Day Twenty-Six Prompt
LONGING I'm the rib of the soul of a tree, bleached anodyne white and mass-produced. I long for the warmth of a hand's touch and a blue pen's essence. Until then, I hang on. I see the sun make its round, first peeking slant through the glass, then directly spotlight me-- near turning me yellow with its severe stare. Then the obnoxious pages weighed down in blue ink and bold writing gloating and cackling about cursive author scribblings of long metaphors and grammar marks that tickled every where and introduced words like passion and drive. Now I wish to understand the vernacular of my prequels. I grow restless, curling my bends like I'd seen my mad writer curl fingers, rap-rapping on her head, when the words don't come fast. But knowing better than to mar my chaste face with scrunched corners, I lay stiff on my back and ponder while shutting out the chatter. Darn them! Then I agonize, what of this yellowed page the sun suntanned? Will Writer pluck and dump me in the trash? Just think, a miffed life is the worst crisis of them all. But what do I know... I'm the rib, perhaps the soul of a tree, bleached anodyne white and mass-produced for the whims and fancies of eccentric people. A first draft of a self-portrait Poem Β© selma
Hey, precious people, I’m not too sure I understood how to do this prompt… Is it on
prompt? Dunno, but I present it to you all here, as this is the poem I worked on today.
I’m including Day 26 today and all the others that came before today.
I’m kinda tired this year, and trying to lighten my workload that this year feels a little
too much like work. (trying to chew too much, too fast).
That said, I’m still enjoying this poetry month enormously as I’m trying to put together
a poetry collection of my own to publish before the year’s over.
Wish me well, please. Thanks, gang. I wish you miracles.
Thanks so much for reading, and happy national poetry writing month.
STOCKPILING
I'm running out of juice this year, dear friends, and I feel terrible I cannot respond promptly to your lovely comments. Only because you're here can I sit at my desk every day this month and work on the prompts. Apologies. So for the remaining ten days of this challenge, I'll add prompt responses to this postβ the newest one at the top. Thanks dearly. Kindly drop me a comment if you read it, and feel so inclined (no pressure). Thanks from the bottom of my heart for being this generous with your time with me this month. I bless you and wish you miracles. Please scroll down if you wish to see the prompt responses of the previous days.
Day Twenty-Five Prompt
LOVE?
Make a plan, comrades, and set for your
dreams a deadline. Prepare
yourself for the arrival of love:
any minute, some day, the whole dayβ
your hair, your nails, your clothes
brush your teeth, floss, and please
practice smiling in the mirror.
And with every effort, you’ll feel love’s
candor walking in your direction.
(Comrads, you must hurry)…
And grabbing a perfumed handkerchief
(shoved into your back pocket), you prance
out the door to chance on love halfway
(Love’s all-consuming; you’ll feel its vibes,
say the rallying cry of love songs).
Love’s zing courses and dilates your
veins and you feign your love debonair.
So genteelly, you walk where love can
spot you in a field of love seekers
Now and then, you sniff the rose-scented
hankie to swell the worth of the search.
Love’s hands will not tremble,
Love’s voice will not stutter,
Love’s feet will not falter
(Love is never clumsy)
The sun abates, and deadlines close.
Moonlight flows to end competition.
There’s nothing rational about love.
Love does not adhere.
Love is mistake-prone.
(Do not hurry love)!
Β© selma
Day Twenty-Four Prompt
A REVIEW OF TWO PRAYERS IN THE YEARS OF THE PANDEMIC
Lovely hometowns, moors of hope with beautiful people
Mired in isolation like lighthouses in unity standing,
May you quickly pulsate with zest and with your life force recovered.
Dearest hometown, still devoid of a regular heartbeat,
Lifeless lays your vigor that once afforded me a proper life.
Beacon of light, I want to be audacious in your streets again.
Sijo Β© selma
Day Twenty-Three Prompt
1. Daybreak and the sun delight us The sky resplendent shown Sweet Earth In blissful moments grace finds us Sets on our heads a crown Of mirth. 2. *Jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The pretty birds repeat Chorused Merry, merrily we welcome Another year of bliss Right now. 3. Sweet spring, new blooms awakening The cold no longer stings No more Loveliest the cherry trees rouse Pale blooms along boughs burst Heads bowed. 4. Against gold rays of elegance Calm thoughts begin to form Delight Oh heart, what charming decadence Do hold me in your fold Afresh. 5. Mine eyes no longer see no more But skin remembers spring Sweet Spring The light, the notes delight my soul That timely nature brings Plenish. Β© selma
*Thomas Nashe was an English playwright born in 1567. He was an important writer of the Elizabethan period who is remembered for his novel The Unfortunate Traveller. He died in 1601 in his early 30βs.
I owe the structure of this poem to Destiny, whose post prompt at The Skeptic’s
Kaddish IL Website indirectly introduced me to the Memento Poetry Form created
by Emily Romano. Springtime is an anniversary that repeats and replenishes our
souls.
Also, my appreciation to Maureen Thorson for prompting me to write a poem that
has multiple numbered sections and setting the poem in a specific place. I’m confi-
dent you can understand where this place was/is.
