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 March is WONDER.
Monday Morning
Then came our weekend
for two days life we did do
well together before Monday morning
wanted more of my Saturday and Sunday with you
small cafe eggs our way
what did you say
window shopping
taxi cab hopping
tickets to off broadway show
marque nights reflecting your face glow
wonder could this be my time asking to know
would you stay over Monday
if I didn’t want you to go
William Joe Pyles
Beautifully done, William. So much excitement, living, wonder captured in a few well turned lines. Thank you.
Really enjoyed this, William, especially the ending.
William P
I like your poem.
Lovely, William. Others commented on the ending. I especially like the anticipation expressed in the beginning– “life we did do/well together..”
Wonder Mill
It grinds them out daily,
those wonders we barely see
any more miracles being
too common for our jaded tastes.
The red blot of cardinal
on a winter leaf.
A Vee or Cee of geese,
the ones who decided to stay
through the cold.
A squirrel on its barrel slide
across the slate roof
while the dog goes crazy
in its alarums.
A fox in a small apostrophe
finding it’s early meal.
Waterfall in full spate
giving the wintering-over
otters a constant shower.
Four female turkeys
who pick through yesterday’s rubbish,
ignoring it with Jurassic sneers.
And I writing a poem
without pulling up the shade,
having seen all this many time before,
waiting only to be surprised
by an alien spaceship,
or an angel, in full awful glory
summonsing me to a heaven
I left behind eighty years ago.
©2020 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
So much to love about this one, Jane. Such wonderful imagery: A fox in a small apostrophe/finding it’s early meal; And I writing a poem/without pulling up the shade; more. Bravo!
Such rich imagery, Jane. What a lovely poem.
Jane Y
Beautiful pictures you bring to my imagination. Thanks.
Gosh, thanks!
Such a masterful reminder of the world’s wonder. Thank you, Jane
Wonder poem:
I wonder who’s kissing him now?
licking his wounds?
cutting his toenails?
calluses?
sweeping his crumbs?
trimming his beard?
manicures?
buying his socks?
laughing at his jokes?
stocking his pantry?
paying Verizon?
buying the gas?
trusting him each day?
understanding?
I wonder.
Jeanne Poland
all rights
Makes me wonder, too, Jeanne, and feel. Thank you.
Your wonder poem is simply wonderful, Jeanne.
Jeanne P
Lovely and sad.
I appreciate the details in this one, Jeanne.
Jeanne–tears. Wiliam….hmmmm, I want more of this story/poem.–Jane Y
To Be
A flower knows nothing of its beauty and appeal,
It lives in the soil, it grows and blooms.
A flower knows nothing of fear and death,
Til we rip it out of the soil it calls home.
We are drawn by its beauty,
we give it to show love,
while we introduce it to its death.
But a flower, far from home,
it knows nothing but to be.
A parrot know nothing of its wisdom & bilingual,
It hatches from its shell, it grows, it flies.
A parrot knows nothing of cages & boxes,
Til we catch it from the nature that is home.
We say it is a companion,
We teach it our language,
We introduce it to its entrapment.
But a parrot, locked in a cage,
it knows nothing but to be.
A child knows nothing of hate & bitterness,
Born innocent, that is all it knows.
A child is only filled with goodness & wonder,
Who will I be, what will I see, I wonder.
A child sees no colour, a child hates no gender.
Much like a flower, the child is beauty personified.
And just like a parrot, they listen, they learn, they mimic.
Slowly we mold them into versions of ourselves,
We introduce them to hatred and sadness,
And a child, its wonder burned out,
knows nothing but to obey.
Silindile, welcome back. The long wait was worth it. Beautiful.
Thank you big bro, I check in even when I have no poem, reading is fun
Silindile N
This reminds us that everything starts out beautiful. Too bad we lose that wonder.
So many children learning hatred right now in the USA. Time to double down on LOVE!
Beautiful and powerful, Silindile!
Silindile, what powerful words, such beauty.
Thank you Linda, great to see you’re still here
Parenting
By Linda Boyden©2020
Children are born
in beauty, in pain,
awakening to our
strange new world.
Time ticks by
and so they learn
strength and fear
freedom and limits:
“You may throw a ball,
but never a rock.”
“You may color on paper
but never the walls.”
“Keep your promise
if you give your word.”
“Stand your ground
if your cause is just.”
Trial.
Error.
Fail.
Grow.
Day by day our children step
away from us into independence.
Day by day parents endeavor
to maintain a child’s wonder
while brewing up an adult.
Thank you, Linda, for putting it all in perspective. I’m proud to say we brewed up a couple of dandies.
Thanks so much, David.
Wow this is beautiful
Thank you, Silindile!
Linda B
All parents need a copy of this poem. Most have forgotten to teach their children and allow them to rule the house instead of the parent being the guide.
Thanks, Janet, I appreciate and understand what you said.
Linda, you have well captured the challenges of raising and teaching children.
Wonder poem
I wonder about those three little words that are so often said.
I wonder if the one saying them knows what lies ahead.
