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May 09

Day 17: Street Symphony Morning Bacchanal

Tweets flutter in pale hues

Stream across

A chilling swoosh

Dimming down acapella of morning dew

Clinking and clanking naked branches

Dancing, reaching, requesting-

I too, must get in the groove.

Twigs jump and clap

Celebrate to the tune of idle bottle caps

On center grounds

Throughout the quad,

Scraping laundry bags

Hi-hats of skating shopping carts

Whistling through

Timely rimshots of dips from large vehicles

The chorus of cackling squirrels

Bridges into screeching gulls

That fade away in leaping sirens,

Dawn congregates all to sweeping harmony.

May 09

Day 23: One-Sentence Poem

Solidarity

In the absence of presence, solidarity subject to windfall; the one within the without fields the call.

May 09

Day 19: Personal Ritual Lord's Prayer In the name of the Father,

with whom I often spout;

And the Son,

whose name I'm not devout;

And the Holy Spirit,

which I'm in search of its where-abouts.

My automated blinds

Open to the sparse radiating sunrise

Hand gestures

Follow order of operations

Orienting anything lost

toward The Sign of the Cross.

Glory Be - words that commence

Faith, beveled and embossed

Absorbs any remnant doubts

Along lines of commandments

Before feet prance the floor.

May 09

Day 18: Unexpected Guest Passerby

Today reminds me of you

Bright

With a calm chill

Dreamy as the whiff of a warm meal

Strong in opposing direction

Warping affection,

Unsuspecting as it gathers

with each lift

The wind beneath your feet.

May 09

DAY 13: Unsent Message

Layaway Love

Figure out what you want,

and what matters;

wherever those two intersect

Reach out-

that's likely where I'll be.

May 09

DAY 9: Scent Memory

Precipitation Road

An outstretched aroma

Skinning the winding veins

Highlighted through the coombe

Glistening pathways paved

Drumming rain

lace asphalt lined carpet

whiffs of heat being raised

Mapping my memory ladened home.

May 09

DAY 4: The Object Whisperer

Cocktail Confession

Truly,

I'm ashamed

Contrite from behaviors I entertain

Whether esteemed bliss

or tumultuous pain

Present in every domain

None of which brings me joy

To be so celebrated- a dismal ploy;

Lubricate then dehydrate

Relationships left to rekindle

Only wrong messages get sent

Swirling in these voided bottles.

May 09

DAY 3: Found Words

Ginger Date Latte

In the middle of a Valley

Plateaus of ginger lilies

Often first with a greeting

Recognizing each visit

required such a steep climb

Before making contact

would have the presence of mind

To milk its conversation with the wind

So that I may have the chance to gather mine,

Their presence was pleasure

Each date set to a reminder

Love spirals out once bound by nature.

Without having to keep in any order,

Our encounters appear brief

Without perspective of eternity

Magic, reduced to slight of hands

An exchange, only relevant upon delivery

Lost in translation, details for a divine plan,

May 09

Day 2: Soundtrack of Now

Godly Hour

High Frequencies to overrule

Undertones of soul imposters

Whispers low in value

Pang soprano volumes

To call on Self

Dial in a vibration

Amplify so sound surrounds

Tuning soul toward what to reach for

Peace is in the silence

Though the silence has not been peaceful

No harm in trying

Yet not trying has been harmful

963, 437, eleven eleven

Hertz for hurt

Swim in penetrating symphony

Subtly overpowering internal cacophony

Most dangerous words said to one's self

in safest spaces where it's kept

The loudest voice no one hears

Stifled on its way back, from mouth to God's ears.

May 09

Day 1 One Bus Stand I slept with a man

No,

I don't know his name

And he didn't mine

Unspoken the invisible lines

crossed, only to manage

The gargantuan time

Productivity afforded us

the chance to waste

Wrestling our way through confined space

Occasional bumps into each others waist

A premature lean that cusps my shoulder

An accidental knock

of knees suddenly swayed from each other.

Yes,

I slept with this man from evening

Into the night

Without either one of us knowing when we came

We arrived together

Destination the same

On a Coach bus, adjacent passengers

Now opposites on the train

Grateful to have borrowed a shoulder

Rested, wide eyed- thrusting into the next venture

Bags in hand, the tracks where we part perhaps forever.

C.L.A.S

May 01

•

DAY 30 (FINAL DAY!!!!)

"April Exit"

Look back at this month. What surprised you? Moved you? Write a farewell poem to April using 3 lines from poems you wrote this month.

Life is random and yet precise. I will do so when choosing lines from day 1, day 14 and day 29.

The more you write/read/share inevitably you evolve. Overall, this month has been extremely fun and explorative getting to know my creative muse in a new intimate way. Always within me, increased freshness when indulging freely I receive genuine play.

C.L.A.S

Tequila Sunrise

Unfurling cosmic shining rose seeds before planted time

waiting patiently for our journey/trip to unfold

A life unmapped, taking unexpected wild bumps

calm waters rest for you’re always with me

Invisibly naked to untuned, my instrument is sharpening

revealing hidden splendour, constant rebirth.

Mark Keller

May 01

•

Replying to

When one looks at this poem from the point-of-view of the first word of the first line of each couplet, there’s a LOT TO BE SAID about “Unfurling…/A life…/Invisibly…” I think poetry tends to do that, as a subconscious and very truthful reality that finds its own groove in its own way. We may dig and attempt to mine our poems, but they find us in ways that are often surprising, sometimes bewildering, and always satisfying because we designate our own truths by what comes from the subconscious and is shaped and molded by the conscious mind into something more polished and refined than the original inspiration. Just like a musical instrument, “my instrument is sharpening/…constant rebirth.” Over a lifetime, a musician improves upon an instrument—whether played or the voice—and it’s a neverending process, a journey that takes patience, commitment, passion, perseverance, persistence, and fortitude. Poetry takes that same degree of dedication, as it’s a lifelong art to be enjoyed, inspired by, to consider with longing, aspirations, and a deep sense of acceptance. The poet is every bit the artist, like a painter, a sculptor, an architect, a draughtsperson, one who draws, and a craftsperson! Those who write do so with passion, purpose, care, skill, refinement, subtlety, vision, and a deep awareness of environment, nature, others, and life in general. “Unfurling cosmic shining rose seeds before planted time/“—what a line!!!!!!! “Rose seeds” become universal, “before planted time”.—the beginnings of life, itself, origins that happen prior to “planting”. That’s a cosmos of the fantastic, returning to the roots that give these “shining rose seeds” something more than just life. They become majestic events, happenings that relate to things much larger, more grandiose, perhaps even further along this road of growing, thriving, and presenting life as a series of unravelings “waiting patiently for our journey/trip to unfold”. No matter what trials come, “you’re always with me”, a source of stability and evenness that remains consistent and always there. We come into the world with nothing, unclothed, just ourselves. In this state, we become instruments and, as we grow and mature, move through the vagaries of life, gain knowledge, wisdom, foresight, vision, and an enlarging toolbox for dealing with all life throws at us; so, too, does our “instrument” grow, blossom, develop, further and become something grander than it was at the beginning. We master our “instrument”, whether that be our writing, or our art, or our music, or whatever it is that we commit to with intention and passion, perseverance and consistence. We become addicted to the drug of our art, hence the title “Tequila Sunrise”, a hallucination that recreates over and over and over, as long as we have breath and life and vigor and passion and desire! In essence, these three couplets present a beginning, a middle, and a loop that doesn’t end, as the artist creates with energy and euphoria and an earnestness that never dies “Unfurling cosmic shining rose seeds before planted time”.

Mark Keller

Apr 30

•

Day 30

Comfort Is Far Too Complex

What did you find when you asked them what was where?

Fear and curiosity enter, pass, crawl, struggle through, hesitate and linger.

Comfort is far too complex.

