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element. . . and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

Oh lovely chance, what can I do
To give my gratefulness to you?
You rise between myself and me
With a wise persistency;
I would have broken body and soul,
But by your grace, still I am whole.
Many a thing you did to save me,
Many a holy gift you gave me,
Music and friends and happy love
More than my dearest dreaming of;
And now in this wide twilight hour
With earth and heaven a dark, blue flower,
In a humble mood I bless
You wisdom– your waywardness.
You brought me even here, where I
Live on a hill against the sky
And look on mountains and the sea
And a thin white moon in the pepper tree.
Sara Teasdale, The Collected Poems

This week we bring you poems in response to If You Get Another Chance, the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, December 11, 2019.  This interesting mix of wise, sad, and authentic is the gift of mm brazfield, Anjum Wasim Dar, Denise Fletcher, Alethea Kehas, Sonja Benskin Mesher, Pali Raj, and Clarissa Simmens.

Note: I am putting The Poet by Day on hiatus starting tomorrow for the holy days. I’ll return on January 8, 2010 with the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.

♥ Wishing you much joy in the year end festivities. ♥

♥ Best wishes for the 2020! ♥

element

if the rust stained bones in my frame
where to ever get a chance again
to glide across the universe
look into Pandora’s jet white eyes
and smell the lighted stars
like people sniff the roses
my soul to keep i’d give away
to plug the holes
and pave new ways
for dusk to kiss the lonely hearts
for dawn to inter the bitter crop
from where my old roots are rotted
i’d be a renegade of love again
with bombs of ear drums
i would fight
to give a spot to everyone
in God’s angelic choir
if the sacred morning dew
can forgive me
for not being wide awake
in baptizing my sinful state
in the worldly river of life
reason being i was up all night
marching behind my sisters and brothers
blinded by the poisoned dark
with intent to guide them out
of their imposed upon madness
or if the maidens of the light
would prefer to bring me back
i would want to be
a lightning bolt
looking to correct
the wicked negatives of the cold hard ground
with the positives in the celestial clouds
to quench the crops of kindness
that are drying out
yet in all honesty
i’d be more than content
to come back as a rainbow colored bubble
making some kid laugh

© 2019, mm brazfield

mm’s site is: Words Less Spoken

On a Positive Note

If ever I get the chance
to make a fresh start

I will go all the way to Rabat-
wearing a jambart, will keep
and push a tea -cart, serving all
in the street and ghat

my currency will be Thai Baht
will make many and sell, tarts
in bazars and all marts
will accept the Burmese Kyat

then love to rest under Green heart
and wish for a trip to Kalat
but before I depart I will
listen to Beethoven and Mozart

fill a large apple cart
dress up very very smart
will go slow not dart
outsmart all,this will be

my restart

© 2019, Anjum Wasim Dar

Anjum Ji’s sites are:

“POETRY PEACE and REFORM Go Together -Let Us All Strive for PEACE on EARTH for ALL -Let Us Make a Better World -WRITE To Make PEACE PREVAIL.” Anjum Wasim Dar

I Guess

I guess it’s too late
To live in Nashville
and become a star

I guess it’s too late
To sing on the You
Can Be a Star show
Since it officially
ended in 1989.

I guess it’s too late
for that demo tape
To be found like
Lost treasure and fall
into the right hands

I guess it’s too late
To record another
Gospel tune for
my listening
Audience to hear

But it sure would
have been fun to
Be on that TV show
after my demo tape
Was accepted

I guess it’s too late
To live in Nashville
and become a star

Or is it too late?

© 2019, Denise Fletcher 

A Girl Named Truth

She would have been a wild child
Wind-blown without temperance
She would have held her truth
high like a flag, running
Her feet scraped raw
Her words etched into never-ending
Wonder. She would have gulped life
Ever-thirsty Her heart, the drum of Earth
River-blood in her veins
She would never stop
Until she flew wings
Cutting gravity. Each slice pushing
Her higher. Lungs becoming sky
So vast and blue she would not know
Ending, She would have been
Free

© 2019, Alethea Kehas

..lindisfarne..

it was you that made me do it

think back

and wonder if it could have

been different.

it could have

been better.

except it is what it is,

and was just what it was.

i do not expect to time travel

i do not expect a change in history

any time

soon.

she said that we were young then.

i do not remember that i think

i always felt older

i did not ever feel that young thing

except that day with you at sea

when after

they all shouted at me.

come away with me to lindisfarne

© 2019, Sonja Benskin Mesher

ah john

you ask what would i do different

if i could change the past

i cannot change it yet look to the future

to have more care and education for all

folk to understand have empathy

be kind

& let us keep it simple

maybe the creatures have good ideas

& go to bed when dark ; don’t destroy

the earth

the air smells good in the new book shop

© 2019, Sonja Benskin Mesher

Sonja’s sites are:

Tantrums, and cries
Capture hearts
So let it be
A bolt from blue
Say “Hi”
Well, you have got “Nothing” to say ….yeah
Then you tell me that
You don’t tell us “Sorry”
Join in our circle of friends
Let’s talk ….yeah
Let sags of your face rise and fall
More and more
Say “Hi”
Well, brace yourself to love
And make it a plan but little sense ….yeah
Smile
More and more
If you get another chance
Tantrums, and cries
Capture hearts
So let it be
A bolt from blue
Say “Hi”

© 2019, Pali Raj

Moment of Immanent Action

O, that moment of imminent action
When a confluence of worlds intersect
All is possible
Like The Death of Socrates
As he reaches for his hemlock
Iconic cup of forced suicide
What will he do? Recant?
It would change history
But the speechifying continues
Outcome clear
“Don’t!” I shout to the painting
As if there is no known conclusion
Might as well scream at the hero of a horror flick
“Don’t go down the cellar/up the attic/outside to the shed”
And now, in modern times
I find myself screaming at the dumb teenager:
“Charge your phone!”

O that special moment
Time etched on canvas in paint
And the Universe holds its breath
As I hesitate
And then say, “Sure, we might as well get married”
Maybe not as important as Hector
About to be murdered by Achilles
Can he surrender and live to fight
Another day?
And why do I
Focus on marriage?
Surely I regret giving up
Guitar, writing, tarot
Perhaps it’s just feeling Blue
During this Red, Green and Gold holiday
But junctures appear, innocently beckoning
And I so wish there had been
A painting depicting that imminent action
Something I could have studied and thought about
Before opening my mouth
And just maybe
Unlike Socrates and Hector
That moment could have been deflected
A lone laser point harmlessly careening
Into endless space…

© 2018, Clarissa Simmens 

Find Clarissa on her Amazon’s Author Page, on her blog, and on Facebook HERE; Clarissa’s books include: Chording the Cards & Other Poems, Plastic Lawn Flamingos & Other Poems, and Blogetressa, Shambolic Poetry.

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