Day Twenty-Two Prompt
OF SCANT FAME, I BE
Fame is a bee
I’m a country flower
Winged things moor on me
I’m a yellow glower
Fame is a bee
It has a song
And a sting
And has wings
Winged things moor on me
Lowly country flower
Fuzzy is my mane
Lissom every hour
Unabash the sprite
Unabash the bee
Each day a coronation
Earth is my domain
Thriving among the grass
Calm as the dawn is tame
*Fame is a bee.
It has a songβ
It has a stingβ
Ah, too, it has a wing.
I’m of scant fame
Winged things moor on me
Dandelion, my name
Duly, fame is a bee.
*Emily Dickinson’s Fame Is A Bee (1763)
Β© selma
Dandelion Image by geri cleveland from Pixabay
Day Twenty-One Prompt
Begin by reading Sarah Gambitoβs poem βGrace.β Now, choose an abstract
noun from the list below, and then use that as the title for a poem that
contains very short lines, and at least one invented word.
DELIGHT Little human Pygmyhertz No bigger Than a minuteβ More precious Than the air I inhale You fit so Snug in the Cusp of my arm Yesterday Or day before How you upgrade My frequency Pygmy: pint-sized Hertz: megahertz Β© selma
2 minutes 25 seconds reading time
2023 – 2123
Fickle Noise Signals in Humans
For The Next One Hundred Years
PROGNOSTICS
“Yeah, the amplitude varies. Sounds something like this audio,” Murray
was saying, making a breathy crackly audio noise through his teethβ
fluctuations too, and hissing noises. Jacinta nodded and tapped her stylus
on the notepad; she tried to match his rhythm or, at best, attempted to
determine if there was a pattern to the rhythm. “I get it, Murray,” she said
after a while and cleared her throat. He cleared his throat, too, and replaced
his headset. Head bobbing, fingers strumming, he took up that crackly sound
again, but throaty this time. “Bass,” he croaked in her direction. She wrote
something down and paid attention to his fingers. Wrote more while Murray
continued making hissing noises. She rolled her eyes, gave him the stare
again, and pointed to her ear with the stylus. Murray slid the headset off,
let them rest around his neck, and rolled his chair away from the display.
“You were sayingβ” she said. Murray cleared his throat and started to give
her a rundown of the different sounds, explaining each electronic noise signal
and the unwanted residual ones by their scientific names. She wrote. He paced
his words, surprised at how quickly she wrote everything down. He heard the
whistle that escaped from her nostril, watched her wrinkle her perfect noseβ
waited for her to look up approvingly. Seconds passed, and when Jacinta looked
up from her notes, she impaled him with yet another stare. “Um.” He blinked and
shrugged. “Well, I just thought I was going too fast for you to get what I was…”
“Go on, Murray. We don’t have all day. Just stick with the overview for now. I’m
listening.” She looked at her notes, stylus poised. Dr. J told him Jacinta was good,
but Murray never imagined someone not in the field to be this good. He was so
pleased and, by now, utterly in love with her, half in love before she even sat
downβ primarily for not saying anything about his crooked nose. Everyone he
met asked about his nose. He’d seen her eyes settle on his face a second too
long, but she held back from asking. That made her the one. Murray stopped
choosing his words. Hell! She seemed to understand all the scientific terms
he threw at her. Audio engineering was his field of expertise, and he could
talk anyone under the table. He spoke at his usual pace, and she wrote. It
got easy so that while he explained, automatically, his mind took a detour
to fantasyland. Finally, he reached a plateau and was ready to propose to
her when she rose and said, “Let’s take a break. We’ll pick it up right here,”
she tapped the stylus on the pad. “After lunch,” she said almost as an
afterthought.”See you then.” Promptly, he removed the headset, lay it on
the desk, and stood. What had he done wrong? Jacinta crossed the room
swiftly, and all he could do was stare and hear her heels waning as she
walked down the long corridor. “Shit!” He knew right there that this one
was no-nonsenseβ smart, sophisticated, and all business. He wanted to
see Jacinta again. “After lunch,” he whispered as he flung his bag over his
shoulders. He’ll try to do better when they meet again then. He’d show
the lady that he was a professional. Right now, love would have to wait.
The race, always on
Shrewdness on the battlefield
Fickle noise signal
Β© selma
(… for if we don’t fix our cunning ways, we have no future…) radio silence!
- Homage to Dante: What Ails Thee, Trifler? - December 13, 2024
- Do The Southerlies Come For The Wicked Too? - December 12, 2024
- Dectina Refrain: Tinged Living Lessons - December 11, 2024
Good one Selma.
Thanks, sweet Sadje. Xoxo ππΌ
Youβre most welcome
very nicely done, Selma.
much enjoyed π€β¨
I appreciate you saying, dear Destiny. Blessings.
always a pleasure π€
Very nice you write the challenge to prompts. Very interesting write in words. Love it’s.
Aww. Thanks sweet Raj. Blessings.
