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    • I’ve long believed that the more I write, the easier it is to write. Turns out the converse is also true. The less I write, the harder it is to get words on paper.

  1. Hi Linda, I haven’t forgotten and I am keeping my word to you. First impressions of what is unfolding before our eyes can often be deceiving, so do not be dismayed. Seek God in your prayers and I am pretty sure that God has something He wants you to see or learn in store for you. I think that often we don’t appreciate how much God cares for us and His ways of showing us this can often be personal, so be watching. I was watching a small flock of pigeons yesterday all feeding on a piece of bread on a sidewalk and I was mindful that God was aware of this flock. And then God reminded me that as Jesus said, we are worth much more in the eyes of God than some of his creations like sparrows or pigeons. He knows the number of hairs on our heads, when we rise and when we lay down. God cares so much more for us than we can imagine. Take heart Linda. Blessings!

    • Thank you. I confess I don’t remember what you promised, but I do appreciate your prayers and encouragement. I know Good has a plan and he is faithful. Even this poem he used to encourage one of my fellow writers who was feeling discouraged too.

  2. My favorite place is right at home as well.

    ——————————-
    Here is the final stanza of Unknown Sin using “mist” and “midnight”.

    Through moral mist we’ve claimed our pleasure’s good.
    On Halloween the candy was a treat.
    The apple from the midnight witch was sweet.
    We counted every coin. Our fevers could
    continue pleasure, rightly ours. Or, should
    we punish doing tricks out in the street,
    manipulating weaker ones we meet?
    Our unknown sin was doing what we would.

  3. Thank you so much for the weekly prompts. They were responsible for getting me out of my “writing burn out” and back into the writing game again. I believe I participated in each and every one of the prompts the first time through the deck, although I could be wrong. I also believe I have a few bonus points, with which those and $3.50 might get me a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

  4. I did not give up the ship. I am writing and went in a different direction. Next week I will post. I hope the paint chips cooperate. This has truly been a crazy time in my life!

  5. Tolkien made those rolling hills of Middle Earth attractive.

    ——————–
    This is a continuation of “Unknown Sins”.

    My memory is like gray rolling hills
    where smoke and ash and haunting dragons hide
    the sins I have forgotten through my pride
    and could repeat should pleasure offer thrills.
    The consequences though would give me chills
    were I aware. Main paths are much too wide.
    The narrow one’s too slippery? May I slide
    into the hands of God whose Spirit fills.

  6. I like the boasting in Jesus at the end.

    ——————
    This is a continuation of “Unknown Sin” from last week using spirit rock, ghost, grizzly and olive branch.

    The afterglow is pleasant, but the night
    that follows buries me with guilty stress.
    A spirit rock lacks any means to bless.
    It offers stuff a ghost might hint brings light.
    I want what’s moral, truly moral, right.
    No grizzly olive branch can clean this mess.
    It’s dark. I’ve lost my way so I confess,
    again, and may this time my way stay bright.

  7. I don’t know what it is about these octaves, but they’re hard! I wrote one for the first week but won’t be sharing because it’s too dark. Working on this set of paint chips today. ๐Ÿ™‚

    • It’s up to you whether you share your first octave, but I don’t think being “too dark” is a reason not to share. It may be just the thing someone struggling needs to read because they think they are alone in that darkness.

      I look forward to what you come up with for this week.

  8. I like your continuation from last week. There won’t be sharks in the resort pool.

    ————————–
    Unknown Sin

    Ir’s bittersweet recalling unknown sin
    provided there’s repentance at the end
    that offers peace that a clean heart can tend
    to find the righteous path and try again.
    Without that bramble our new hearts may win
    to change direction, toss our current trend,
    and find the narrow way around the bend
    that lets at last the Holy Spirit in.

    • ๐Ÿ˜Š I suspect Calvin just hangs out in a lounge chair.
      I love your poem. It fits perfectly with what my Bible study class is learning in our study of Matthew.

