on the good looking you! What a wonderful inspiration 🙂
Oh, so true, Toni N. both the descriptions of how our bodies change and then leaving us with that poignant ending.
Thank you Linda for your lovely comment.
Thank you. I can already see that you are someone that always sees the glass half full rather than half empty. A wonderful place to come from. Don’t ever change.
toninewell
Thanks.
I lost the guide for posting a poem,Entered one, but it didn’t take. Do I post in this block?
A Tree Remembered
Once, while coursing the rim
of a deep canyon wall,
I viewed an old solitary pine
clinging bravely to the brink
above the canyon.
oh, the the smooth youth bark was gone,
its limbs twisted against the wind,
foot roots losing their good
grip in the soil.
but, still, its stance was tall,
and was aware of eagles soaring,
Jays bickering in the scrub,
cleft hooves clinching granite walls,
the extremes of seasons:
hell hot and crackling cold.
I mused at the splendid sight and moved on,
moved on to spin the years as best I could,
just rock skipping over the persistent stream.
But, now that I’m old and bald,
I ponder on truth ignored and unrecognized.
I know now that the old tree was not a metaphor,
that it was exactly a tree, not like anything else,
it was a partner in the puzzling matrix of life;
the standard bearer for daisies and fields of wheat.
And I say: for god’s sake honor it.
I have not returned to that old tree’s home, but surely
time and fatigue have sent this giant to the canyon floor,
its bones returned to earth’s grasp, as all bones must;
and in memory, when the old tree comes to mind, I will gently
touch my hat or tap my chest.
10/23/2020
gene89
“in memory, when the old tree comes to mind, I will gently
touch my hat or tap my chest.”
A memory that brings that type of response is special.
Gene: Yes, for God’s sake, honor it! Thanks for this. It brings the brink to mind, but honors it.
An honorable dedication to one great life-force. Thank you, from the bottom of my forester’s heart!
Wow, Gene, what a great way to pay homage to this once magnificent tree. It’s a beautiful and moving poem.
Gene, I can see and feel your beautiful, old weathered tree and so enjoyed inter-being with its’ life in the high canyon. What a perfect setting for your memories.
Almost Imperceptibly
when did my hair pale
my eyes dim
my laugh grow loud
almost imperceptibly
in the slow speed of earth’s spin
until I saw my reflection laid bare —
swirling eddies of cheek smiles
creased crevices of uncertainties
chin held high against the coming wind
Sarah R
You have captured the truth. Our world moves so fast and yet all of these subtle changes sneak up on us over a slow time period.
OOooo, honesty undresses me – mirror, mirror!
Sarah, you’ve captured the reality of aging in this. I like the last line in particular.
I especially like your last line, Sarah.
Dear Star
Shining, twinkling star,
How old are you? How far?
Are you still there or do I see
the remnants of your old glory?
Your pinpoint light among them all
does not make me feel very small.
I catch your wink through vast wide space
and feel that I too have a place.
(c) 2020 Susan Bickel, all rights reserved
Susan B
This is lovely.
Susan… I love this musing about old glory. Thanks so much!
I, too, have a place…just what I needed to hear. Thanks!
After All
After N-95s ran out
And downloaded patterns
Paired with quilting leftovers had
Limited luck
After more downloads
And cannibalized t-shirts
Sewed by machine
With coffee filter inserts
Which we never inserted
After a purchased set by Hanes
White face diapers
And Halloween orange ones
Paper, discardable…
After sweaty faces
Fogged-up glasses
Pimples on chins
And forgetting altogether
After
Masks with political jibes
Masks as gifts
Expressing general cynicism
After such a
Sense of the impersonal
After inscrutability
Not to mention doubt
I must say
This is getting old
And I must say
I want out.
© Karen Eastlund
Yes, so much is getting old.
kareneastlund4898
I agree. “This is getting old
And I must say
I want out.”
Ditto!
Old changes everything.
What’s new is old before you know it.
Old becomes new. It’s a different view.
Old can be like a precious stone — solid and beautiful,
sometimes fades away but is remembered.
Old can be a teacher.
Old – a thing, a place, a space in time –
is forever priceless.
Even if some kinds of old feel
like an insult to our minds and bodies,
treasure or foe, embrace,
and hold on for the ride.
I LOVE how this poem sums itself up in the first and last lines:
Old changes everything. Hold on for the ride!
Thank you, Janine
Old can definitely be a teacher. Thanks for sharing, Karen.
Thank you Linda
Robin W
” hold on for the ride.” Says it all. Sometimes you think you are having a bull ride though.
that’s for sure! Janet
Hold on for the ride indeed. Thanks, Robin, Sometimes the ride has a wonderful coda, as I have found, now into my second year with my old/new love Peter, me at 81 he at 83. Both poets, teachers. Last dated….in college.
Jane Y
Glad you found each other again.
Thank you, Janine
You’re welcome. I’m so glad you have rediscovered each other. That’s a beautiful thing. .I just hope a lot of us can have a good ride like yours
agreed, Jane
I too at 80 have a coda in faith, poetry, parenting and an extended village to raise the children!
awesome!Jeanne
old comfort
In these days
unprecedented it’s said
all that’s new
seems oddly wrought
with treachery
and hatred the lot
Today I pinned
old photos enlarged
of better times
beautiful nature and faces
determined to find
better places
We’ll see how
that all works out
over the days
and the weeks ahead
inspired to help
my kids out of bed
10/28/2020 (c)Janine Clark-Barry
Janine: I have resorted to the same… old photos to bring comfort and joy… to enliven the day… Well… this too shall pass, as they say. Thanks for all…
I’m glad to be in such good company Karen!
Janine C-B
May we all find better places and comfort. Thanks for the reminder.
Yes Janet, may we all!
At times like these, I find comfort retreating into the realm of the beautiful where love and joy dwell and my spirit soars, so I can spread another energy into the world, and I pray. Thank you, Janine.
With three teenagers hanging by a tense thread, beautiful places evade my grasp, but hope is tenacious. Someone warned me about having kids only 2 years apart about 18 years ago, but who knew we’d be in this situation back then? I will try to find some beauty soon and rest there Cory, thank you.
OLD AS TIME
calling all colors
warm, fiery, bold, hot
temp’rature’s dropping
autumn is falling
Cory Corrado (2020) ©
……………………………………
MAIDENHAIR TREE
awe-tumn sage
fan leaves of old
warm golden silk glow
Cory Corrado (2020) ©
Cory C
I love the way you describe this beautiful time of year.
For sure! Janet !