Earth Day 2022

For today’s prompt (the final Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month), write a love and/or anti-love poem.

Earth Day 2022
for Wynn Bruce

You sacrificed yourself
for us— for all of us
outside the Supreme Court

While we drove our hybrids
wrote letters to the editor
signed online petitions

You became a metaphor
for the planet
you set yourself on fire

You burned and you died
hoping to prevent that fate
from befalling us

I love your courage
I hate that you had to do it
and I fear it will not matter

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At the Beach

Today’s poem came from my monthly visit to Charles House. We read a bunch of dog poems from various poets of varying degrees of fame. The canine in the poem we wrote together was inspired by a companion of one of the participants. I absolutely love that he was named after Mr. Smee from Peter Pan.

I might have to change Bobo’s name…

not Smee but a kindred spirit

At the Beach

Smee wags up to everyone
he licks their faces
and smiles a tonguey grin
covered in wet sand
this first hot day

He drops his beloved
slobber ball at my feet
and with pincered fingers
I chuck it in the ocean

Where fearless he swims
into the waves searching
for his floating treasure

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I also confess

For today’s prompt, write a superhero or supervillain poem.

I also confess

I’ve been using my poetry group
to subtly alter the literary flow
of our culture by indoctrinating
my fellow poets through workshops

Two years ago I launched the pandemic
to broaden my influence and force
everyone to become introverts
because I was tired of open mics

Remember this is just poetic fancy
until the Purple-Shirts kick in your door
demanding a Shakespearean sonnet
or some obeisance to Bukowksi

Hero or villain— Madman or visionary
it all depends upon who wins in the end

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I confess

For today’s prompt, write a conspiracy poem.

I confess

I’m the anonymous Q dropping
whatever crap will get 4chan hard
and laughing as the gullible
savor every poorly worded crumb

It’s easy once you learn the trick
“disinformation is necessary”
every wrong prediction becomes intentional
part of the trusted plan

I was also a member of the Illuminati
but got excommunicated— not killed
they just set me up with a boring job
a blog and a lifetime supply of irrelevance

Quote me and I’ll deny it
This is just poetic license

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The Bees and the Bushes

For today’s prompt, write an organism poem.

The Bees and the Bushes

This bumble bee couldn’t care less
as I watch him work the blossoms.
I stretch my aging back and notice
there are dozens of bees bumbling.

Over the distant fields I see a flock
of starlings flying like an amoeba
reminding me of the school of fish
I swam near on a tropical snorkel.

We’ve got this all wrong— Individuality.
We’re more like cells in a culture
than islands in an archipelago.
I don’t care about your political beliefs,

your behavior affects the rest of us.
Even poets needs a workshop to thrive.

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No More Silence

For today’s prompt, write a sound poem.

No More Silence

I could blame this modern age
whether it’s a truck blubbering
or an airplane overhead sputtering
or the heat pumps keeping us cool

But even in the furthest wilderness
I couldn’t sleep in total silence
because there’s a tiny tuning fork burrowing
into my ears that can’t be unheard

I could blame rock ‘n’ roll
all those head-banging concerts
fueled by drugs and sex and sound
but only three left my ears ringing

I just wish I had better stories
from a cacophonous youth

Last December, I wrote a Fraiku about my tinnitus. This is just an expansion of that poem.

In other news, while looking for more poetry online, I discovered that The Orkney News publishes poems. I offered them my final poem of last year’s April Poem-A-Day Challenge and they posted it. If you’re new my work or can’t remember last year, check out Farewell to Stromness.

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Blame the Dogs

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food.

For today’s prompt, write a poem using at least three of the following six words. Or go for extra credit and use all six. Here are the six words: Content, Double, Guide, Meet, Pump, Suit.

Blame the Dogs

I walk around in a fat suit
because too many chilidogs
have dared me to see how much content
can be pumped between their buns
double chili — extra cheese
a pickle spear to my heart

I can hear them meeting at night
in my fridge while I’m sitting up
in bed— esophagus on fire
they’re guiding me to that golden
all you can eat buffet in the sky
while the milkshakes egg them on


Shameless self-promotion: check out my chapbook of food poems, Milkshakes & Chilidogs.

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How Full the Air

For today’s prompt (the third Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month), write a what’s there and/or what’s not there poem.

How Full the Air

That sunbeam angled
in through the window,
illuminating joyful molecules
like constellations in my room.

I watched dust motes dance
to the music of the vents,
as mercurial DJ Thermostat
kept changing his mind.

I don’t know how long I stared
but, according to Descartes,
for a time, I wasn’t there.

I breathe easier on cloudy days
because I don’t see
how full the air is.

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We drink

For today’s prompt, write a We Blank poem.

We drink

When we’re not inspired
because the pinot noir
is also blocked

We light a candle
the three of us
for atmosphere

The flame flickers
but doesn’t have a clue
either so we look

From poet to wine
wine to fire
fire back to poet

Some nights the moon
is hidden by clouds

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Far from the Madding Crows

Another combination of two prompts:
For today’s prompt, write a mad poem.
Comic artist Lynda Barry, and asks you to write about dogs you have known, seen, or heard about.

Not Bobo, not Moriarty but illustrative of their relationship.

Far from the Madding Crows

There’s a murder of crows convening
outside my window, debating some fine point
of avian semiotics in raucous squawks.

Moriarty hasn’t blinked since they arrived,
his tail thwapping back and forth anticipating
the juicy dark meat, if only he could get through the glass.

Bobo’s oblivious below. He’s mad about Moriarty
and misinterprets the feline tail so he wags
back as if he were being offered a treat.

I madden them both by spending my days
facing a box that glows when there’s prey
and fun to be had outside

and only I can open the door.

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