  9. Just realized that I haven’t even started this prompt yet. *awkward laugh* I’ve already posted three times today but will see if I can write something good for this. If so, I’ll share. ๐Ÿ™‚

    • Thanks. Only the bigger bear is mine. Ranger Bear belongs to a writer friends of mine who writes historical mystery/romance novels set in national parks. ๐Ÿ˜Š

  10. I may have to sit a few out. My brain is tired and calling for rest. Hopefully I will have something toward the end of the month, seeing this is a continuing thread. Lots going on here. I will still read others.

      • I have seen too many miracles lately. Why do I think God is out of them? Here is my first one. I know where I am headed, just not sure how I will end up there. Used just one word, which may be my theme word throughout. The title will come at the end. It always does.

        She stands, a red carpet at her feet
        Arrayed in white, all eyes turn to behold
        This blushing bride. Stories begin yet endings unfold
        A silent pause broken by a love song sweet

        Fountains of champagne promise no deplete
        Laughter and tears numb burns and softens cold
        Mellow mixture poured into an antique crystal mold
        Old and new line a petal-strewn street

  11. I like the last line in your poem about finding the ring set.

    We have been ill recently and because of that I missed last week’s prompt. I may have to miss this one as well. Thank you for offering them! Best wishes!

  12. This took all day and I think it needs a lot of polish! Don’t understand the envoi part. 38 lines. Well, I tried.

    The Making of a Dream

    Dreams fly as sawdust on sandpaper
    Drifting lazily down atop a field of poppies
    Couched in the warm blues of unsung melodies
    Muffled by the clamor and cacophony
    A safety orange sun set in lavender
    Disturb not and none will notice

    Homogenized flavors none notice
    Sleep’s rust chafes like sandpaper
    Restless dreams seek peace in lavender
    A toxic trance from this field of poppies
    Deepen the wounds of clamor and cacophony
    Chords changing tempo in soothing melodies

    Harmonious no more are melodies
    A tournament now a few notice
    Violent wrest and arrest in Cacophony
    To fight or desist each a grade of sandpaper
    The lure and sweet fragrance of poppies
    Soak in the prism of lavender

    Soon shades emerge from lavender
    Hot and cool split from the melodies
    Dreams once diluted in a field of poppies
    Quietly awaken some take notice
    Smooth softened edges from sandpaper
    Strangely still in the wake of cacophony

    Angels gather around the cacophony
    Dipping their wings in shades of lavender
    Marbled swirls polish as sandpaper
    No longer grates but extract sweet melodies
    It no longer matters who will notice
    Let all fall asleep in the field of poppies

    Snow out of season in a field of poppies
    Everyone wakes in amazed cacophony
    Dreams know only one matters to notice
    The maker of both music and lavender
    And dreams survive in heaven’s melodies
    But need waking up to the scratch of sandpaper

    Donโ€™t let your dreams slumber in fields of poppies
    Awake with the day and donโ€™t settle for lavender

  13. For years my profile name oh social media is tqhousecat. I never revealed what tq means. This week I painted one and thought it time to tell. I even posted a picture and wrote a poem on dverse but still did not say much. This prompt is perfect and I guess it is time.
    A little sad, but I will get over it.
    Turquoise, my birthstone. December.

    The Revealing
    This vintage turquoise housecat like ultraviolet rays
    Incite my palate sweet โ€˜n’ sour like sparkle in the sun
    Such a rare shielded species
    A precious gem dearly cherished
    Now displayed gingerly
    Securely guarded
    Do not blemish

    https://photos.app.goo.gl/jX2zemn5qRU3TKLS7

  14. For years my profile name oh social media is tqhousecat. I never revealed what tq means. This week I painted one and thought it time to tell. I even posted a picture and wrote a poem on dverse but still did not say much. This prompt is perfect and I guess it is time.
    A little sad, but I will get over it.
    Turquoise, my birthstone. December.

    I hope these are similes.