Genevieve

Apr 30

•

Day 29

With no prompt, I decided to dive into the giant list of forms I have bookmarked - at first I tried just picking a totally random form, but decided it was too tricky for the moment, so I scrolled until something caught my eye - and I landed on Anagrammatic Poetry. Since I had some what jokingly titled today "Promptless Wonder" in my notes, I decided to use those letters (and an anagram generator if I am honest) to get a big list of words. I let a few jump out at me to begin, and then kept searching for words in the list or on my own to make the poem.

Promptless Wonder

Wordless ponderers weep,

Poems stolen, not lost.

No words to doom demons.

Endless storms erode rest.

Moorless, wordless, powerless,

Now old men, old women.

Poets no more.

Mark Keller

Apr 30

•

Replying to

Form can bring freshness and a sense of its own wonder and splendor to something that otherwise might feel stale and forlorn. This has panache, grit, its own permanence of thoughts and truths that speak out of the mystery of words wrangling among themselves to get the jitters out of meanings! LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Adam Gary

Apr 30

•

Replying to

This is a form I’ve not come across! I will immediately research it 😂😂😂

Diane Cowling

Apr 30

I've been very hesitant to share the poems I've written but a 9 year old remind me we all have to be brave sometimes.

Unsent Message day 13

Today's been a rough one

They called and the cancers back

You're always my first call

I promise to fight with all I have

Your time is near and I fear

this news will speed your passing

Grounded day 24

The icy river runs over my feet

There is a jagged edge on the smooth river rock

The crisp mountain air fills my lungs with each breath

As I enjoy the snow capped mountain peaks,

My soul feels at peace in tjis moment

Mark Keller

Apr 30

•

Replying to

What powerful and heartfelt poems! Yes, it takes courage to share, and you show heroism by just posting and sharing!!!!!!! “…first…fight…” and “…near…news…” gather alliterations in arms of protectivenss. I find that a poem feels finished when the first and last lines can be linked with success: “Today’s been a rough one/this news will speed your passing”. There’s a circular completion that leaves the reader satisfied because the poem has rendered itself with a fullness, which is best measured if the opening and closing lines give it a feeling of solidity and closure. I gather two people are dying here: the recipient of the news and the “ first call” of that person is also dying. The last two lines are a potent reminder that poetry has the power to convey such power in such brevity, that nothing else can touch it! It’s as vital to life as breathing, for it informs, instructs, cajoles, caresses, and shows meaning where one may think nothing exists! That becomes a doubled-edged sword for the first line because the recipient knows the “first call” is also dying, so the news hits with double force. Redemption comes in the third and fourth lines, for the recipient “promises to fight with all I have”, to give the contact encouragement that, even though the fight may be in vain, the recipient wants to try and prolong the inevitable. In six lines, you have created a drama that does not play out to its full conclusion, but gives the reader enough to ponder the weight of the situation and how it might affect both parties. The title of the second poem, “Grounded”, reminds the reader of how living in the presence of Nature is what it means to be alive, to take stock of what surrounds us, to experience the joy of just being and present in the current moment. That is absolute and positive joy, without which we cannot experience the fullness, depth, and manifestation of joy in all its beauty, simplicity, strength, and happiness! You are a very powerful poet, Diane! Revel in poetry and believe that you are the real deal with all the capabilities needed to move others and inject wisdom into life!

Edited

C.L.A.S

Apr 30

•

Replying to

Writing is cathartic peace. A healing journey for the self and others. And sharing is also a form of care 🤍

Adam Gary

Apr 30

•

Replying to

So proud of you Diane. Thank you for sharing. You will only find love and support here. Big hugs to you. 🫂🫂🫂🖤🖤🖤

Genevieve

Apr 29

•

Day 28 - Today's Texture

Just a short one this evening...

Warmth wrapped around me

Still soft, but no longer new

Aged by time and love

Bonus silly poem: Earlier in the day before the prompt as posted I wrote a silly poem for fun...

We’ve been left to our own devices,

Oh dear, is this a (poetic) crisis?

With no prompt today,

No sure what to say,

So I guess we’ll get some surprises?

C.L.A.S

Apr 29

•

Day 28

"Today’s Texture"

Feel the texture of your clothes, skin, or something nearby. Use sensory language to build a textured poem.

C.L.A.S

Dirt Holds

Hard densely porous pressed tracks winding around and around

delicate spiralling concrete circles pounded into with guided hands

around, as alien braille communicates around turbulent past turn

around future now found around.

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 29

•

Replying to

I like the feeling of abandon you achieve here, that sense of complete and carefree randomness that uses the word “around” with such inventiveness layering it with such subtlety and nuance that one has to pay attention to catch the gentle-but-insistent moves that change the wor’d’s look, meaning, and appearance. The alliteration is just a symphony of sound, that “Dirt Holds” with specatacular fortitude!

C.L.A.S

Apr 29

•

Replying to

Thank you, I didn’t know what to use to write about. I did go in with full abandonment. To just play around and see what happens!

C.L.A.S

Apr 28

•

DAY 0027-01-01T00:00:00.000Z

"5-Minute Free Write"

Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write non-stop. No editing. Then, shape that raw writing into a polished poem.

C.L.A.S

Pause Button

Five minutes you say i’m not trying to be morbid here.

Lingering on a conversation

I just had with a friend of mine

It’s a reality.

We all come into this world and we all have to exit at some point

I want to compose a meaningful burial

not concerned if anyone shows up

preparation is key in this life of ours.

To be more than self, while completely enamoured.

You can still be serendipitous wearing moments of freedom

I should start saving specifically for my departure from this world.

Gracefully put me into my devoted/moving mother, needing a moment to breathe in my mortality. Importance of contemplating temporality. All our visions, righteous dreams that came to be or not. All those questions asked, maybe never even thought, wanting to collapse and lie down. Can I just go now, what weird ruminations on a simple Sunday but you have to think about it someday, I often do. When to take full action and genuinely go through with these cathartic mind numbing candour.

Do I start all over never giving up in life, right, start over knowing more harsh truths. We’re meant to go through all these mistakes and hardships learning progressively together building human consciousness, slowly stronger. Merely think of our forefathers and where they came from. I’m so happy to not be them and yet grateful for their struggles and anguish to bring me forth damn existence, overwhelming and beautiful a double edged sword cutting you endlessly bleeding triumphant gems.

Finite loving life

Sitting grave waits patiently

Creation is yours.

Gallagher Green

Apr 27

•

DAY 25

"Noted in Passing"

Glance out your window or take a brief walk. Write a poem about someone or something you notice in passing.

Nice prompt, but the last time I passed someone was a bicyclist. That was over 8 months ago, and an extremely rare thing to have happen. So, I had to get creative here.

Title: Empty Sea

Emptiness stretches on all sides

expanding into the curve of the earth.

When you stare out over the sea of grass

the world falls away in 2.8 miles.

Walking through this sea I scan the miles

for anyone else wondering these grasses.

It stretches in its emptiness

only the creatures of the grass sea exist here.

Mark Keller

Apr 27

•

Replying to

The word “wondering” in the second line of the third stanza is unexpected and magical, here! It suggests a symbiosis the speaker has with the environment and other, like-minded observers. I say observers because one never knows who or what else is contemplating the green—whether a resident or a passerby that happens to stop and consider its vastness, if it’s an ant or a grasshopper. It’s a maze of “wonder” because the inhabitants of this “grass sea” might be hidden within its folds, hunkered down in the cool rootedness attributable to such a “sea”, just as a body of water has its variations in temerature and light penetration. Just think of an ant considering “2.8 miles”, “before the world falls away”. that’s unfathomable, and its size disallows that sort of rumination, as its field of vision can’t encompass something that large. an ant’s contemplation versus that of a human being might be an interesting duo to consider, when approaching another angle to this poem, if such an interest piques your curiosity. The title approaches clickbait, as it speaks to something of no substance, but a field of grass is LOADED with substance and life! Once you’ve captured a reader’s attention with such an innocent title, you then spirit h/him into a very different and interesting world, one in which the element of time whisks away, in favor of a more clandestine and casual saunter that leaves the reader with the awed reality of truth narrated in four AMAZING couplets!!!!!!!!!!!