You are so clever, and your response to the prompt is nothing short of genius. I only wish I could be half that creative when I’ve run out of steam. Cheers! xoxo
Kathryn, dear Friend. You are too kind. Too many words for this challenge. This needs some serious editing. And still itβs lacking clarity. Like I said to another commenter, this scene is being played out in one of those sci-fi screens (I donβt speak sci-fi) and analyzed by future geniuses from a different planet. Theyβre π€¦π»ββοΈ π€¦π»ββοΈ π€¦π»ββοΈ in disbelief that THIS WAS the demise of the human race.
If only humans had the awareness to see back then that they HAD the answersβ¦ and the foresight and wherewithal to mend their ways starting 100 years back when THAT pandemic brought them to their knees. But noβ¦
Iβm delirious, Kathryn. Donβt mind me. I need to write you a longish one. Wait for it my sweet. Bless you.
Ahh! Pronto, my little bridge men – more juice to Selma! Ten more days. We will do it.
First of all, 2 min and change, not! Pihhh, I read as fast as Jacinta writes. π Second, I really like how flawlessly you rounded up this scene, the characters, the works. I wouldn’t mind reading more.
So now, which is your favourite juice? Don’t tell me it’s something green…
More?! What loveliness you say.
More: this scene is played out in one of those sci-fi screens (I donβt speak sci-fi) and analyzed by future scientists from a different planet.
Theyβre head-shaking π€¦ββοΈ π€¦π»ββοΈ depressed that this WAS the demise of the human race.
If only humans had the awareness to see back then that they HAD the answersβ¦ and mend their ways starting 100 years back when THAT pandemic brought them to their knees. But noβ¦
Iβll take a tall mango juice, thanks.
Receive a truckload of blessings. And thank your little men for me. Xoxo
Mmmmmmango! The best choice. Coming up.
Lovely.
The poem makes me think of how I feel when I hold my kitten. I will begin using “pygmyhertz” from now on.
Isnβt that somethingβ that feeling! π
The word is yours too. Please use it – π clap.
Blessings.
Loved your poem. Loved the stockpiling too.
Thanks so much Andrea. And the stockpiling is a good idea methinkso too π blessings.
I ran out of juice much sooner.
You did? But youβre in a different time zone this month. Admirable! π
Blessing you, dear Ruth. π please return to See how I reworked yesterdayβs poem to Colleen for todayβs Emily Dickinson prompt. I kinda like it. π ππΌ XoXo Iβll go see yours too. Xoxo
your memento is truly a breath of fresh air. π
a delightful read for sure.
stunning, Selma π€
Aaaw, thanks for saying that. You inspired it. Thanks. Xoxo
I’m glad π
Most welcome π€
A beautiful set of poems Selma.
I apologize for using your space, Selmaπ
Sadje G, still waiting on your mement ππ€
I was too busy with Ramadan, Eid and A to Z to write for the challenge this week. Besides Iβve never attempted this form before. Free verse is my thing! ππΌπ
Your free verses coverted would make a lovely memento.
I understand π€π€
Thanks ππΌ
Use my space, please. Whatever works. Use me π π like a channel please. π π€ β΅οΈ
Thank you, dear Selmaπ€π€
Thanks a bunch, Sadje. Blessings on your Sunday π
My pleasure
Beautifully penned Selma! π
Cindy dearest. Thanks for this comment and all the others. You will need to forgive me for not responding, but I saw them all. Thanks. How are you my lovely? It’s very quiet over there… Let me know when you need me to jump in and promote you… Lovely, Cindy. Be well. xoxo
One day you will.
Blessings, Sadje. XoXo
ππΌππΌππΌ
This writing is beautiful! πΈπ¦π
Glad you think so, Jennifer. Too bad I cannot paint like you. Your flowers are lovely. π€© xoxo
I feel the sadness. I hope your hometown springs to life soon!
Thanks, dearly, Romana. I always appreciate your encouraging words. Stay sweet. Blessing you. xoxo
Excellent ββ¨π
I appreciate you saying, D.A. Blessings on your new day. xoxo
All that is requires of any creative soul is to be creative when they can. (((Hugs)))
I don’t do NaNoProMo – I have my own favorite prompts that I’ve been writing to every day for years. And if I don’t do a prompt – I find inspiration in nature or my life. We each need to do what is best for us.
So right you are, Jules. xoxo. There are plenty of ways to get inspired. Your way is fantastic. Thanks for visiting and commenting dear one. I wish you miracles.
Blessings to you!
We can all be as creative as we wish.
Even serious folks are creative – science is just a different art. π
Beautifully penned Selma
I appreciate you saying,dear Sadje. Blessings.
ππΌππΌππΌ
Quite an impressive collection! On love, “Prepare yourself for the arrival of love…” this kind of manifesting worked for me. Love will help us fix our cunning ways for a better future.
Thanks to adding to it, dearest JoAnna. Yes, Love will do that when we give it the chance. Thanks for the lovely visit, my friend. I bless you. xoxo
Bless you, Selma. <3
Your poem about love made me feel hopeful. Thank you for that! :*