    The Revealing
    This vintage turquoise housecat like ultraviolet rays
    Incite my palate sweet โ€˜n’ sour like sparkle in the sun
    Such a rare shielded species
    A precious gem dearly cherished
    Now displayed gingerly
    Securely guarded
    Please do not blemish

    https://photos.app.goo.gl/jX2zemn5qRU3TKLS7

  15. Deep dark wood is soothing as you mentioned in your poem.

    ——————–
    Sparkle Like Sunshine

    A bouquet’s like a bluebird who
    without a sound knows what to do
    and vintage turquoise like the sky.
    The evening comes so let us try
    to understand like deep dark wood
    and do in darkness what is good
    when daylight trusts us on our own.
    Let’s sparkle as deep truth we’ve known.

    • Looking forward to reading it. For once, I actually finished tomorrow’s prompt before you commented. It’s usually your comment that reminds me I haven’t done it yet. ๐Ÿ™‚

  16. Late, sorry. I managed to get 5. That wasn’t super easy.

    Never again but instead

    Cotton candy.
    Spun sugar tainted red
    Like spun truth from lies
    Leaves you with a sticky face
    Hard to erase.
    Clown nose.
    Mask of distraction.
    Painted smile.

    Give me fresh-squeezed sun
    Through cloudy skies
    While I run through verdant fields
    That lead to endless dunes
    Ending at the sparkling sea
    Reflecting off the silver moon
    Ah, cream-of-the-crop!

    • You’re not late at all. Prompts are open indefinitely. ๐Ÿ˜Š

      I love this poem. Nice use of fragments. Although my favorite line isn’t a fragment. “Give me fresh-squeezed sun through cloudy skies” is brilliant.

  17. I like your description of him as being tall with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon.

    ———————-

    End and Beginning

    Cotton candy sunny side up.
    Be the cream of the crop.
    Sustain your faith. Persevere.
    The end is near when evil stops.

  18. I tried. Happy anniversary!!

    A perfect Union

    A bride’s dress of white could be a brown- paper package
    Buried inside may be layers of luggage

    A perfect partner is a gem of moonstone
    Who will stay close beside you and wonโ€™t let you roam

    Seeds sown in September reap winter’s wheat fields
    A perfect season for weddings and a lifetime well sealed

  19. Congratulations on your 35th anniversary!

    Slant rhyme is hard as you note in your poem. I especially liked the “fierce/verse” pair.

    I didn’t know Rhymezone offered slant rhymes, but I’m glad it does. I used it to come up with some of the near rhymes below.

    ——————–

    A Scarecrow’s Gratitude

    Those ravens are black
    and that fact is exact,
    but a moonstone’s no moon
    though there’s room to presume
    that these wheat fields have wheat
    and a scarecrow’s a beast.

    Thus he cheerfully thinks
    as the day flips to night
    giving all gracious thanks
    while the sun leaves the sky.

    • Thank you. Sometimes it’s hard to believe it has been 35 years. I’m ready for another 35.
      You picked the rhyme pair that was the holdover from the poem about my sister. It may show up in another poem again someday, though it didn’t belong in her poem.
      I love your poem. You have a few internal rhymes in addition to the line-end rhymes. Very nice. It seems this scarecrow does have a brain and a heart of gratitude.

  20. Three poems, no titles

    January I sunk into the black hole
    Dug with last year’s chisel
    A summer sparkle now traces the edge
    Showing me all is not lost
    True light always finds a way

    A child, I grew among the trees
    Even tasted acorns on paths beneath my feet
    Giant oaks from bitter seeds
    Houses filled with possibilities
    There is hope in every bitter thing

    A string of pearls real or faux
    Look the same, hard to tell
    It takes a jeweler with a well-trained eye
    What about you and I
    It takes an all-seeing eye

  21. I especially liked the last two lines of your poem. May God transform all of our grit.

    —————–

    I much prefer a purple moon,
    a wonder I can see,
    than any black hole scientists
    might think that there might be,
    but that’s just me, admittedly,
    preferring what I see.

  22. Didn’t take the first time..
    A fun prompt after a grueling week. A poem for each word, untitled.
    Hurricane winds expected Sunday in my area. Another ocean trip quelled! Oh well, land-locked!
    Please pray for minimal to no damage.

