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 April is GONE.
Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog 
Here, thanks to Jane Yolen, is the first GONE poem to be posted here at Word of the Month. Thank you, Jane.
Gone Are the Days
Gone are the days when I was called Janie,
and my baby brother Stevie and I
played in Central Park on swings and slides,
and watched our father fly
his endless kites over the ballfields
and passing cabs and cars.
When we went to school,
and movd to the countryside,
and sat with our feet
in the small river by our new house.
Gone are the days when we went
to s college and met our partners
and had our children. And now
both in our 80s, writing and sending notes
via the internet because distance refuses
to excuse itself, and we are thousands
of miles apart, but not thousands of miles
in our hearts.
(c) 2024 Jane Yolen, all rights reserved
Dream
Found old farm place wasn’t easy searched all day
trees had grown gate was gone old mail box didn’t stay
grass spreading hid old one lane white gravel mostly gone away
bridges stayed over where little creek had its way
memories stirred as memories can
seeing pasture where big pet horses ran
milk weed sprouts there were some
wondered if monarchs would always come
Looking ahead saw place still
graced hugging trees back in hill
awoke then from dream glad to know
was now real not living what dream wanted show
William Joe Pyles
Be Not Afraid
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
“I’ve never tried that before.”
“I can’t do this very well.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“It’s too scary.”
“It’s too hard.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t know where to go.”
“What will they think?”
“What will they do?”
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
“How will I fix it?”
Fears are surrounding
Fears are overwhelming
Fears are overtaking
Fears are crushing
Prayers
PLEADING
a w h i s p e r
an ounce of faith
Love
God is near
Fear – gone.
Marge Waldschmidt
Wh
What a hopeful march for the gone in your life!
Yesterday’s gone; but tomorrow will come…
there will be sun, scalloped by clouds,
ushered in by a waterfall of birdsong.
It will be a temperate seventy-five, low
humidity. For twenty-four hours, all politicians will be silent. Reality
programs will vanish from TV, replaced
by the “snow” that used to decorate
our screens when reception wasn’t
working. Soldiers will toss their weapons
in the grass. The oceans will stop
their inexorable rise.No one
will have yo sit on a committee.
When twilight falls, the aurora borealis
will cutoff cell phones, scramble the internet.
We’ll play flashlight tag, hide and seek,
decorate our hair with fireflies, spin
until we’re dizzy, collapse
on the dew-decked lawn and look up,
perhaps for the first time, to read the long lines
of cold code written in the stars…..
4/6/24
jp
I love this! I wasn’t sure when I read that first line, but you surprised and delighted.
YOUR FAVOURITE PERFUME
I thought the yearning had ended
And I’d finally moved on.
The memories had faded,
In the months since you had gone.
Those dreams had been less frequent,
That disturbed my sleep at night.
Your photograph was in a drawer,
Kept safely out of sight.
But today, in the department store,
I was back there under your spell,
As I passed the perfume counter
And caught a whiff of Chanel.
I turned, expecting to see you there,
With your mass of golden hair,
Smiling the way you used to.
But, of course, there was no-one there.
I thought the yearning had ended
And I’d worked through all the pain.
But one whiff of your favourite perfume
Has brought it all back again.
Bryn Strudwick
Oh, that was beautifully bittersweet.
G O N E
G o i n g
G o i n
G o i
G o
G
_ _ _ _ !
Cory Corrado (2024)
If I could draw like an artist.
My first picture would be of a tick, painting them just right so they would cease to exist.
I really and truly want them gone. Not just on the extinct list. Nope just gone. When one of these blood suckers gets a whiff of me they will swim the lake just to get a taste. I want them gone and I mean post haste. I
Many things are gone
It’s gone! It It’s gone! It’s gone!
Blinked off like a light! Or did it disappear?
I’ m in a panic!
Oh, there it is!
It was my…well, ANYTHING!
It’s gone!…time
So much to think about, feel, and experience before it’s gone.
Some things, that are, stinky, scary, sad, unkind,….well, those things , if they’re gone…BYE!
I’m right next to you feeling exactly the same!
<
div>Jeanne
Sent from my iPhone
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