For a Little Black Dress

For today’s prompt, write a dedication poem. This is a poem dedicated to a person, an animal, or an organization. Or hey, objects work too–like a poem to a rock or paper bag. Put the dedication in the title or in a line under the title (“for Mother” or “to the heart-shaped rock between the creek and the tulips”). I dedicate today’s prompt to all of you!

portrait-735759_640.jpg
For a Little Black Dress

The way you drape
yourself over her form
at the fancy dinner party
my hands envy your job
clinging to her skin
squeezing all the soft places

Flowing like dark wine from her hair
your folds and creases accentuate
all her natural arcs and ellipses

I’ll find any excuse
to leave early – skip dessert
slide my fingers under your fabric
on the dangerous drive home
until I usurp your position
and cover her body with mine

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 5 Comments

Self Portrait

For today’s prompt, write a lone poem. Perhaps the poem is about a solitary wanderer or person who just prefers to go it alone. Or a lone winner, lone wolf, or some other solo individual. Or alternatively, I’ll accept poems that are about loans or that are about being alone.

desk-2626344_640.jpg
Self Portrait

Just one light in the midnight
shining on a cluttered desk
some music — a cello
or piano barely audible
above the rain falling

No frantic television
no random children
no nagging wife
not even a bored dog
to disturb the work

He drinks alone
a silent prayer
to his distant muse
for inspiration
before the dawn

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Grocery Shopping

Time for our second Two for Tuesday of the month! Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!

  • Write a love poem. All you need is love.
  • Write an anti-love poem. Or not.

Remember: There are many forms of love: romantic love, friend and family love, love of being alive, etc.

 

20160711_132304

Grocery Shopping

I love grocery shopping
in a strange land
and not buying a thing.

I’ve been inoculated
to the whorish marketing
I see around town

but drop me in a foreign
city and I’m a sugar-buzzed
boy in the cereal aisle.

New! really means new
and I allow the bright colors
to attract my wandering eye.

If I can’t read like the locals
it’s even more exciting.
Show me baby riding a bear

over a word I can’t pronounce
or symbols I can’t fathom
and I’m in a surreal heaven.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 4 Comments

Lucky Guy

For today’s prompt, write a lucky number poem. Some people have lucky numbers, some don’t. Wherever you fall on the lucky number spectrum, you can still write a poem about the phenomenon of lucky numbers and/or luck in general.

people-2557408_640.jpg
Lucky Guy

I’m lucky you wore that dress
and every other guy in the restaurant
watched you glide to my table.

I’m lucky you were only half an hour late,
your babysitter didn’t bail
and your boss was distracted.

I’m lucky you actually showed
on this our third try
for a first date.

I’m lucky you mentioned chemtrails
and Jesus before ordering dessert
then joked about global warming and ice cream.

I’m lucky it only took one dinner
to discover what I wasn’t missing.

 

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Jealousy

For today’s prompt, write a jealous poem. Maybe you’re jealous. Or maybe someone else is jealous of you–or someone else. Whether envious of another or suspicious of a partner, dive deep into this emotion today.

othello-2828847_640.jpg
Jealousy

Is the Sun jealous of the Moon
when she takes the Sky?

Are the Orchids jealous of the Roses
when the Bees are in flight?

Was the Sea of Galilee jealous
of the River Jordan?

Then why am I afraid
of losing you?

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 7 Comments

Afterglow

I hosted a Germination Workshop this afternoon. We wrote to seven prompts for a little more than two hours. The first was to today’s poem-a-day prompt. Since we only had about ten minutes for each prompt and I couldn’t think of anything more interesting, I stuck with my default setting and wrote a sex poem. Feel free to complain in the comments below.

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “After (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “After Dinner,” “After You,” “After Hours,” and/or “After I Finish Writing This Poem.”

pair-3393904_640Afterglow

In the sweaty heavy breathing
our bodies sink into the mattress,
too hot then too cold,
except for where our skins touch.

Mind wiped, all my thoughts
spewed out, so I’m just here,
just now, no plans, no regrets,
just holding another body,

feeling like my fathers fathers
have for untold millennia
and will for at least a few years more.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Stolen

For today’s prompt, write a stolen poem. And no, don’t steal anyone’s poem! But you can write about doing such a thing. Or stealing hearts, stealing time, stealing minds. Or steeling your mind (remember: I don’t care if you play on my original prompt). Steal away into a comfortable place to write and break some lines today.

gold-ring-1-1424764-639x452

Stolen

I saw my hand try to snatch that precious
gold from his, like I was watching someone
else but it was mine.

grasping
grabbing
clawing
punching
strangling

I don’t know why it wasn’t me
but it was my birthday.
He owed me another present.
That ring found in the riverbed
was rightfully mine.

Can you steal
from the dead?

I’ve been wondering
since they cast me out
Ingrates!
alone and silent
except for the gurgling
in my throat.

As I climb under
this mountain,
I’ll admit I’m a thief
but I’ve come to see
that it’s the ring
that stole my life
from me.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Shearstone

For today’s prompt, pick a painter, make him or her the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible painters include Salvador Dali, Frida Kahlo, or Pablo Picasso. Of course, you don’t have to go with the big names. You can use more obscure painters or more contemporary ones. For instance, I love the work of Judith Peck and Aaron Bir.

waterfall

Waterfall by Angi Shearstone

Shearstone

I love artsy girls.
Most of the paintings
hanging on my walls
were done by women
who have seen me naked.

I’m not attracted
to the feathers
they’d wear in their hair.
It’s not the skewed
sense of fashion,
not the piercings
nor strange tattoos.

It’s because sometimes
I want to be the muse.

 

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 6 Comments

Innocence Song

I made my regular visit to Charles House this afternoon and read a bunch of Spring poems with the folks there. We enjoyed E. E. Cummings’ Chansons Innocentes: I very much and wrote this poem together while still under its influence. I tidied it up a bit before posting.

For today’s prompt, write an animal poem. The poem could be about an animal. Or it could just mention an animal in passing. Or include an animal in your title and fail to mention the animal once in your poem. Your poem, your rules.

tadpole-2119594_640.jpg

Innocence Song

when the world
is puddle-luscious
born-again tadpoles
with just sprouted
pale legs from chubby
winter bulbous
wake up wake up

it’s time to clean house
shake off the drowsy
open eyes and windows
let in robins red
to build nests
with the sheddings
of our heavy coats

wake up wake up
pipe the hairy legged
horned sons of Spring

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

My Boyhood Paper Route

Heading out to my first open mic of the month but I got today’s poem done just in time. If you’re in Carrboro come out to Oasis at 7pm tonight and you just might hear me read it.

And today is actually a special day: Two for Tuesday! Pick one prompt or use both, your choice!

  • Write a worst case poem. What’s the worst that could happen?
  • Write a best case poem. Take the worst and reverse it!

daily-paper-464015_640.jpg

My Boyhood Paper Route

Best case scenario:
the big black dog will bark
at me from behind their front door.

But it was the worst case
that wound up my mind
as I pedaled my route
stomach quivering
as the bag lightened
with each delivery.

What if he’s loose?

What if he’s angry?

What if his bark
isn’t worse
than his bite?

Will I struggle
home bloodied
or be found dead
on their porch
paper in hand
already red?

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | 9 Comments