    Chanterelle and I never kissed
    Morels and portabellas leave sweet whispers on my lips
    Apricot hues and visions of the sea
    Grow in the wood tempting me
    But I’ve been warned

    Humidity is a heavy blanket
    Bleached clouds block the sun
    From inside I think
    A breath of fresh air!
    But still life in the trees
    Say otherwise
    Exhale
    An accepted sigh

    Am I brass or bronze
    Am I hard or strong
    Each an alloy
    I too an alloy
    Nature and Spirit
    Oh to be an ally
    And not just cohabit
    That’s braun

    • The first comment came through, but I’m glad you added your prayer request in this one. I will pray for safety and protection. I’ve never been in a hurricane and I don’t think I would want to.

  23. Oh this was fun after a not-so-fun week! One poem for each. All untitled.

    Chanterelle and I never kissed
    Morels and portabellas leave sweet whispers on my lips
    Apricot hues and visions of the sea
    Grow in the wood tempting me
    But I’ve been warned

    Humidity is a heavy blanket
    Bleached clouds block the sun
    From inside I think
    A breath of fresh air!
    But still life in the trees
    Say otherwise
    Exhale
    An accepted sigh

    Am I brass or bronze
    Am I hard or strong
    Each an alloy
    I too an alloy
    Nature and Spirit
    Oh to be an ally
    And not just cohabit
    That’s braun

    • Your channel l chanterelle poem made me chuckle so I’m not deducting bonus points after all. ๐Ÿ˜

      Your third poem is my favorite. Oh to be an ally indeed.

  24. Chanterelle
    Chanterelle growing at my feet
    They are but mushrooms, wild and elite
    You cannot find them in the street
    This short poem would be incomplete
    Without mentioning theyโ€™re good to eat

    (I have too many bonus points, so deduct away)

  25. It can get too hot in summer. It often gets too cold in winter. I didn’t know what a chanterelle was, but those negative bonus points made me look it up.

    ————–
    Midnight

    At midnight taking a breath of fresh air
    without the moon nor others on the street
    I pray that my imaginations there
    all come from God who makes the breathing sweet.

  26. Down with the stomach bug. Not fun, but it is useful to the prompt. Hyphenated words I counted as 1. Is that correct?

    A contest Never Fought

    I read matcha is quite the tea
    promising instant energy
    Non-GMO, gluten-free
    Before my gut billowed like the sea
    I could have faced them valiantly
    And watched who met whose match

  27. Trying not to focus
    on the fact I donโ€™t like
    the taste
    and stay aware of all
    itโ€™s benefits
    I stare into my cup
    of matcha green tea –
    help me Jesus.

  28. Obsidian is a beautiful stone when polished as you mention in your poem.

    I remember once around Mexico City’s tourist sites seeing carvings made out of it perhaps to some of the Aztec gods. I lost the souvenir I purchased long ago.

    —————–
    Obsidian

    I tossed that shiny god of glassy black
    obsidian I bought one careless day,
    or lost it somewhere. I don’t know.
    Thank God, it’s gone. I now can try to pray.

  29. Nice obsidian poem. I remember the matcha prompt, and nearly everyone had to look it up.

    Your prompt word of “corn maze” and a baseball game I watched last night inspired to me write a poem about the Field of Dreams. I came no where close to containing it to 31 words, but I figured I would share it here for a few “invaluable” bonus points.

    https://ronrowland.com/is-this-heaven-no-its-iowa/

  30. I too, babbling brook

    Faithful Waters

    Sitting aside the babbling brook
    It whispers all its secrets
    It laughs right by the forest knoll
    I promise not to tell a soul
    Sharing mine
    One moment free and whole

  31. Lizard

    No lazy lizard on a whitewashed wall
    am I who has to make a choice today.
    Obey or slide and tumble to a fall
    or overcome the evil in some way.

  32. I very much appreciated your heartfelt memorial poem to your dear sister. How wonderful that you have the beautiful restored table, โ€œIt Is Well With My Soulโ€ to remember her by.
    Sincerely,
    Barbie

  33. I tried. The first line the monostitch and the 2 following a couplet?

    Dust devils gather as soon as we turn our heads

    We give no mind to the inchworm because we walk in strides
    Moths fly toward light while we are blinded by our pride

  34. I liked the thought of seeing the “devil” and the “lily” from the school bus in your monostich. I can also imagine someone seeing that on the way to school.