Gallagher Green

Apr 28

•

Replying to

Thank you so much! I have been in these grasslands my entire life, and have learned to see more in them than most. People always see grasslands as boring, but there is so much in them.

Gallagher Green

Apr 28

•

Replying to

Thank you so much! I have been in these grasslands my entire life, and have learned to see more in them than most. People always see grasslands as boring, but there is so much in them.

This comment was deleted.

Gallagher Green

Apr 27

•

Replying to

Is this supposed to be in the prompts area?

Genevieve

Apr 27

•

Day 26 - Dream Spill

Perhaps I’ll teach you to fly too, past the house by the lake

At the edge of the town I’m not sure existed.

Remember you met me there once… in summer.

The curtains billowed in the warm breeze

Across rooms with no furniture

At the tiny gray house by the lake.

But maybe you don’t remember, I’ve met so many yous,

Sometimes the same face, sometimes the same name,

The place is right - but the memory is wrong.

Perhaps I never flew at all, but we walked - side-by-side.

Perhaps you stayed behind

At the tiny gray house by the lake.

Eyes still closed, I feel my fingers reach you

A familiar furnace who sleeps just too close

No flight, no lake, and no summer breeze,

But I know your face, and your name,

And, my love, we are no longer

At the tiny gray house by the lake.

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 28

•

Replying to

Enchanting! an idyll you wish to lose yourself in and never come out. Placid and serene, it speaks sincerity with genuinbe ease and a relaxed casualness, which invites the reader to linger over it and muse at the wonder and memory of it!

Genevieve

Apr 28

•

Replying to

Thanks Mark

Mark Keller

Apr 26

•

Day 26

The Unveiling of a Dream

Imagination

makes up for what you can’t dream

night becomes nightmare

C.L.A.S

Apr 27

•

Replying to

Speaking somewhat similar. I just know a lot of people who are physically unable to do many simple tasks. Where painful rage does come through because of these inabilities. And with imagination and forgiveness, they’re able to succumb to the beauty within the moment. To see life past their own physicality/ego.

Mark Keller

Apr 27

•

Replying to

I speak of mental rage, not physical pain. Yes, many do rage at physical pain and that’s VERY understandable. I have over fifty years of suppressed and smothered mental rage that has caught up with me in a very unsavory way! This is a surface response to something that is too devastating and unspeakable to bring to light. It’s going to take me the rest of my life to figure it out and find a way back to my “normal” self, if that still exists. Goes all the way back to my childhood.

C.L.A.S

Apr 27

•

Replying to

Everything is speakable, even the unspeakable. I wasn’t trying to compare. People have been through the most horrific detrimental experiences throughout this life. I wonder if you could capture that rage for people to know they’re not completely alone. (this platform here most definitely isn’t suited for such reality, but there is always a place for such expression.) Forgiveness of the situation, the person and yourself truly is miraculous in healing understanding anything. Even unspeakable disgusting diabolical things 🤍

Edited

Carah Fury

Apr 26

•

Hi... long time no write.... lol. Thought I would jump on the bandwagon again... or at least try. Here is my poem for April 26th - Dream Spill

Two of me,

young and free,

looking for a heart to hold.

One tried her,

one tried him,

in an effort to behold.

With intrigue and haste,

we kissed and embraced,

each chasing a perfect lover.

In the end, he triumphed,

we joined to uncover

young love and bewitchment.

Enveloped in arms,

to experience our essence,

the rapture of enrichment.

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 26

•

Replying to

This is BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The last line is a KNOCKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “the rapture of enrichment.” becomes a life mantra, a way of moving forward with mindfulness and a vision that speaks of hope, fulfillment, happiness, joy, and the bounty of exuberant experiences! How can one EVER go wrong with that? IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!! There is no right or wrong time to contribute! Wisdom lies in the edges of your instincts and tells you when it’s ideal to put a foot forward; oftentimes, it turns out to be something stunning and breathtaking!

Genevieve

Apr 26

•

Day 25 - Noted in Passing

The clouds have caught a sublime sunset,

In my periphery it keeps passing by

Peeking out between houses

Passing through intersections

At stoplights and stop signs,

I cannot pause to enjoy it,

I pick up my phone and blindly take a photo,

Maybe I’ve caught the moment, maybe not.

A turn east and the sun sets in my rearview

Saying goodbye to the day as the weekend begins.

Mark Keller

Apr 26

•

Replying to

You have given sparkle to the mundane!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “The clouds have caught a sublime sunset,” as though the “sunset” is trying to hide itself as it goes down and “the clouds” catch its intent! WHAT A WONDERFUL AND DIFFERENT WAY TO EXPRESS THE SAME OLD, SAME OLD!!!!!!!!!!! Even the speaker notes its playful game and attempts to capture it—whether yes or no is immaterial—as the day sinks into the weave of “the weekend”. There are times when we write something and may not think much of it at the time, but later realize how porofound and truthful it becomes, when we give it the time it needs to settle and find itself.

Mark Keller

Apr 26

•

Day 25

Manmade Landfill

Locals toppled an ATV—

a forgotten has-been—

obsolete and sand-buried

in material graveyard of

beach-baked dominoes

dessicating in sunny disposition.

C.L.A.S

Apr 26

•

Day 25:

Noted in passing

C.L.A.S

As Big As Trees

That DENSE vulgar melting tar smell, climbing up and through a tricky obstacle course/ ninja acrobatic kick swing makes way to school rooftop now after hours being told multiple times (“it’s dangerous”) not to sit- experimenting with leafy green tokens, and found half smoked cig-butts often stolen from friends mother, gross/menthol taste lingers around, play running back-and-forth, tacky floor gumshoed down for a micro-sec, tag you’re it can you catch me, found a spot to hide, will you see where I’ll be doing cartwheels, anything imagined from our creative minds a haven away from all that finicky adult babble.

Curly Q crouched down to level ground, collecting big thick sticks fixated on building her fortress.

Higher Perspective

Grown children knowing what’s up

Limit pushing fun.

Mark Keller

Apr 26

•

Replying to

A reminder of youth in all its experimenting perversity and superhero bravado. I like the mix of present-day reflection and the in-the-moment experience! For me, this WORKS!!!!!!!!!! I have the best of both worlds, and the frustrations of highminded youth determined to accomplish a task, in spite of annoying interruptions! POWER IN POETRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Genevieve

Apr 25

•

Day 24 - Grounded

Two unrelated little poems, one more seriously written than the other.

Edge of the world

As my toes sink in the sand

Cold water rushes

–

There once was a person so online,

They realized they were feeling, well… not fine,

So they got off their a**,

And went to touch grass,

They enjoyed a day in the sunshine

Adam Gary

Apr 25

•

Replying to

😂

Gallagher Green

Apr 25

•

Replying to

I love those both. That second one is funny. LOL

Mark Keller

Apr 25

•

Day 24

Perfect Peace

Indoor-outdoor carpet holds decades of spilled liquids and sand, a hard-scrabbled life, insistent upon memories.

Ghosts inhabit different realms; the living left this space in search of more stimulation. Reluctant familiarity prompts a changing of the guard, to ensure the integrity and endurance of age: mindful of

perfect peace.

C.L.A.S

Apr 25

•

DAY 24:

“Grounded"

Touch the ground with your hands or feet. What do you feel? Write a poem connecting your body to the earth.

C.L.A.S

Mother I Am:

Quiet harsh truths bring me down to my knees

our destructive nature transitions over time to calmer rhythmic cycles

now young children patching up undulating cracks, let’s put this on slow

diminish repeat breathing in vibrant visionary progressive essence, we’re all merely

a speck of dust scratching heads in a hurricane tunnel, abusing ones emotional/mental physical health starving dreams of consciousness, stars floating around precisely calculated confusion all wrapped up in a pretty whimsical vantablack bow.

