softly speaking … and other poems by readers

LAST WEDNESDAY’S WRITING PROMPT: When people can’t speak-up and speak-out, they can give “voice” to their frustrations in odd ways. What kinds of strange rebellions have you observed? Tell us about that experience in poem or prose.

. softly speaking .

no need to talk, there is no one here.

no need to shout, we have no anger.

those were the early days, younger,

filled with grit and useless sentiments.

now we mindfully watch, envy old fabrics,

hear the sounds of another time, know

this is entertainment, a soothing way

to live now.

she said i looked sad,

perhaps i am.

i have a sense of wellbeing.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher


She walked down a solitary path
left behind her mistakes made
like pebbles in sand dissolving

she drove a car into the night
along a desert highway

until all she could see were stars
twinkling jewels of light

she plucked pearls of wisdom
caught upon her hand from the wind

no one would miss her absence
life would resume without stopping
her choices a dissipating mist

this as she stood outside a house
realizing another day beginning

her children broke the silence

© 2017, Renee Espiru

Not good

wi words
she hugs him.
He shrugs her off.

She shows him
a lot of thigh
and her breasts.

“tha boring”
she tells him
strokin’ his leg.

“Got thee ‘ed
in chuffin books
all the bleeding time.”

“‘Ow do I look?”
she says.

He shrugs.

© 2017, Paul Brookes

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT, March 22: What would be your fantasy about the moon? Tells us in poem or prose and share the link to the piece in the comments section below if you are comfortable doing so that we all might read it. This is light one. Enjoy!

Invitation to Daring

Flimsy silver ladder
Dropping across the velvet black
Invitation to daring.
Climb to the silvery sand
Dazzling dunes
Dark gorges.
No moon shines above
The light shines from within.
In that gentle light
Fair beings dwell
Runaways from earth.

© 2017, Sarmishtha Basu (Sharmishtha has sixteen beautiful sites, all illustrated with her charming paintings.  Visit her Gravatar page to link to Sharmishtha’s blogs.)

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT, March 29: How do you generally receive the night? With joy, reluctance or fear? Do you sleep well or not? Tell us in poem or prose.

This is the first time we’re featuring a poem by Colin Blundell so an introduction is in order.  Colin has what is probably the most eclectic blog I’ve encountered over the years. A former teacher, Colin says he escaped the daily humdrum of employment in 1999. I believe he was a teacher and quite a devoted one at that, but self-employment does offer its own special joy.

Colin now facilitates workshops on Neurolinguistic Programing, change management, problem-solving, time management in addition to Stephen Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Successful People. He also gardens, writes, paints, and composes music. He  makes hand-bound books and goes on long solo motorcycle trips. Colin Blundell doesn’t give in to the sound-bite world of the blogospher and entertainment news.  His posts are long, luxurious reads with marvelous detail that betrays an acute mind and sense of irony.

Two haiku…

full moon
through a slatted blind
cuts me into white strips


the moon’s chimneypot
on the back lawn

© 2017, Colin Bludell

Juli is also new here. She’s a U.K. poet, Juli (Juxtaposed, Subject to Change) and she responded to the April 3 post – The Spoon Theory or How To Continue to Be Happily Artful Despite Chronic, Catastrophic and/or Life-threatening Illness – with this treasure of a poem.

Juli says, “We are as cosmic prisms, reflecting, connecting, with infinite vibrations that shake the physical and consume the spiritual. Intense awareness is ours – experience is sharp. We are our teachers and our pupils: scholars of the wisdom well; plunging into Truth and emerging as fountains, sprinkling little drops of consequence and potential.

“Thought, made manifest…


When I wake to the day
And straight away
Feel bereft for the theft
Of my spoons in the night,
I must reset my pace
For the hours I face
And the fact I don’t keep
All my spoons in one place,
Is what lessens my plight
Though the day’s still a fight
And I grieve at the waste
Unless I stop pretending,
Surrender to fate and
Just focus on mending
And wait.

When I wake up renewed,
With all spoons am imbued,
I feel hope that I’ll cope
With the basics, at least –
Unless there’s a treat
Or appointment to keep.
I will try for an even keel
Mostly, unless I feel
Daring – spoons sparing.
And, if I succeed –
Which means no extra need –
I retire to bed with
A positive head.

My spoons are my wealth
For my life is defined
By the soundness of health
In my body and mind.
It is measured and treasured by
One simple goal:
That of having control
Just as much as I’m able,
But, oh! For a ladle
To hold in reserve that
Makes up for how much
I rely on my nerves.

© 2017, Juli

Thanks and kudos to these adventurous souls who participated in Wednesday Writing Prompt challenges. They are not only devoted artists. They’re fine people with good values. I do hope you’ll visit their blogs, explore their work, and get to know them better. The next writing prompt will post tomorrow and responses will be featured here next Tuesday.  

We continue today with the current recommended read: On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder. Left, right or center – American or not – it’s a must read.

LESSON SIX Be wary of paramilitaries.  “When the men with guns who have always claimed to be against the system start wearing uniforms and marching with torches and pictures of a leader, the end is nigh.  When the pro-leader paramilitary and the official police and military intermingle, the end has come.” Prof. Snyder, On Tyranny, Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century

THE WORDPLAY SHOP: books, tools and supplies for poets, writers and readers