    —————————–

    I’m not sure if this qualifies as a monostich. It sounds like it could be two lines due to the rhyme and meter, but it is short enough to be written as one.

    Dream

    Inchworm fossil, green flash bright, school bus quiet for the night.

  35. What a beautiful poem. โค๏ธ It’s so sad that you didn’t get a chance to visit her, though. The good thing is, as you imply in your poem and as Saint Paul says, “we do not mourn as those who have no hope.”

  36. I’m currently writing my villanelle, Linda. It’s kind of slow going. Not sure why I always wait until Thursday to write for your paint-chip challenges! ๐Ÿ˜…

  37. I like how the three marigold faithfully unfold displaying God’s beauty in Creation.

    I have read bits and pieces of Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress recently especially the ending.
    —————
    The Pilgrims Reach the River

    From deep-sea vent to ice cap peak
    we followed where the trail led.
    The breath of God would to us speak.

    We let hope shine upon each cheek.
    We faithfully faced doubt and dread
    from deep-sea vent to ice cap peak.

    At places where the way was bleak
    we listened as the words were read.
    The breath of God would to us speak.

    This pilgrimage is for the meek,
    for those believing what was said
    from deep-sea vent to ice cap peak.

    This is a river, not some creek.
    To those who fear we’d seem as dead.
    The breath of God would to us speak.

    Euphoria is what we seek
    where there is more than mortal bread.
    From deep-sea vent to ice cap peak
    the breath of God would to us speak.

  38. Nly done this once before a few years ago. This took a long time for the form to behave. I hope it is right.

    Free

    I sip my earl grey tea and sigh
    My porcelain cup filled to the brim
    Dull elephants do catch my eye.

    My marigolds I do espy
    Look lovely from my windowโ€™s rim
    I sip my earl grey tea and sigh

    A deep-sea vent dissuades a cry
    Instead a smile not just a grin
    These elephants can walk on by

    Ice caps now threaten as they try
    I let things pass as if a whim
    I sip my earl grey tea and sigh

    Edenโ€™s fragrant and sterile skies
    Long since is closed by Cherubim
    This elephant dull as a fly

    Euphoria now drawing nigh
    The curse of Satan did not win
    I sip my earl grey tea and sigh

  39. It is a blessing to have known a friend who patiently listens while supporting each other in “hope and peace and love”. Your poem reminds me that I should listen better to those around me.

    ——–

    Short Letter to a Self-Centered Dream That Wasted Much Time

    Looking back I tried to do
    the black cat things you teased me to.
    Convinced that what you spoke was true
    with night owl eyes I followed you.

    You’re tongue-tied. Good, but I still thirst
    and relish for a fresh sunburst.

  40. “Cleansing Love”

    A love that never spoils or fades โ€“
    Patient, yes; some might call it slow โ€“
    Giving time to pull back the veil,
    To expose ourselves and come close โ€“
    The scarlett letter washed away.

  41. Took a little time.

    To the entitled I leave this untitled

    I get tongue-tied when I speak
    Your syllables like vines choke me
    And you say poetry has to rhyme
    So you can’t relish every line
    I see the monkโ€™s robe that you wear
    But underneath I donโ€™t know who’s there
    A vow of silence and plea for trust
    Like red clay I taste its rust
    I love the sound of a night owl
    Sunbursts lull them to sleep

  42. Linda, I totally missed this week’s prompt. One death, (a client), one funeral, one memorial service, one last goodbye to friends moving far away. I just read the prompt and I guess I felt the stress of each and so many unanswerable questions. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to engage. Will continue with the next, Lord willing.
    I love your poem.

    • Mary, I am so sorry for your loss. Perhaps you can return to the ubi sunt prompt when you’ve gained a little distance from your initial sorrow and write a private poem to honor client and friends. And may God bring you comfort and peace in full measure.