Mark Keller

Apr 25

•

Replying to

Self-awakenings are the most breathtaking! “now young children patching up undulating cracks,”—what a PHENOMENAL line!!!!!!!!!!!!! “our destructive nature transitions over time to calmer rhythmic cylces”—if that’s NOT truth, I don’t WHAT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “all/wrapped up in a pretty whimsical vantablack bow.” desensitizes this world with a level that is not onlyt appropriate, but speaks to the very remoteness in which we all live and move and have our being! There is such a disattachment in this poem, that the brokenness of the world no longer takes on any significance. The title acknowledges ownership, the responsibilities of the role, and a keen sense that, as amiss as this entire planet is, there is still a glimmer that pervades the entire text, a reason to plug on: the “…children patching up undulating cracks,…slow/diminish repeat breathing in vibrant visionary progressive essence…stars floating around precisely calculated confusion…”—adds up to that “vantablack bow.” absorbing the light and trying, in vain, to deregulate and unwind us, so that we fail in such misery that life becomes unbearable and overwhelming! Humans have resilience, the likes of which nothing can stop because Beliefs, Faith, Hope, and the humility of being give us the strength needed to overcome all potential misgivinbgs and hopelessness, for we are meant to survive, and this poem is direct evidence of that fact. Power is constructed through the precise placement and potency of words! A STELLAR example of unending beauty and hope!

Gallagher Green

Apr 25

•

Day 23:

"Text Conversation"

I think this turned out less like a poem and more like a micro story. LOL

Title: Used Number

Be there by 8

Love you

24/4/25 6:34 pm

See you then

Love you too

24/4/25 6:37 pm

You still coming?

24/4/25 8:46 pm

You okay?

24/4/25 9:29 pm

Call when you get this

24/4/25 10:34 pm

Guess what happened?

Right, I forgot

16/5/25 4:34 pm

I miss you

16/5/25 4:35 pm

They say this will help

I started a new job. It sucksBut they all do.

Long hours, but the people are nice enough that I probably won’t murder them

I still love you. I don’t think that will ever go away.

09/8/25 9:57 am

I quit my job. Probably a bad idea, but like you always

Said, the best ideas are bad

Guess that’s why we work.

Two bad ideas in love.

“Two bad ideas in love” That needs to be a movie! LMAO

03/21/26 6:12 pm

I fucking miss you so much

24/4/26 7:03 pm

Who is this?

24/4/26 7:06 pm

I should ask you that.

24/4/26 7:08 pm

I just got this phone number

24/4/26 7:10 pm

Okay, I’ll stop messaging

24/4/26 7:11 pm

Are you ok?

24/4/26 7:12 pm

Yeah, I’m fine.

This number used to be a friend's

24/4/26 7:13 pm

Tell me about them

24/4/26 7:14

Mark Keller

Apr 25

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Replying to

The connection—discovered to be mistaken—becomes one that finds synchronicity and bonding in a way that takes the narrative in a new direction and expands the possibility for furtherance! A poem tells a story. This beocmes another way humans connect with each other, identify in mysterious ways that aren’t explainable, but then that becomes the genesis for creating new and different histories, enlarging relationship circles, expanding our knowledge of one another as like beings on the same planet. To find facors that support unconscious needs adds to the mystique and the intrigue! When the revelation comes about, what has already been established is that both parties are getting what each needs from the other, in order to fulfill unstated needs and assuage whatever angst has arisen from this encounter! The fact that it ends on a probing question of learning more, not only endears it to the reader, but cements understanding as something universal in the experience and uncertainty of life. This poem could spawn an entire cycle of poems revolving around this one theme and branching out as far as you wish to let it go! This is FABULOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gallagher Green

Apr 26

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Replying to

Thank you so much! After writing this it honestly felt like it could be turned into the beginnings of a novel more than a poem. But I default to novels. Occupational hazard. LOL

Mark Keller

Apr 26

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Replying to

It can be BOTH!!!!!!!!!!!! You never have to limit yourself! You can make anything you like, as long as you can satisfy yourself, first and foremost! If you do that, others will gravitate to you!

C.L.A.S

Apr 24

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Day 23:

"One-Sentence Poem"

Challenge: Write a poem that is only one long sentence. Let it wander and loop like thought.

OK, this is straight off of Google. Asked the Oracle to tell me the longest recorded English written sentence?

“In the "Molly's Monologue" section of the work, you can find the sentence which runs 4,391 words long. However, Jonathan Coe's The Rotter's Club currently holds the record with a single sentence that is 13,955 words long. And yes, that sentence in Coe's book is grammatically correct, loosely speaking.”

I’m actually starting to write longer sentences these days. Yet I often tend to indulge with shorter line brakes when writing poetry. This for me is my long sentence/poem.

C.L.A.S

Leap-Forward

Your tonal frequency captured me reverse first my aura was one whom distinguished your constant spellbound progression full disclosure of me us two muses most in need of each other blooming endless fractal flowers best intergalactic bouquets connected yet physical touch missing ceiling about to crash broken glass scattered throughout earth’s playground I’m on outskirts forgotten ledge looking past 10 billion light years galactic universe hovering between wormholes wonder will you catch up for you are it.

Mark Keller

Apr 24

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Replying to

Yesssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, it’s a run-on and who cares? IT WORKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This frees you to just write and allow yourself to play, LOOK what you’ve created!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!! You can make a haibun out of this, if you wish, make derivative poems out of it, create a series of poems that explore different facets of its contents!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You’re stepping out of your comfort zone, here, and this will allow you to expand your range, your voice, your ability to CONQUER your fears and embrace possibility as the ONLY REALITY YOU NEED TO CONSIDER IN YOUR WIRTING, for if you can make something believable and convincing, that’s all you nedd!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TALK ABOUT SPECIAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Genevieve

Apr 23

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Day 22 - Doorway Moment

Conceptually this prompt is a lot of fun - I actually have a few lines from other poems I started that maybe I'll turn into something more later. Side note: I wasn't 100% sure where I was going with this when I started this one other than I had the first line and it was flowing better than the others I'd written today (so it was actually longer than 2-3 lines and felt like it had an ending).

If I press send, I have lost another friend

We’ve reached the end. Did we have a good run?

Sure, we had some fun, but it’s done.

Is it courage I lack, is that why I slack

On these words I can’t take back? No

I have to grow, it’s time you know.

I loved you, but I can’t do this anymore.

-----

Bonus tiny poem because I was trying to finish something else and instead wrote this...

Knowing it will close

I linger in this doorway

Loath to let go yet

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 24

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Replying to

This is an exquisite haibun!!!!!!!! Even thougfh you’re rhyming, the haiku clarifies and deepens the main body with gallant and noble force! The tugging heartstrings that “I linger in this doorway/Loathe to let go yet” bring the consternation to a head because “yet” is the pivotal word that hangs on, even “Knowing it will close”. There’s pain, promise, and persistence. I wonder about the word “anymore.” at the end of the single last line of the main body. I mention this because it suggests a finality that contradicts ?Loath to let go yet”. If the word “anymore.” is removed, including the period, the phrase and the thought becomes open-ended and uncertain. The word “yet”, at the end of the haiku suggests a shred of hope, still. By leaving the end of the main body open and uncertain, possibility remains a possibility for the future, even if it never happens. In the world of the poem, that provides a truth to allow the reader to keep mulling it over and keeps the conversation going. This is getting down to brass tacks, but it’s just a thought. It’s brilliant and, in every way, causes one to think and linger on its contents and its message!

Genevieve

Apr 24

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Replying to

Thanks! Even though it wasn't intentionally a haibun, the haiku was just a bonus little poem that came to me when I went back to work on another one I had started. Interesting interpretation when you read them together though.

Mark Keller

Apr 25

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Replying to

The clarity and startling relevance that exist between the two support it as a haibun, even though it wasn’t intended as such. Haiku can have great relevance where we might think it doesn’t fit. It’s VERY powerful and just oozes with truth!!!!!!!!!!!

