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 a June is SEEDS.
Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog 
I thought I did post a poem, but it is missing as are the others. What happened?
I have no idea, Linda!!!! I can’t begin to understand how this whole page could be wiped clean. For me, once a month when I delete everything to make way for the new series of poems, it’s slow work that is done one poem or comment at a time. For this to happen on it’s own? I haven’t a clue! I’ll seek help from Word Press. It’s all I know to do. Meantime, if you still have your poem, please repost it and we’ll do the best we can to reconstructive this months roster. So sorry!
My friend the old man next door
Mr. Strain lived in the boarding house next door
two rooms on side with a porch looking out
one door and window on first floor
growing up next to where he lived I know
He had three burner gas stove with a little cook top
stove had a small oven he used
to bake apple pies
Outside a cylinder gas tank copper line fed stove
I would worry it might explode
when his match flamed burners whiff pop
watched with my big eyes
In yard out his door was small apple tree grove
Mr. Strain cooked those apples
I would watch him peel them
with his two blade pocket knife
Throwing away seeds core and stem
then he would cook them
and offer me a bite
He was fine to live this way
kitchen was lighted by an open bulb light
could see his shadow when he sat out on porch at night
never heard him complain he would just say
Joe, you want some fried apples
I made them today
I know he was poor and slim
but every apple I eat to core
reminds me of Mr. Strain still
standing in his door
inviting me to eat apples with him
William Joe Pyles
Thank you, William. I am delighted to see you back.
William J P
Nice memory.
That is how people were when I was growing up.
I was reminded of a few who impressed me.
What a beautiful poem/story. I can see the illustrations!
What a poignant memory, so well described. Thank you, William.
This is so beautiful. Thanks for sharing!
This is a fine picture, WJP. You have painted an image I will remember.
The Tomato King
He was armed, salt shaker in his back
pocket, on a pre-dinner mission
for his mom. He started at the end
of the row, picking carefully,
being choosy. The scent of the stem
being separated from the fruit,
unmistakeable. Pull out the salt shaker,
lick, take a bite.
Oh the feel of the piercing
of the flesh against his teeth,
sinking deeply, taking that first bite.
Down the row he went,
a little less picky this time,
pick, lick, salt, bite. Seeds escaping
over his tanned fingers. To the next
plant. This was a nice crop.
An especially nice crop. Step,
next plant, one tomato in the basket,
another one in the boy. Pick two,
eat one, pick one, eat two. Eat three.
The seeds, dripping down
His red checkered shirt,
barely noticeable,, except where
It stained the white squares.
He ended the row basket and belly full.
Dinner was on time, tomatoes
Enough to fill, satisfied.
copyright Linda Trott Dickman
Linda T D
Sounds like pure joy with wonderful tomatos.
Thank you Janet!
Abundance and satiety, a sensuous description that tomato lovers know. Thank you, Linda
Linda, this made me smell the tomatoes! Delightful!
You’re right, Linda, the scent of tomato vine is unmistakeable. The seeds on his shirt, the breaking of the skin… all a wonderfully limned picture. Thank you!
(oops! typo!)
The seeds
see the nucleus
the nucleus the
cell
the cell sees the
breath
of spirit energy
origin of
life
the circle of
light
the beating of
love
’til
eternity.
all rights
Jeanne Poland
Jeanne P
I really enjoy your links you post with your poems. So beautiful. Also enjoyed Pope Francis words too.
Right to the essence of things themselves! Well done, Jeanne.
Just beautiful!
Please go to my blog to see the poem with its illustration: https://thevibrantchanneledcreator.wordpress.com/2022/06/14/see-the-kingdom-of-god/
This poem is doing double duty, also posted at Margaret Simon’s “Reflections on the Teche” blog to accompany the photo there: https://reflectionsontheteche.com/2022/06/15/this-photo-wants-to-be-a-poem-release/
So–imagine a fuzzy dandelion seed–
PERSPECTIVE
Do you see a weed
Or a wish?
Debris
Or a seed?
Seeds can grow
Into wishes come true.
It’s up to you.
c2022 Jane Heitman Healy
Jane H H
You got it right. What we see is up to us.
Exactly! My husband believes dandelions are weed, but I don’t. I see them as wishes,
Word of the month
June 2022 WORD: SEEDS
Dandelions
Janet Kay Gallagher
I drive us down the road
Betty Jo, Carolyn and I
I see dandelions
And say, “see the beautiful flowers.”