  43. Linda, I just read your two poems. Both, so powerful. Every line. “Don’t ever call me brave.” Yes! No matter what the shame, in Christ we are unashamed.
    “What are these weeds, we planted seeds” (going from memory, may not be exact wording. Thank you. May God use His words through you to bring healing to many.

  44. I’m excited to try this! In my French literature class, we read a few poems by Franรงois Villon and did an analysis on “Oรน sont les neiges d’antan?” โค๏ธ

  45. I wanted to share with you my terza rima, Linda, even if I don’t end up writing a post on my blog for it:

    A little life, from seed to seedling
    Grows, standing in whirlpools of wind,
    Which blow strongly, without succeeding

    In toppling the tree. Life is not binned,
    Even if happily ever after
    Is not found, nor exact purpose pinned.

    Relax, like with a tea of lavender.
    Golden is the dusk, when sun is setting.
    Slowly the sapling’s growing taller.

  46. Sorry! I wrote a rondelet but forgot to look at the rest of the challenge, so here’s the proper one:
    Cabin in the Woods
    One crazy night,
    In the rainstorm everything changed,
    One crazy night.
    We snuggled down by the fireside;
    Finally battled through the pain,
    Savouring each other again,
    One crazy night.

  47. Wonderful God โ€“
    Voice lifted in jubilant song โ€“
    Wonderful God!
    Giving Your life, shedding Your blood;
    That we might live free from our wrong,
    Always praising You all day long โ€“
    Wonderful God.

  48. I like how you reminded us that God has set the seasons and we remain faithful.

    ——————

    I used “spring”, “pizzazz” and “peachy” in this poem.

    Ubi Sunt

    Long ago we studied here when it was still a place.
    Your name I have forgotten, but I still can see your face.
    And others, too, their words we heard. I hear them still today
    with spring pizzazz and peachy smiles before we went away.

  49. I love your opening line “In the depths of winter darkness gray as graphite”
    I am also intrigued by this form, and I already have a few ideas rattling around in my brain (waiting for one to gel). I immediately thought of the song: Where Have All the Flowers Gone?

  50. God doesnโ€™t want us to be afraid. Thatโ€™s an empowering belief to have

  51. I like how you expressed in your poem the painter’s secret love shown only in his paintings and ending with him doubting his dreams of her love.

    ———-

    Blank Canvas

    The seedling blooms like lavender.
    The golden sunlight shines and we
    remember all, the way things were.

    Forgive, we do, each enemy.
    No secret shadows stand today.
    Forgive us, too, both you and me.

    Now every tear that turned life gray,
    that smeared our pasts into a blur,
    He’s wiped away, He’s wiped away.

      • I’ve always really enjoyed it though it’s so hard to follow. I use cheat sheets ..all kinds of commentaries..to understand the symbolism. Being Catholic I sort of get certain things. Besides that there are all sorts of references to his then current events, and historical and literary references I’ve always been so exceptionally smitten with~

    • I don’t think I’ve ever made dumplings, but this might inspire me to give it a try. But I’ll have to wait for cooler weather. We’re expecting a high of 113 this Sunday so I won’t be cooking much hot food.

  52. Oh gosh, Linda! This one spoke to me and I had to try! Haha!

    ivory gargoyle
    nicknamed “dumpling” by his peers
    in dappled sunlight
    ponders retort stuck right there
    on the tip of his stone tongue.

  53. If this doesn’t make anyone smile, it is only five lines long.
    —————–
    Grumpy Gargoyle Grumbling in the Shade

    Ivory gargoyle groans,
    โ€œMe, why me? I’ve got to know!โ€
    None dare answer why.
    โ€œDappled sunlight, new leaf tones,โ€
    grumpy gargoyle grumbles so.