Gallagher Green

Apr 22

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Day 19:

"Personal Ritual"

You might call it a habit or a ritual

eye of the beholder.

But does it matter?

It is just part of my life, your life, or someone else's.

We just continue on day after day with our rituals and habits

wondering if they hold power over us like we think they do.

With or without

life continues on.

Mark Keller

Apr 22

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Replying to

Thought-provoking, truthful, and powerful! I think our rituals and habits help us to take hold of life and be able to deal with it in personal ways! Otherwise, we wouldn’t have any coping mechanisms and we’d flounder! This captures the essence of baseline human life! WELL, WELL DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gallagher Green

Apr 23

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Replying to

Thank you very much. I'm not really sure what my goals were writing this, it was more of just my feelings towards the prompt, maybe a little stream of consciousness. It does seem like it must be something that bugs me because I clearly have an opinion. LOL

Gallagher Green

Apr 22

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Day 20:

"Pocket Poem"

I have been carrying a pocket knife since I was probably eight years old. It has become the most important tool to me. I now have two in my pocket at all times, and I have gained a reputation for their always being razor sharp. I might forget my wallet or money when I leave the house, but I always have a pocket knife.

Title: A Tool

Point of a needle

Razor edge mirroring light

Smoothly folding click

Life worn thin over cool stone

Waiting for use in dark cloth

Mark Keller

Apr 22

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Replying to

The very essence of a pocket knife: a trusted friend, just like a pet—companionable, goes through the grindings of life and, like its owner, suffers the wearing-down of age and the repeated honings to maintain its usefulness! A message of the importance of care, respect, and consideration of something that’s an implement with lifelong value and comfort!

Gallagher Green

Apr 22

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Replying to

It is something that once you are used to having, you can't live without. It is a shame they are so often viewed as weapons instead of the tools they are.

Mark Keller

Apr 22

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Replying to

Very true! I used to collect knives for their sheer beauty! When treated well, they not only offer you a lifetime of enjoyment, but they’re useful in so many ways!

Mark Keller

Apr 22

•

Day 21

Dunno

What r u doing?

Dunno

Waiting?

Dunno

Who told u?

Dunno

So ur waiting?

Dunno

For what?

Dunno

What do u know?

Dunno

r u an idiot?

Dunno

What r u then?

Dunno

I'm gone.

Where?

U speak?

Dunno

What?

Dunno

Right.

Dunno

I'm sure u don't.

Dunno

How does it feel?

Dunno

U r a moron.

Dunno

I know that game.

Dunno

Easy 2 play.

Dunno

Who's the dummy?

Dunno

Dunno?

No.

Figures.

Genevieve

Apr 22

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Day 21 - Text Conversation

I thought about writing something serious, but decided I just wanted to write something that was a bit of fun instead.

Ring, Ring

Hey, do you have a moment to chat?

I do, I just got back to my flat.

Oh, great, can I just come round?

This news will likely astound.

Should I be sitting down?

No, it’s good news, you won’t frown.

omg, can you please just tell me?

I’m getting anxious ‘bout what it could be.

Are you sure I can’t come by?

Not if you won’t tell me why.

Fine, I’ll give you a small hint!

Oooh, I just found a peppermint!

Are you even paying attention?

Your excitement is beyond comprehension.

Sorry, so what were you saying?

The hint is something my finger’s displaying…

Wait, are you saying what I think you are saying?

Ok, there’s no sense in anymore delaying!

That’s right, I’m getting married!

WHAT? SO EXCITED, I’M DEAD, I’M BURIED!

So, meet me at the bar at 8?

Yes! Can’t wait to celebrate!

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 22

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Replying to

This is good! Snappy! And so REAL! It is fun and lively, and keeps the reader intrigued! I like the side-by-side setup, which adds to its charm and attracts the eye! This is a good exercise in flexing dialogue muscles, which always need exercising! GREAT JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Genevieve

Apr 22

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Day 20 - Pocket Poem

A day late and the poem... short 😉 But catching up on yesterday with a tiny poem inspired by my currently vacant pockets.

Feeling through the dark

Nothing but a desperate hope

Something will be found.

Mark Keller

Apr 22

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Replying to

A feeling of real nerves and uncertainty lives in this! Again, the power of short is right here and so palpable, you can sense it with what's not said and the implications implied!!!!!!!!!!! GREAT WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

C.L.A.S

Apr 22

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Day 21:

"Text Conversation"

Write a poem as a dialogue between two people texting—but don't tell us who they are. Let the clues emerge in the exchange.

Texting, we’re in the future here floating with chips and implants speaking to one another telepathically.

Suggestive not explicit yet I blacked it out just in case!

C.L.A.S

Scarlett Rendezvous

Thinking

Meet me down the block after work I’ll be waiting for you

at our favourite spot.

Thinking

OK, I took the day off anyway I’ll wear my white lace slip

Thinking

Perfect, silky smooth and elegant rides up easy.

Thinking

Someone’s steaming hot today, I’ll bring some ice to cool you down before I rev you up

Thinking

I can’t wait.

Thinking

See you soon

Mark Keller

Apr 22

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Replying to

The vibe is there, but it's still all right because the implication is what shows forth. That takes a lot of skill to be able to show intention, without being overt and on-the-nose! I like it! It feels balanced and considered, the front for underpinnings that exist, but are not stated! EXCELLENT JOB IN COMMUNICATING the hidden with subtlety and finesse! I agree with you that it's better to hide it. Even though its mask is innocent, it does speak with an adult nature and is too much for unseasoned eyes! WELL DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

C.L.A.S

Apr 22

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Replying to

Thanks, this is set in the future (2045) a married couple (of 25 years) holding the spice of forever 🔥

Gallagher Green

Apr 20

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Day 18

"Unexpected Guest"

In the world of Otakus (the Japanese words for anime and manga fans) there is what they call 2D crushes, when you have a crush on a fictional character. So I decided to use that idea and write of the fictional character Yukari Yukino from the anime movie The Garden of Words, it is also a novel. They are but beautiful pieces of art that I highly recommend. They are very poetic in style. The last line is the translation from a poem in the Man'yōshū.

(Note: Sorry if any of you see this as a double post, I seem to be having trouble with disappearing posts again.)

Title: 2D Friend

You come to sit near, traveling from fiction to reality

With your words I learned of the words of Man'yōshū

Your eyes gazed through worlds to tell of what you love

Eyes that see the world in words

A world that didn’t give you the love you deserved

Too small to see what you see in the rain

Your touch on the rain dampened petals of beauty

A beauty mirrored in your being upon your world

And now my world

Shall we sit and watch ripples of raindrops on this pond?

Even if rain comes not, I will stay here, with you

Mark Keller

Apr 21

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Replying to

This is simple and stunning! Your seventh and eighth lines are breathtaking for their individuality and uniqueness!!!!!!! "You come to sit near, traveling from fiction to reality/Even if rain comes not, I will stay here, with you" gives closure to the poem, as it makes cyclic completion and lends strength, resilience, and order to the poem; gives it the backbone to allow it to stand on its own and maintain a commanding presence!!!!!!!! Compassion, empathy, understanding, and loyalty. Powerful human emotions that present themselves to our use! This is touching, poignant, and full of life, Gallagher! WELL DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gallagher Green

Apr 21

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Replying to

Thank you! I have always found this anime movie and novel very inspiring, and this poem is an extension of that, which is why I used the last line of the famous tanka. Not only is it a tribute to the beautiful tanka that I love dearly, but it really did tie up the end of the poem nicely. Everything you said about it makes me feel really great because compassion, empathy, understanding, and loyalty are what The Garden of Words is truly about. So it makes me really happy that I was able to evoke those same emotions. Thank you!!!

Heather Hughes

Apr 20

Day 10: 5 steps. I have teen and adult kids so this made me think of what going out on their own may feel like.

5 Steps from Here.

Five steps from here and I'd be out the door.

Behind me, warmth and a well-worn floor.

