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 January is ZONE.
Please go to : for my poem and illustration:
https://thevibrantchanneledcreator.wordpress.com/2019/01/02/in-the-zone/
Meanwhile, here’s the poem:
zone of anxiety
I’m in the zone
of anxiety
here in the Northeast,
sleeping in the dark
searching for the light
flood zones
fire zones
survival zones
grace zones
faith zones
music zones
hope zones
spirit zones
calling me to
eternity
I love contrasts and the shifts. I hopped over to your blog to see the illustration. Gorgeous.
I love contrast too; curious to see your zone poem.
Karen, I am making a picture book chronicle of my grandparents and grandchildren. Sort of like typing a diary, no? Please see:
https://thevibrantchanneledcreator.wordpress.com/2018/12/12/my-grand-grands/ for a sample of 3 caricatures.
THE WRONG ZONE
I was caught doing sixty in a fifty-mile zone,
And, to make matters worse, I was using my phone.
I’d spent the last hour drinking whiskey and gin,
And the officer saw the state I was in.
He asked me to get out and walk a straight line.
I said, “That’s no problem, I’m sure I’ll be fine.
I pulled myself up and took the first pace.
But the next thing I knew, I was flat on my face.
He told me to blow into his machine.
The reading was higher than he’d ever seen.
Three tyres were quite bald, with no tread at all;
The headlights were faulty; he was having a ball.
He wrote it all down, he was truly inspired.
Then he found my insurance had long since expired.
In court the next morning, the judge was severe
And sent me to jail for many a year.
So I sit and write poems in my cell all alone.
Just for driving at sixty in a fifty-mile zone.
© Bryn Strudwick
Bryn, I’ll be smiling over this one for some time to come. Thank you!