  54. Not sure it will make anyone laugh, but I did use four paint chips.

    Blurry-eyed

    Opportunity
    A new leaf is a page turned
    In dappled sunlight
    It may look like choice ivory
    Or just a bunch of spinach

  55. Just the way it came out…All 7

    Recognizing A True Halo

    She wore Vermillion lipstick and jeans of faded denim
    Polished stone glittered in the sun like a jewel
    A faint blush spread stirred and sweetened the venom
    Deceit seeks its reflection as it mirrors every fool
    The mystery of the mystical is hidden in the practical
    Oxygen depletion in the Alpine is anti-climactical

  56. It is good to be homesick for heaven.

    —————–

    Celebration

    In faded denim, rosy blush,
    he offers her a polished stone
    from water where the rivers rush.
    She knows that she is not alone.
    In greens and yellow, alpine light,
    Today the festive way is bright.

  57. Hi Linda, don’t take to heart what your friend said, what she means is that SHE doesn’t like hearing about it and that need not affect your witness to others from your heart. The other feedback you received where you received encouragement is the one to focus on and understand that what you do, does encourage others. I don’t think you received that counterbalance encouragement just by chance, I think God was letting you know you are doing what you should be doing. It’s beautiful how God does that at times. You can’t change what you have become, so don’t even entertain it. May God’s grace, peace and blessings be poured upon you and yours.

  58. Cabin in the Woods

    A firefly knows
    He is safe in the darkest night
    A firefly knows
    The light within is why he glows
    Oh will I ever get it right
    Jesus in me is my true light
    A firefly knows

    I’m not sure the title fits the poem, but this is what came out.

  59. I remember seeing fireflies in the evening when I lived in the country. They are beautiful.

    Here’s my poem using “fig leaf”.

    Cabin in the Woods

    In fig leaf clothes
    I pace the cabin’s floor today.
    In fig leaf clothes
    I worry in the woods. Who knows
    the secret that I’ve lost my way?
    But it all shows. I’m on display
    in fig leaf clothes.

  60. Linda, I am so sorry for your loss. You never need apology or explanation for writing or not writing on your blog. I have been on a much needed break from the poem sites. I can’t say how long. A lot going on in my life also. You are always in my back pocket though. You may see me soon.

  61. I’m sorry about your sister. Although I missed the paint chip prompts the last couple of weeks, I was more concerned about you than the prompts. <3

  62. Iโ€™m so sorry for your loss. I havenโ€™t yet lost a sibling, but I imagine it would hit me hard. I pray God will comfort you. Poetry and poetic tributes must help a little, and the thought of heavenly concerts.

  63. Here is my response to the challenge.

    —————-

    In your eyes I saw clear skies
    before the rain that day.
    All left at once out of the blue,
    the sunshine and the sunflower, too,
    the hot sauce, zest for life I knew.
    Our margarita laughing pool
    shut down. You went away.

    • I miss all the people mentioned in my poem, but I hope I am living life to the full
      in spite of their absence. httpss://suestrifles.wordpress.com/2021/06/05/paint-chip-catch-up/

  64. I am sorry to hear about your sister. Such loss does seem like an everlasting total eclipse of the sun, but there are those heavenly concerts and much more. Beautiful poem in memory of her.

  65. I like the reminder in your poem that peace comes swiftly from Jesus.

    ——————–

    A tiny trinket out of jade
    deceptively was smoothly made.
    I bought it. Why? I do not know.
    My dreaming mind got caught, went slow.
    I wonder now how much I paid.

    • Thanks. I’ve been needing peace from Jesus a lot lately. I love you poem. I think I might have purchased that same trinket and don’t remember what I paid. Usually while on vacation. ๐Ÿ™‚

  66. Gaia really wasnโ€™t there
    the way my mother was.
    The full moon of the night or dawn
    were never heartbeats Iโ€™d count on
    the way my motherโ€™s was.

    Happy Mother’s Day!

  67. This is thre third Mother’s Day tidbit I’ve written in a few days. I managed to use all the words. Hope they fit together

    Transcendant

    Second Sunday in May
    No matter what the weather
    Full moon or waning crescent
    Families come together
    No pyramid too high to scale
    No distance can sever
    A heartbeat heard
    Loud enough to blend
    Great plains with the dawn
    A mother’s love learned
    A memory fierce
    Gingko Biloba and hot sauce
    Neither spurns or burns