My poem for August

Hi everyone,

Here’s my Word of the Month poem for August.

The Voice Clock

When he was little,
his voice squealed,
piped high soprano notes
that accompanied his play,
the excitement of each day.

But came a time
when the high notes cracked,
like shards of youth, into deeper timbre,
croaked at girls, who were curious
more than attracted.

Awkwardness ended
at the threshold of manhood.
His voice grew strong, firm,
confident beyond his years,
but people listened.

He grew into his voice,
learned about life,
became a lover, father,
wage earner, leader,
spoke with manly assurance.

The clock kept ticking.
The once deep thunder
of his testosterone-laced voice
lost its verve, began, at times,
to quiver and break with uncertainty.

He still yearned to speak but feared
his outdated wisdom and the sounds
of his soprano voice.
He sat in blankets, folded in thought,
and watched children play.

(c) 2018 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved

Word of the month for July is . . .

Hi everyone,

I choose this month’s word challenge with confidence that I won’t screw up and name a word used previously. Know why? Because of Cory Corrado, that’s why!

Just look at the lovely gift she has sent me, a booklet listing every word I’ve used since the beginning in 2009. They’re listed alphabetically! And she included a printout of all words by month and year, in which it’s apparent that on five occasions I have indeed reused a word.

So here is the all new, never ever used before Word of the Month word for July! It is FRESH.

Go for it, ladies and gentlemen!

My Word of the Month poem for June

Hi everyone,

Here’s my Word of the Month poem for June inspired by our word: SOUR.

Chasing the Sour

Sour mood in that pretty head?
Honey, feed it sourdough bread.
Chase that mood that got you down.
Sourdough chase it out of town!
Take this cup of sourdough starter,
Add a cup and a half of water.
Child, this mood just ain’t your fault!
Mix with sugar, corn oil, salt.
Sift some flour till its right.
Oil your bowl, set overnight.
Tomorrow, kneed, divide in two.
Darling, this is good for you!
Let that dough just grow and grow,
Till pretty soon why don’t you know
It’s time to bake a golden brown.
And now what happened to that frown?
Sour mood in that pretty head?
Honey, feed it sourdough bread.

(c) 2018 by David L. Harrison, all rights reserved