I wonder about the passion and thoughts wandering in their hearts.
From the time the words are uttered and the feelings at once starts.
Three little words that mean so much especially to the one that knows they are meant for them.
A very fine line between love and hate. Three little words the joy or the pain is not hard to rate.
I love you.
I hate you.
Each sentence with such different endings.
Or in a different light just the beginnings.
Don, I like your last line, thinking of these words as beginnings. We never know where words will lead.
Don B
I like your wise and wonderful words.
This gives me much to think about, Don.
“A very fine line between love and hate.” Something to ponder, Don.
I Wonder
I wonder how much influence we bear.
We seek control but it’s a subtle dance.
I wonder how much us and how much chance,
How much responsibility we share.
I wonder why the songs play in my head
And fascinating images in dreams.
Where do they come from? Somewhere deep it seems,
And from some inner soul they’re fueled and fed.
Such mysteries I think we’ll never know.
We cannot catch the wind, but feel it blow.
(c) 2020 Susan Bickel
Susan B
Lovely.
I also have vivid dreams. Really enjoy wondering about your poem, Susan.
“how much us and how much chance” and why do things happen as they do? We all wonder. Thanks for putting it into words, Susan.
How to Swallow an Elephant
Slowly woo her into a friendship.
Introduce her to your family.
Let her spend time with your children.
Enjoy the special things she does for them.
Wonder why she does not have her own.
Believe she is your friend., but know she is more like a ministry.
Watch her treat your children like they are her own.
Wonder if she really likes you for who you are, or
If she is after your children.
Deal with her husband calling to find out why you did not inform her that you were going to spend time with your children.
Wonder why she did not call herself.
Die a little inside when she tells you things about your children that you did not know.
Notice the glint in her eye.
Sneak visits in with your children while they visit and hope she doesn’t see.
Take her out for lovely lunches, quick snacks, a New Year’s drink.
Give up on her.
Watch her actually show up on time.
Marvel when she doesn’t call to say she’ll be a little late.
Sit, slack jawed as she presents you with a beautiful, original rendering of your recently deceased pet.
Pray harder as the elephant is stuck in your throat.
Linda T D
This poem brings many different emotions. Happy for a friend, wonder if she is stalking your family, joy of a wonderful gift. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for commentinig! I love this group!
Lindas–there’s a picture book here, though either it is the grandmother telling the child when they are at a zoo, and leave out the more adult references, or a child introducing an elephant to her grandmother and mother at a tea party, the elephant may begin as a stuffed toy and end as an actual elepehant or the other way around,
Go for it!
–JaneY
Jane, Thank you for your observations. You have long been a mentor.
Wow. I guess all those years as a librarian are paying off in poetry! Speaking of which, I found a book about kites that your dad wrote. What a wonderful legacy.
Compelling, Linda, the line Notice the glint in her eye, gave me chills.
The person that is the subject of this poem is surely one to give chills. Thank you so much for your comment!
Linda–if it is A YOUNG SPORTSMAN’S GUIDE TO KITE FLYING–I am the one who actually wrote it. You will see my name tucked in after chapter 2, but I wrote the entire book using (mostly) my father’s large reference library in kites but a bunch of research I did at the NY PL as well. If it is his coffee table book about , kites, someone else actually wrote that one for him or with him. My husband took the author shot on that one.
Wow, Linda. I second Janet Gallagher’s comment, and I wonder what happens next….
For the second month running, my first attempt to post a poem has failed. Apologies if this appears twice.
SHE WONDERS
She had often wondered what had become of him;
That little bundle they had told her was a boy,
That could have brought her so much joy.
They let her hold him for a few brief moments.
Better, they’d said not to form a bond;
Better nor to get too fond.
He’ll be well looked after, don’t you fear.
Then left her on her own again,
Awash with milk, awash with pain.
He’d been the consequence of love,
When, just one time, in Jimmy’s car,
They’d let things go a step too far.
He’d never known of his paternity.
If he had they would have wed.
But two weeks later he was dead.
They said that no-one was to blame.
A lorry jack-knifed in the snow
And Jimmy had nowhere to go
Her parents, pillars of the local church,
Should have shown more understanding,
But thought more of their local standing.
For, back then, such a thing brought shame.
And upright people would disparage
Pregnancy outside of marriage.
And so they sent her to a distant aunt,
Who kept her safely out of sight,
Until the heartbreak of that night.
She never found a new romance.
She has her photograph of Jim,
And no-one measures up to him.
And still she daydreams of their son.
Does he have a happy life?
Does he have a lovely wife?
Is he wealthy, is he famous,
Or just a simple family man?
Could she, maybe, be a gran?
Last week there was a letter on the mat.
A hand she didn’t recognise.
She read, half-blind from teardrops in her eyes,
“I hope this won’t come as a shock.”
And now he’s standing at the door.
Her little bundle, six feet four.
Bryn Strudwick
You have knocked another one out of the park, Bryn! Wow…thanks for this.
Bryn S
You nailed the ideas of that time. This would be sad but for a happy ending.