In front, adventure waits — do I answer the call?

The smell of cake and the hum of the known,

So many things here I have grown,

Tugs at my heart as I look behind.

Out there the birds sing a happy song,

New dreams are something I’ve longed for so long,

Free to explore the day.

Grip the handle and breathe in deep,

What to let go and what to keep,

I'll have to pick a way.

Mark Keller

Apr 20

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Replying to

This is very perceptive and comes from experience, which makes it authentic and feel real. It just goes to show that, in poetry, a little goes a LONG way!

Heather Hughes

Apr 20

Replying to

Thank you! Art so often mimics life!

Heather Hughes

Apr 20

another poem I thought I'd posted but seem to have not stuck...if they have let me know and I'll delete.

Day 5: color report. I wrote my first day 5 as blue skis, but that one just felt better for the later sky prompt, so I redid this one with green. Each color word is a shade of green. the poem is told from the perspective of 3 boys. One younger one and his older cousins. Line one is the young one, the 2nd by the pre-teen, and the 3rd by the teenager. (my nephew and my sons). I have an AI image to go with each stanza but not sure how to share those.

Ode to green and growth.

Sprout: When will it sprout! I’m ready now. They need the dark to start. They don’t rush. They don’t know how.

Willow:

It just tickled my face!

In the breeze, it bends but doesn’t break.

It teaches strength in softer things.

Fern

I touched it and it ran away!

They fold when they are unsure.

Be calm and still and it might choose to play.

Pine

It's so tall, I bet it touches the sky!

Deep roots help it grow strong.

We are all small in the midst of one who reaches so high.

Moss

It’s like the ground grew hair!

It grows where others can’t.

Slow to grow but ever present, persistence there.

Clover

Look! This one has four leaves!

Good find. They say that’s lucky.

A kind of luck you shouldn't rush.

Glow

They blink at me and then fly away!

They talk with light.

Don’t hold them too long or the lights will fade to gray.

Hollow

Look! A hole beneath that tree!

I think animals might go there to sleep.

I sit there when I want to just be.

Thistle

I tried to pluck it, but it pricked my hand!

We shouldn’t touch it, though the bees sure can.

Some things are best left where they stand.

Patina

This gate was once bright but now it’s not!

It changes slow with rain.

I think it suits us, weathered or not.

Muddy seeds to tall, tall trees —we all grow at our own pace. What grows in your world?

Mark Keller

Apr 20

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Replying to

Very well done!!!!!!!!!! I like the different voices! I can visualize the ages, something which is DIFFICULT to achieve, if attentionlacks when putting words to voices! What is remarkable is the range of each voice gives it the flexibility to perhaps use language that is more sophisticated than its age, which is an area of GREAT CREATIVE EXPLORATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A wonderful and expressive use of color and how it affects different ages!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Heather Hughes

Apr 20

Replying to

Thank you so much! It took a while to separate the preteen and the teen voices.

Mark Keller

Apr 21

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Replying to

It does, but if you've got the voices in your head, they come out authentic!

Heather Hughes

Apr 20

Day 1: April fools. I'm not sure I can claim full authorship of this. I am just the ghost writer.

The Other Woman

(by Dahlia, Queen of His Heart)

Long before she darkened his door, there was me.

I loved him first.

Why won't she leave us be?

This situation is the worst!

Me, a woman of high grace.

He shouldn't be tempted by her allures.

She is just another pretty face.

It's my affection he truly pre'fur'es.

She paints her lids and styles her hair.

I'm his black-haired beauty - those tricks will never win his heart.

I stare her down with my green-eyed glare.

I vow to tear her pretty little world apart!

Hand in hand, so smug she must be.

She may think she won.

But I know his heart belongs to me -

I'll claw her eyes out before all is done.

Our bond is true and without flaw.

No ring will change that.

I'll defend our bond by wit or by claw.

I am his queen, not just some cat!

Mark Keller

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Clever! This works: "Long before she darkened his door, there was me./I am his queen, not just some cat!" The continuity comes full circle and brings with it a charm and sensibility that erases the grain of April Fool's! Besides, throw him out with the bathwater and keep the cat! Far more worth it!

Genevieve

Apr 22

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Replying to

Hehe, I liked the hint in "pre'fur'es" 😉

Mark Keller

Apr 20

•

Day 20

A Citizen For Life

I have a watch that’s ten years old,

a Citizen, for years of marriage cold

The devil dealt his cards, I left my parents’ house,

I wed a functional alcoholic as my chosen spouse

At eighteen years my senior, of children she had a son,

with me there never would be children, no, not even one!

I did this as a business deal, else I’d never leave,

this watch has spared my life from the one I would have grieved

C.L.A.S

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Nice, naïve hopes walking us into deep dark waters.

Mark Keller

Apr 21

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Replying to

Thanks, Heather!

Mark Keller

Apr 21

•

Replying to

Always the case.

Herb Hagell

Apr 20

•

DAY 07:

"Stranger Moment"

Write down the last line you overheard in public or online (yes, even on a Zoom call). Begin your poem with that line and let it lead you somewhere unexpected.

In the meat department At the grocery store, woman searched her shopping cart. The butcher touched her shoulder and asked 'are you missing something?' Their eye's met and recognition flamed. but I was not quite up to poetic nonsense at the time because...

i woke with half a mind

and no idea what the other half

had gotten itself into

if you find it laying about

give it a good kick for me

send it back where it belongs

unless it's fully engaged

you have my permission

to add your unique flair

cause this is a stranger moment

and you don't want to miss

the opportunity to burn along.

Mark Keller

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Ah! I like the flavor of this, the injection of the self into the poem, and the fact that it goes to a place off the beaten track! It's a marvellous example of the mind's ability to divest itself from itself, to chastise and to try to put it back into a more "regular" frame, the kind that allows things just to happen and goes along for the ride! You pull this off with exemplary flair, Herb!

C.L.A.S

Apr 20

•

Let’s see if the third time is a charm.

Day 19: "Personal Ritual”

C.L.A.S

Dedicated Devotion

7 AM every day I get up no matter if I haven’t even slept, which is more often than not.

Sleepless nights, riddle my nerves birds already chipping, 5:29 AM. I’ll close my eyes again till complete wake.

6:18 AM dream weaving through people in an underground abandoned shopping mall, curving turning and swerving feet felt to be smooth roller skates. Attached naturally weaving sliding gliding in between people, coasting as melted snake ice bends twisting around this one corner vroom vroom Vroom, plethora of bikers on modern jet-racers. I Cut sailing straight edge past alligators going through top secret garage flash of a turtle opens a dark hidden tunnel cavern to pristine lush manicured/neighbourhoods expensive gardens so brightly kept going grooving down little hill where construction still waits, I have to go back to sleep now.

7 AM no matter what admiral/general clock rising butt out of bed. Nothing better than what I call my glorious morning shower imbued with rich amber aromas.

A gentle humid air brings distant watered down memories of constant fires burning smoke/fumes of who knows what, submerging with contained crop burnt ends. Annoying car alarm fighting sounds of main street car/trolley riding tracks repeating echo bouncing besides slow paced vehicles. Beep beep beeep/ hooonK in distance.

Oh, how I miss you Bharat!

Easy going yet Disciplined. Cycling through my different personal daily journals, writing learning how to paint with words. I often ask myself what is poetry, after I read a 6:30 am daily poem sent to my email at 8:45 AM.

My kefir with a pinch of vitamin C crystals, and a good heap of collagen powder sits waiting for me roughly around 11:45 AM. I’ll drink that bad boy down before I indulge in a great lunch of some sort. Today is a simple one. An overflowing bowl of cantaloup and a few huge tablespoons of garlic, lemon hummus with fresh pita. I think I’ll even open a pack of wasabi seaweed. And of course, two squares of most fabulous 70% dark chocolate with caramel shards.

Ooh La La, father stopped by asked him to pick me up some kefir, those thicker ones in yoghurt containers. To go along with my wild frozen blueberries, vacuum sealed and stored in a box.

