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 August is QUESTION.
Why, why why?
You always ask this question –
A steady stream of “why?”
I often cannot answer,
So sometimes give a lie.
This question gets annoying,
But doesn’t bother you!
The world is full of questions
When you are only two!
Susan H
So cute. Do children have a Why gene?
So totally true! Thanks for reminding me of my early parenting days.
Ah–those lies we told our 2year olds. . . .
I remember those “steady stream of why” days! I like your three-“why” title!
Question Mark
It’s a long a mark of query,
Teapot of desire,
That sings as the highest
True voice in the choir.
A note of demand,
And a wonder of who,
A what deep in meaning,
A wistful of brew.
It’s an ask,, not an answer,
A voice of provoke.
A wheel full of wonder
With a single long spoke.
It’s an itch without scratching.
A cup brimmed with whine.
A try at a difference
Between yours and mine.
Not a state or a statement,
But where, when, and who.
The poke that demands
Is it me…is it you?
(:>
Jane Y
So good. I really liked your line.
“A cup brimmed with whine.”
Lots to think about, Jane. Beautiful phrasing.
Word of the Month Poem
August 2019 word: Question
By Janet Kay Gallagher
Why?
The question is why?
Some questions are easy to answer
Why do I have to do that?
Because I am your mother and I said so.
Why is that bird red and the other one blue?
Because God who created them made them those colors.
Why didn’t the car start?
Because the battery is dead.
There are times when there is no answer to why.
When we are so stressed and have no answers.
Why did he or she die?
Why couldn’t they be healed?
Sometimes there is no answer to why, this side of heaven
where we will understand it all.
Accept what happens and don’t ask why
Answer the questions you can and release the others.
The eternals, Janet. Jane
Very true, and hard to do, to accept what happens and not ask why. Thanks, Janet.
Journey
By Linda Boyden ©2019
I cried
until the foothills disappeared.
This willful abandon of all I desire:
musky sage, rolling earth,
the weight of your breath
on my shoulder while we slept.
The jet engines roar into life,
drags me along, trapped in steel,
fragile dust in comparison.
Below me,
dull browns,
stale greens,
thick blacks,
return my blank stare,
as clouds glide
by the window in tandem.
Periodically, the engines accelerate
into frightful spasms,
like a dragon’s fitful slumber.
I question trusting a machine:
I wonder about the sensation
of plunging from this altitude.
No warning, just an abrupt
free-fall to my death,
No steadfast cancerous march
to eternity then;
only a searing separation from life,
exactly like the pain of
leaving you behind.
Linda B
WOW is all I can think to say. And reread it.
Thank you so much, Janet.
Whosh! That’s a tough one.–JaneY
Thanks, Jane.
This is lovely, Linda… and very heavy. I feel it… Good job.
Thanks, Karen, life is sometimes difficult.
What a powerful poem! Life is quite a ride.
So very true, thanks, mbhmaine.
My poem:
Question
every mystery is a question ?
every sound a query ?
every person inimitable ?
every abyss a darkness ?
every chasm a path ?
every molecule a morph ?
embrace the period at the bottom ?
ride the hook on top ?
swing up; flip it! discover !
love this, Jeanne.
If you’d like to see the illustration for this, please go to: https://thevibrantchanneledcreator.wordpress.com/2019/08/02/question/
Jeanne P
You’ve done it again. I enjoy the photos and pictures you incorporate with your words so much. Thanks.
So glad I met you and have your picture on my desktop. The shape of you and your poems are a delightful taste, Janet.
dear David:
so glad your found the flowing hair, grabbed it with your fists and inhaled the woman scent. Thank you Capetown scribe for the sensual sand. https://thevibrantchanneledcreator.wordpress.com/2013/12/22/calligrapher/
WOM: Question!
BBC question time, comes to our screens
Broadcast in Britain
it has to be seen
Guest speakers challenged through public debate
Subjected to questions on topics of late
We just want straight answers
They don’t always please
A gang of five figures, political MP’s
One’s a comedian & then there’s the rest
They represent parties, electing the best
Their opponents confront one another with words
Cackling and jibing, it’s highly absurd
We want to believe that they care about us
Society, civilians, the homeless lose trust
Justice is fought for but how can we win
With Brexit, God help us
The troubles begin
In the words of John Lennon
I hear his words sung
I too wish that one day
the world live as one
Jane B
I like your poem. We do want straight answers but I don’t think we get very many of them.
So true! Thank you:)
The Question
Cory Corrado (2019) ©
When I turn off the lights,
there’s nowhere to hide,
Just me.
And my thoughts.
And the dark.
All alone.
Are we friends?
Cory
Neat question. I wonder how many people stop and ask that of themselves. What a great feeling when you can answer, Yes.
Love it, Cory. Thanks!!!
Very interesting thought Cory
?
The ascent behind us,
I see us now
traversing the gentle downward slope
of the everlasting question.
Feeling, these days,
as if the free fall
will come sooner
rather than later.
This inevitable curving descent has begun,
faster than we ever imagined,
speeding to that final hiccup
of empty space
and
then
the
final
resting
place.
Molly Hogan ©2019
Molly H
That is the big question that covers it all, When, Where, Why and How.
Questions Questions
I have so many questions
running
around
rampant in my mind,
pushing and shoving to be first!
I hope my head doesn’t
burst!
Why what and how — they all
want to be “the question”…….
Now!
My head is exhausted! I can hardly
think
from all those questions making a ruckus!
Then the Why question
calmly and quietly, jumps in –
“Why are you so flustered?
You know you’d be lost without us!”
I say, with relief,
“You’re right.”
Robin W
You’re right.
So true to life, thanks for this poem.
UNREQUITED LOVE
(An acrostic sonnet
Unhappiness is mine, the end is nigh.
No hope of joy, now she has gone away.
Restless nightmares find me wondering why;
Each day the skies are dark and grey.
Quite why she turned me down I do not know;
Unanswered questions swirl around my head.
I have to ask, why did she hurt me so?
There was no need for all the things she said.
Each friend has sage advice along the way.
Don’t worry, one day you’ll find love that’s true;
Love sometimes can be very cruel they say.
Out there are many other girls for you.
Very soon the pain will ease, I’m told.
Especially as I’m only eight years old
Bryn Strudwick
Bryn S
At 8 years old there are a thousand Whys to come.
Growing up is full of Whys. This is wonderful, Bryn.