Bryn, what a roller coaster of emotions is threaded through this. Made me remember the one I lost. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
Bryn, I’m weeping. I think I would have anyway, but I am the child of one of those. I, too, would be standing at her door. I have always wondered so much. I spent an entire and very emotional summer in NY trying to locate any clue to my biology. Instead I was fed the same lines that my Mom who raised me had noted upon the final adoption paperwork. It is so wonderful to read the other side of the story; the part I hope is true for me.
Janine, I really feel for you. I do hope you will find what you need to know one day.
I feel so lucky not to have been in that situation myself.
Oh, wow, Bryn. An entire life (or two or three) told so well in 5 stanzas.
March 2020 Word of the Month
WONDER
My Book
Janet Kay Gallagher
GRANDMOTHER’S GHOST
My book was written in 30 days
In January 2012
It took years to get it published
I worked on it off and on
Trying to get it just right
When it went to the editor
I had Eva, Erica, and Elizabeth
Changed to Eva, Sarah, and Katherine
I wonder how I could have worked
Years and never noticed the three E’s
Edit meant many changes
Proof copy arrived more changes
Second proof copy more changes
On Amazon Kindle Pre-order
Launch date 22 March 2020
I want NY Times #1 Bestselling Author
Also USA TODAY #1 Best Seller
I want readers to love my book
And leave great reviews
I wonder if I will find a literary agent?
I wonder how long it will take to finish
The three other books that are about
Half written, I wonder, oh I wonder
As a fellow author, I understand the angst and the desire.
Linda B
Thanks. I got the first Amazon Review on Kindle today. And the paperback is for sale under books and will ship in 1 to 2 days. I am so excited.
Wow! The first one under your belt. It’s hard to start those changes that will make a difference, but you must be proud that it is done!
Janine
Thanks. Yes, I am proud to have it up for sale. I hope people will enjoy reading it.
Congratulations, Janet! May your highest hopes and wildest dreams come true!
Grown-Ups
Grown-ups are a wacky lot
They say things that
I know are not
When I ask “why?”
They say “because”
(silliest answer
that ever was)
sometimes I wonder
what they know…
and if I they’re faking?
Holy Crow!!!
© Karen Eastlund
Karen E
Lol, enjoyed it.
Ha! And from the adult viewpoint, we know that a lot of times we ARE faking! That’s great, Karen.
Great one, Karen, exactly how kids think.
A grown-up wonder
Janine Clark-Barry
It is not a wonder I am the grown-up I am
For my childhood molded me
to always and forever
wonder.
Not only did I wonder but I also asked the whys.
Why is the grass green, the sky blue,
and what IS
thunder?
When my own three children came to be
my learning curve increased,
turning my dated thoughts
asunder.
Raised by conservative progressives
and ruled by love alone,
I feed my liberal
hunger.
Janine
It is good to always keep that sense of wonder. It makes life more enjoyable.
We can learn the answers to some of our “whys,” yet there are some things we’ll never know. Interesting to follow your own path of seeking answers, Janine.
Seeking to sprinkle some solace, hope, and wonder into our day . . .
Wonder-Full Things
Cottontail springs out of the shrubs
Red robin returns to the bath
A skein of geese honks ‘hi’
Are those teeny green buds I spy?
Our lungs fill with song
Our full hearts sing along
To wondrous new things
We joy-full-y
spring!
Cory Corrado ©
Cory
Your view of the day is wonder-filled.
Love the use of “spring” as a verb at the end, Cory!
Subservient Wonder
Vida, our miniature dachshund was aged
Tessa a boisterous pup
By her docked tail
possibly part Rottweiler
part grown, but solid
a concrete wall
But she knew at once
that her size, weight, strength
were irrelevant
It’s years that count
– knowledge, experience
We laughed at the wonder
of Tess trying desperately
to get her neck head and ears
down lower than Vida’s.
I bow to you!
You’re the boss
Look! Look! I am subservient!
Virginia Lowe © 2020
I don’t know how to make the last stanza itics – sorry.
That is so cute, Virginia! I can see this in my mind. Thank you.
I Wonder
Patricia Cruzan
I wonder how long it’ll be
before things return to normal
with the self-quarantine in place.
By not going out, the world
doesn’t spread germs, but people
must get food for a living.
Some deeds appear on sites,
helping us think of others
but too often, aid’s not done.
To keep one’s home going,
humans need cleanliness, food,
and energy just to exist.
Sometimes, there’s not enough time
or vigor to accomplish tasks
for the daily needs around us.
People can’t do all things,
but giving of oneself to another
means not completing a task.
Assistance may save a life,
whether it’s money or a job
for others to feel optimistic.
Giving hope to others takes time
but if people would do one chore
for others, kindness would increase.
I think we all share your wonder of when this crisis will pass, Patricia. Your last stanza is always true, but now more than ever. Thank you.
Home
Held high
In the branches,
A woven wonder
Of twigs, grass, mud;
Large enough
To shelter eggs,
Shield hatchlings
Launch chicks.
Home.
Jane Heitman Healy c2020