Saturday freedom

Afternoon meditations

Lost in daily life.

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Okay, That'll come out when you're ready to share it.

C.L.A.S

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Yeah, this is all a great writing practice. There’s a plan for all that coming soon…

The exploration is endless, and it only gets better the more you do.

Mark Keller

Apr 21

•

Replying to

Yes!

Mark Keller

Apr 20

•

Day 19

Diabetic Set and Sensor Changes

Pancreas is dead

Insulin set change three days

Sensor change weekly

C.L.A.S

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Oh, I know. Each day you learn so much simply by writing/reading, observing and sharing. And that changes drastically hopefully. Definitely being more playful and free as the days go on.

C.L.A.S

Apr 20

•

Replying to

Gosh, I keep trying to post day 19. And on my end, it’s not posted. Can you see it? This website is so buggy.

Edited

Heather Hughes

Apr 21

Replying to

Glad I wasn't the only one who's poems were not posting

C.L.A.S

Apr 19

•

Day 18

"Unexpected Guest"

Imagine something or someone shows up unexpectedly today. Write a poem about how that changes the energy of the day.

Kurt Cobain popped up a few times throughout the evening when I was scrolling through YouTube. Nice, Nirvana’s MTV unplugged performance. Reminding me when I was younger hopping on the subway. Downtown there was this underground record shop where I used to buy extremely raw/rare CDs/cassettes and videotapes of Nirvana among other bands. So I chose to write about him stopping by my place.

C.L.A.S

Kurt

Charcoal dust fills the air.

Haven’t done this in a long while

captured with bold and delicate strokes.

I’ll give this one as a gift for Mother’s Day.

Sipping lukewarm ginger, lemon hibiscus tea with raw honey.

Warmth of conversation comforted our focussed stares

Me transfixed, him enraptured.

We both haven’t been exposed to such vulnerability since pastel skies

brought limerence to forgotten innocence.

Mark Keller

Apr 19

•

Replying to

This feels finished, fine, and tremulous! The last line discovers the pain of an imbalanced attraction--transfixed is far more ensconced than enraptured, for enraptured can mean a serious intent, but its follow-through doesn't have the same connotation as transfixed! For a young person, a teenager, the strength of transfixed becomes an overwhelming emotional draw that one doesn't fight, but succumbs to and becomes cocooned in! The opening line: "Charcoal dust fills the air." sets a tone that says we're in a place of haze, of a murkiness that is in its own time in the past. Matching first and last lines becomes proof that this feels finished and the capture of an exquisite memory sets the speaker's breath fluttering with waves of tenderness and a puppy love that brings out the most idyllic memories. This combination is JUST EXQUISITE: "Charcoal dust fills the air./We both haven't been exposed to such vulnerability since pastel skies/brought limerence to forgotten innocence." That last line "...limerence to forgotten innocence." is BREATHTAKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is a built-in imbalance, which details the nature of that relationship with the care, consideration, and longing it demands, coupled with the innate desires of the speaker to live in that moment forever. C.L.A.S, this is a POWERHOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

C.L.A.S

Apr 19

•

Replying to

Thanks this one flowed before I could even think of what I was writing.

Mark Keller

Apr 20

•

Replying to

That happens and it's an absolute gift when it comes that easily!

C.L.A.S

Apr 18

•

Day 17 Revision: suggested it was missing some hidden truths.

C.L.A.S

Mesmerized Maze

Brick masonry holds

Growing vines turn with sunshine

Invocations bleed.

Sloooowly moooving bump, bump, bump, heavy, dump, dump truck, garbage man Driving through tight back alley, sharp as a katana blade LOUD exhaust bounces between multi layered spraaayyed garages and tatted up alleyways, keeping secrets

young lovers dare not say, melted cigarette butts sizzzzle past mixing with green leaf roaches.

Dandelions sprout

Run off water nurtures cracks

Asphalt heats mirage.

Time of year, where wannabe hood boys hang out yelling over each other while mother cooks Italian food in house, now taken up a new hobby barley water steep crafting cheers hustling expensive used cars flexing at oddly hours.

Clusters of ray beams

Understanding protector

Weeping willow shades.

Friends with no specific homes roam together each evening for communal BBQ’s bought with collected money throughout day, bringing on another party.

Happy grass comforts

Blanket holding sorrow true

Moon folding over.

Nina Simone singing from third floor rooftop that she put a spell on you.

Romance brings flowers

Dancing galaxies become

One floating above.

An inverted cavern who gentle roars, open for you to explore

raw gems wait to be chipped away revealing their unique sparkle to shine bright.

Flickering candle

Slowly burning down to ground

A whispers wish gone.

Edited

Mark Keller

Apr 19

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Replying to

I LOVE this! Why? It feels complete! I think my i itial attempt at the first version was me getting in my own way! The haikus and haibuns fill this out very very well, and fill in the gaps that make the first version feel somewhat incomplete. I'm quite sure, years from now, when and if you come back to this poem, its' going to change. You life experience will be greater and your knowledge will fill out and emerge. Who knows? You may even like it still when you read it then, but I wouldn't be surprised if it changed. Don't worry about that, now! It's beautiful as it lies on the page, and I think you've given the poem its due in letting it carve a fuller and more detailed picture. It doesn't take much, but I can see that adding 6 stanzas to the original 5 has made a much richer, deeper, and even more connected piece! When I get to the end of reading this version, I think: WOW! Now this is SOMETHING! It satisfies like a good meal, sticks to the mind with intention and flows smoother than lava! the poignancy embedded in the poem is deeper, and I attribute that to the haikus and haibuns! They're what encapsulate deep emotions and make them sparkle and glitter as so many fireflies light up an empty space! The opening gives the poem a clearer framework, from which the rest flows and spreads. When "Invocations bleed.", there's a problem. We don't know what it is, but it sets a tone that's heavy-but-balanced. The transition from that to the "dump truck" not only beccomes a natural one, but it feels inevitable, now, as though it was meant to be here. When words, such as "nurtures" and "heats" appear in the same stanza, there becomes a yin and yang that finds its balance in the healing and tearing apart of images. That is now the TRUTH and essence of this poem: images. They're haunting, riveting, bring a sense of desolation and hope, both, to a world in flux and wringing its proverbial hands at the insensitivity and incoherence of the images that fuel it. "Weeping willow shades." WHAT A LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The "Weeping Willow" exists in swamps because it needs so much water that it won't survive, otherwise. this line becomes an elegy for the entire poem, for the fragile tree must be in a constant source of water, a source of life and striving to keep on; the struggle becomes the "Weeping Willow's" tune, perhaps a mournful cadence that allows it to weather so much, as long as it has its water source. The next haibun reinforces comfort as a necessary element within this world, even though it may be fleeting and doesn't hold everything together. "Happy grass comforts/Blanket holding sorrow true/Moon folding over" attempts to salve a world gone berserk, but it may only be a temporary balm. The last line of the poem brings with it a sadness in "A whispers wish gone." After this, what can be said? This completes real power in this poem, brings it full circle, and discovers that "Brick masonry holds/A whisper's wish gone." That becomes the quintessence of this poem, breathes its longing and unfulfilled desires, with heartache and brevity. I don't think my earlier comments gave you what you discovered yourself!

C.L.A.S

Apr 19

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Replying to

It’s wild the course this poem went on intuitively. A great suggestion to bring more truth within it/make it more complete. Artistic expression/creativity excels when people come together sharing their different perspectives. Thank you.

Mark Keller

Apr 19

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Replying to

You're most welcome!

C.L.A.S

Apr 17

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Day 17

"Street Symphony"

Open a window or step outside. Capture the sounds of your street or building as instruments in a symphony. Write a poem orchestrating them.

