Saturday, April 18, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT: Write an ode to life’s small pleasures. Perhaps it’s finding some money in the pocket of an old jacket , or just looking up at the sky and watching the clouds go by.

Six Months Later 

Some day last October, the weather getting colder 
There was extreme exposure, my sandal days were over. 
My toes cried, my soul died, the snow flyed. 

Six months of boots, fuzzy hats, snow suits, 
Thinking of warm sand, umbrella drinks in the hand, 
Falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band. 

Now smiling-- morning sun, worst of winter almost done 
Three little birds by my door say the blizzards ain’t no more. 
Singing melodies, sing of fun, sandal days have begun! 

Don’t worry about a thing. Now’s a day to laugh and sing. 
Toes are out, soft and pink, sandal time don’t you think? 
Sky is blue, lawn is grassy. 
Don’t worry be happy.

Friday, April 17, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT: Write a poem that features forgotten technology. Maybe it’s a VCR, or a rotary phone. A cassette player or even a radio.


I think Santa brought it. 
It looked like a small suitcase, 
But inside was magic. 
Place a plastic disk 
On the spinning turntable, 
Drop the needle 
And suddenly sounds! 

We bought more records. 
Most were black vinyl 
But some were bright colors 
Some even had 
Colored pictures 
On their grooved surface. 

We had a choice of 78, 45 or 33 rpm. 
Forty-fives had big holes—played one song. 
Thirty-threes had a gentle turn. 
Seventy-eights went fast, 
We’d have to be ready 
To flip or change. 

Dad was known to spin Mom 
Across the living room 
To dance tunes. 
We heard silly melodies, 
Funny stories, 
And adventures 
To open our imaginations. 

We listened until the grooves wore down 
But left grooves in our memory 
Which can still resonate 
When conditions are right.

Thursday, April 16, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT: (using a prompt from 2017) Write a poem that recounts a creation myth. It doesn’t have to be an existing creation myth, or even recount how all of creation came to be. It could be, for example, your own take on the creation of ball-point pens, or the discovery of knitting. Your myth can be as big or small as you would like, as serious or silly as you make it.


Many, many years ago
When things were not like they are now 
The hippos lived a lovely life
Eating grapes and pomelos.

They played along the river’s edge
Because they feared the water deep. 
All hippos swam in muddy ponds 
Except the two they called the freaks.

Those two dove and swam so much 

Their nose holes moved up on their heads. 
They lost the legs they had in back 
And grew flappy tails instead.

They swam so far they found the sea. 
They learned to sing a lonely wail.
And over time they grew so big
That both of them became a whale.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT: Try to recreate the sounds and timing of a pop ballad, a jazz improvisation, or a Bach fugue. That could mean incorporating refrains, neologisms and flights of whimsy, or repeating/inverting lines or ideas – whatever your chosen musical form would seem to require!

And Further More—Get Off My Lawn!

I’ve said this so often that it prolee makes you sick;
Rap is just bad poetry somebody set to myoozick.
All these guys with chains and knives all tryna make a rhyme.
They’ve got no clue ‘bout meter or the rules set down by time.
They wouldn’t know a sonnet if it punched them in the face
Calling rap words lyrics is a horrible disgrace.

Tuesday, April 14, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT--Write a poem that deals with the poems, poets, and other people who inspired you to write poems.

Two Summer Days 

William Shakespeare and Mary Oliver: 
Both skilled writers, 
Both observers. 
They knew nature’s changing course. 
Each spent time watching 
The grasses in the wind, 
Clouds across the sun. 
Both saw the shifting of seasons, 
The passage of time 
And the fickleness of life and love. 
But doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? 
Still, death can’t brag over Mary and William. 
Their words live on. 

What can I learn 
From two poets 
Born centuries apart 
Whose words live 
Beyond their life? 

If you want love to last
And beauty 
And hope
And joy--

Write it down.
Share it.
Art is long. Life is short.

Monday, April 13, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT: Write a non-apology for the things you’ve stolen.

Not Sorry 

Remember when you saw her weeks ago? 
How smitten you were with those big brown eyes? 
You said, “I’ll bring her home,” and I said, “No!” 
That she’d be trouble and a pain besides. 

You brought her. Then you left her here with me. 
While you were gone away I saw those eyes. 
She made a mess and thought the food was free 
Then cuddled up and wooed me with her sighs. 

One afternoon we went out for a walk 
She has that smile. How could I tell her no? 
I told myself that all we’d do was talk. 
I didn’t realize how far we’d go. 

Your dog is my dog. You can see it’s true. 
Not sorry that she loves me more than you.

Sunday, April 12, 2020


NaPoWriMo PROMPT: Write a triolet. These eight-line poems involve repeating lines and a tight rhyme scheme. Note: I didn’t stick strictly to the form but did have fun with the pattern.


The streets are empty, the people inside. 
The world is doing a big lockdown. 
Noise is gone. Quiet’s amplified. 
The germs take over and people hide. 

The empty streets do have an upside. 
Creatures enjoy the kid’s playgrounds. 
The wild which the tourists occupied 
Is now alive with animal sounds.


This poem isn’t by Chekov. 
It isn’t even by his wife. 
It’s not a vision from above. 
I wrote it standing by the stove. 

It’s not inspired by lost love 
But makes a point sharp as a knife. 
While reading it you’ll see that you’ve 
Lost twenty seconds of your life.