Carolyn says, “Weeds, weeds, weeds.”
I say, “Flowers.”
This goes several rounds
Betty Jo rolls her eyes at us
I see flowers
Carolyn sees weeds
We laugh as we go along
Betty Jo sees her friends being silly
If it weren’t for seeds
We’d have no flowers
Or Weeds
What fun we would miss
Just like my husband and me! This is a fun poem!
Sun thaws frozen soil.
Patiently waiting for soft ground
seeds grow under lights,
Stars glimmer, shimmer.
Hidden by clouds, light unseen.
Seeds sprout under soil.
This is so sweet!
AuthorYvonafast
I like both of these.
starting seeds with lights and underground and they both work.
I really enjoyed these seed poems!
Vagabond
By Linda Boyden©2022
They sprouted in mystery.
Two solitary seeds fell
on rock-encrusted soil
beyond the sprinkler’s swell.
Without any tender toil,
one perished and the other
grew from possibility
into reality, first a leaf then two,
thrived among lesser weeds;
flourished through the nights,
a lofty vagabond that seemed
immune to drought or blight,
defied the odds and grew.
I stand apart and gaze
at the wonder of its grace.
Linda B
Seeds do contain miracles.
You’re so right.
Our friend, Bryn Strudwick, continues to be blocked for reasons I still haven’t figured out. I’m grateful to Bryn for his patience while he waits and writes. Here is his June poem. Thank you, Bryn!
SUNFLOWER
(An Acrostic)
Something magical happens every year,
Under the bird table I built out here.
Not from something that I do,
Food for the wild-life holds the clue.
Loading his beak too full through greed,
One sparrow drops a sunflower seed,
Whereupon it takes root where it lies.
Every day I watch it rise,
Reaching up towards the skies.
by Bryn Strudwick
Beautiful!
Bryn S
Sunflowers are so beautiful.
Hi everyone,
Bryn sent me sunflower picture by his feeder and wondered if I can somehow post the picture with his poem. There may be a way, not sure, but I think I can repost his poem and add the picture to blog post. I’ll try, Bryn. Wish me luck.
Planting Seeds
Create life and beauty
Flowers to watch for hours and smell
Blown everywhere
Dropped anywhere to share
Stay in one place, sprout and grow
So many ideas
Seeds
So true!
Robin Williams
Your poem reminded me of a packet in clear plastic that I found. Only a few seeds. I didn’t know what kind they were. When planted I still wondered if they would grow and what they would be. Finally, a beautiful rose-colored flower. Then I remembered who gave them to me and had another beautiful time of remembrance of someone gone long ago. Thanks for bringing those thought back to me.
Thank you. I’m glad you had some good memories
I want to thank all of you who write and read here.
Words open our hearts to the beauty that surrounds us and the people who touch our lives. So many times, the words I read here will spark a thought and remind me of a time long forgotten. Thanks for sharing life with me. Be Happy.
A New Beginning
Life can be challenging
In many different ways
We all make choices
Which our future displays.
Sometimes we are lucky
If someone plants a seed
Creating a new vision
From which our soul can feed.
Toni Newell 13th June, 2022.
HOP AWAY DREAMS
Tender fresh leaflets,
offspring of promise hope and gold dreams
basking in sunny June breezes,
how sad chagrined torn up you must feel―
to be, in one bunny-brief moment, sniff-sniffed and cut down
Nevermore to grow tall and turn toward the sun
never to bow petal-fringed faces, heavy laden with seed
never to giggle at goldfinch’s soft perch and plucking firm beaks
never to feel the tickle of butterflies and buzzing bees, sipping nectar-full wells
never to bliss along to sparrows’ summer sweet songs
How sad chagrined torn up we do feel―
bees butterflies birds and most of all―me―
my heart’s awash rippling with emotion
As Cottontail hops away, I visualize . . . glorious s u n f l o we r s
l e a p i n g and b o u n d i n g free,
seeing our beautiful world
through bunny-gentle
keen eyes
and
I
s m i l e
Cory Corrado (22/06/27) ©
I think I’ve finally managed to make a comment here
So glad! Happy to have you back, Bryn!
Still Green
Eat half an avocado.
Do not toss out the seed.
Though you will not be eating it
The seed is what you need
To keep the fruit from turning brown.
Nestle it in place,
And then enjoy the other half
Slowly at your pace.
June, 2022