Not specific from today, yet a weave of time a playful cacophony I hear mainly throughout the summertime. My apartment backs a colourful labyrinth of hidden alleyways. Creative muse wanted me to bend the prompt a little bit:)

C.L.A.S

Mesmerized Maze

Sloooowly moooving bump, bump, bump, heavy, dump, dump truck, garbage man Driving through back tight alley, sharp as a katana blade LOUD exhaust bounces between multi layered spraaayyed garages and tatted up alleyways keeping secrets

young lovers dare not say, melted cigarette butts sizzzzle past mixing with green leaf roaches

Friends with no specific homes roam together each evening for communal BBQ’s collected money throughout day, bringing on another party

Nina Simone singing from third floor rooftop that she put a spell on you

An inverted cavern who gentle roars, open for you to explore upside down

raw gems wait to be chipped away for their unique sparkle to shine bright.

C.L.A.S

Apr 18

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Replying to

Do you have any suggestions on how I can make it further encompassing/have more of a punch?

Do I need a stronger voice from the observer/speaker?

Mark Keller

Apr 18

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Replying to

What about adding some upper-crust folks and perhaps disdainful reactions to this particular area? What about some average people, aside from the homeless, who make this area their homes? What about mixing up the order of your stanzas and seeing how they play off each other in different ways? I won’t hesitate to flip a line or a stanza, or a whole block of text if i can see something that has potential to change the entire atmosphere! Don’t be afraid to try new things. Put aside what you have and then experiment and have fun with different ways of approaching the material. You have that power and you can use it to GREAT effect! Sometimes a changed word, or altering a word from past to present or vice-versa, can cause you to see the poem in a new light. In terms of the “strength” of the speaker, I think when you find the thread that feels right, that allows the poem the freedom to find a way you hadn’t expected, that’s when I think you might find that the strength of your speaker will speak to you! A lot of times, it’s allowing yourself the freedom to play. If you’re anything like I used to be, it had to be ONE WAY, couldn’t change anything and had to be PERFECT, OR NO GOOD! I’m just beginning to start to shed that persona! It’s taken my entire life, but I’m getting to a place where I’m more comfortable with the writing because I’m letting it breathe and finding ways to accept that change is married to writing, if you want something to find improvement and get closer to what you envision. What about taking the last line and making it the first? It’s a possibility, like an inverted pyramid. Your piece has such power in it that you could literally start with ANY LINE and make the entire thing radiate a completely different vibe! Here’s an example right from your piece: “An inverted cavern, where wannabe hood boys hang out, now taken up a new hobby barley water steep crafting yelling cheers over each other hustling expensive used cars while mother cooks Italian food flexing at oddly hours in house”—do you see how wacky, disjointed, convoluted, and POWERFUL the speaker can be? Use whatever you want here. It’s just as example of what’s possible. I play with language ALL THE TIME because it becomes fun, interesting, full of life and takes on extraordinary aspects I never anticipated. Hope this helps a little. If you want more, please don’t hesitate!

C.L.A.S

Apr 18

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Replying to

Just saw your reply now. I already rewrote a new version now posted.

Herb Hagell

Apr 17

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Day 15

"Mirror Glance"

Look at yourself in the mirror and write a poem in second person ("you"). Be as tender or fierce as the moment requires.

I couldn't decide between good image or bad image. So... I tried both.

"Mirror, Split"

[RIGHT]

You lurching in again!

With your same sorry ass

and sagging, bloodshot eyes.

Your ashen grief

beneath the lids

of a failed flame.

You break my heart.

Hear the faucet croak?

Splashing water

like a baptism too late

won't away the doubt.

[LEFT]

There you are—the bright seeker,

clothed in ink like an alchemist's beaker.

But you're still standing, and I reflect

a man not lost, but circumspect.

Your brow is bare, your face renewed—

I feel your fire, though ere subdued.

You once chased stars through glass—

this down-cast spell can't last.

[RIGHT]

What? Glaring at me,

like I’m the liar.

Like I conjured this

shaven fraud beside me.

His beard drips.

You smell of sweat and disbelief.

You seek the mastery of words,

but your poems are not here.

[LEFT]

Your every pause contains a breath,

and not all quiet portends death

The voice that used to sing,

but silence precedes the spring.

Recall the forge of your dreams—

from those embers, your words stream.

[RIGHT]

Don’t talk to me

in prophetic rhyme.

You burned the maps—

your fire is lost,

you type in circles,

each line a noose

like a failing slip-knot.

[LEFT]

And still you write.

Despite the aching.

That is no fall—

that is the remaking.

Your Sight still stirs,

though dimly shown,

the path you share

where others shone.

[RIGHT]

I think you tire

of choosing and losing.

But...

[LEFT]

You have not failed, dear scribe whose soul

wandered from your table's goal.

Even at your lowest,

you are not alone

when both halves

stare back as one.

Herb Hagell

Apr 17

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Replying to

Yeah. The saggy bits.

Gallagher Green

Apr 18

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Replying to

I really love this. I am so glad you decided to write both sides.

Mark Keller

Apr 18

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Replying to

The first stanza, “(Right)’, has that devastating reversal of “right” being wrong, of that sense that the devil has taken over that side of the conscience and caused the ridiculous to sound crystal clear! In itself, that’s SCARY because of the suggestion that the Self is attacking itself in the most vehement and worst way, a way in which the logcial and rational side of us wouldn’t dare conjure up because of the fear that we’re chastising ourselves, with no defense and no backup! The “(Left)” becomes the eternal optimist, the one who rejcts the negative and only sees the positive and the light within the changed Self, the most optimal that can be found to give a sense of well-being and progression. the difference, here, between the “(Right)” and the “(Left)” becomes a matter of impassioned fervor! The negative side shows its dour self, downtrodden, miserable, lacking all energy and compassion, degraded into accusation and unfair labeling! However, the “(Left)” shows a deftness, a power and precision in its dynamics, a far more powerful, assertive, and stronger defense—always the best offensive weapon to direct attack—and the last line’s assertion “this down-cast spell can’t last” becomes a rousing cry to assemble yourself into a cohesive Self capable of downplaying and eradicating the feeble insults and unfounded betrayals of the “(Right)”. A back-and-forth between demeaning and asserting becomes the balanced fervor that sustains the Self to the end, when it becomes a whole worthy of connection and the two halves that “stare back as one.” do so with infinite completion and progression of the Self as being healed and even more powerful than the dividing halves! Herb, a FABULOUS poem, very self-reflective and honest! Your insights as a writer are immense, well-founded, and grounded in the experience of life, living, and much thought!

Gallagher Green

Apr 17

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Day 16

"Street Symphony"

(Just realized I used day 17 prompt for day 16. Oops. LOL)

I open my window to the silence most never know

The wind blows in its constant exhale of spring

It drowns out the bird song and the lesser noises of nature

Today’s wind whistles its song of spring

Tomorrow’s will bellow with the arrival of summer

Edited

Gallagher Green

Apr 18

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Replying to

I could probably live in a city is I had to, but they are never where I want to be. Okay to visit (if it is a cool city, I like Manchester) but wouldn't want to live there.

Gallagher Green

Apr 18

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Replying to

Silence is something so many don't understand or experience. On a calm day you can hear a freight train on the tracks 10 miles away. Not just the horn or engines, but you can hear the wheels themselves on the track. Must don't believe me when I say that.

I LOVE the idea of separating the first line as its own stanza. That would make the four lines come together much better since it would make the beginning and end match better. Thanks so much for that. I chose bellow because that's what the wind was yesterday and today. LOL It was the kind of wind that your computer monitor on your desk shake, and it was being in today's summer temps (90f). I also couldn't think of a word that fit as a replacement. If I do something with the poem later, maybe another word will come to me. Thanks so much for the great feedback. <3

Mark Keller

Apr 18

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Replying to

Good! I’m glad I was helpful. I’m totally with you on the word “bellow”, as it’s one of those things that, while perhaps disconcerting to the ear, captures the truth of the moment and THAT’S WHAT’S IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, if something comes along that strikes your fancy or is able to equal the force of “bellow”, then that’s great. The poem is stellar and very WORTHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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