Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt

Sammi’s Weekender #285 (thalassic)

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I found thalassic in Robin Devoe’s Dictionary of the Strange, Curious, & Lovely. I wrote an acrostic insult poem with more rare words from the same book. It’s Monday. I started this Saturday morning. I’m tardy.

***

Tin gods abound worldwide. Practiced prevaricators
Hemipygicly half-assed witlessness,
Adonized avatars in their own lost and low minds,
Lardaceous lickpennies of limicolous living with
Acherontic soulless evil demonic spirits, those
Snollygosters comfortable within any snobocracy,
Slubberdegullions of the lowest order or less,
Imbruted by nature without redemption.
Cacodemons with sycophants.

***

Look both ways when searching for right.
Mind the gaps for the tin gods because they disguise well.

Sammi’s Weekender #284 (rule)

Click this graphic for more words from around the world.

 

Love Matters

You suffer loss
Heart breaks,
My love means
Tears of mourning,
Our common sadness rules
Two lives.

Look both ways.
There is a time to cry and a time to laugh, a time to be sad and a time to dance.
Mind the gaps for the lessons of both sorrow and joy.

Sammi’s Weekender #283 (dunk)

Click on the dunk graphic to discover other 78-word writings that include the word dunk.

 

Popularity

Sweatpants and fifteen-dollar
Wally-world slip-ons do the job
when I’m home alone and happy.

A child, I believed them
when they said I’d
run faster and jump higher

In them Keds,
for a tenth of what they pay
for fly higher and faster

Nike Dunks, which tell me
things and give me thoughts
they don’t want to hear or know.

Now you must love me. Ima woke.
I spent a week’s pay for
these kicks. Now kiss them.

I look both ways and wonder, am I the person I think I am?
Or am I a slave to popular marketing?
Mind the gaps before falling into a mentality where popularity trumps all things practical.

Sammi’s Weekender #282 (opposite)

Click on Sammi’s graphic to link up with her page for more 44-word poetry or prose.

Coincidentally, this is the second 44-word poem I have written this week. The other was for the dVerse quadrille challenge. Maybe it’s an omen.

 

Mom & Me

Mother always pointed out my difficult side;
that contrarian in me, not the exact opposite of good,
more like one who disobeyed, who pushed back,
because I saw life through my own eyes.

Today, I both regret and rejoice my
yin and yang personality.

Look at yourself both ways.
You may not be who you think you are.
Mind the gaps while searching for self.

While I enjoy this musical duet, I am struck by the irony.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #280 (amok)

Click this to open Sammi’s page where you’ll find more fun prose and poems run amok.

Small Battles: Big Wars

We
would rather f-bomb
or recite angry litanies
of forbidden witchery
than speak the word: cancer.

It’s when few of one’s
trillions of cells run amok,
it’s a war fought with
knives, rads, and poisons.

Look both ways to see your own beginning and end.
Mind the gaps, fight the battle, die with dignity.

John Updike, best known, perhaps, as a novelist, was a poet. This short poem of his is one of my favorites regarding life and death. He died of lung cancer in 2009.

Sammi’s Weekender #279 (superimpose)

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Contemplative Satisfaction

My memories are superimposed,
each one over the others,
repeating forgotten things
like reflections in a window
to my past.

The sights, sounds, and sensed emotions
I can no longer feel, hopes and desires
of mine in a younger man’s clothes
when I danced and played
not knowing about the treasures
that are my memories today.

Look both ways and overlay the tastes and aromas of each memory.
Mind the gaps of confusion as you look through lost time for meanings as we live into the answers to past questions.

Sammi’s Weekender #276 (bandage)

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Keepin’ Safe

‘hello-‘ello! C’mere, lad.
I hope you’ll be keepin’ well.

It happens every year
after a wee bit, a donnybrook
somewhere near here,
sorry now, so
me shillelagh’s swingin,
callin’ fer bacon.

Not well then are ye?
wackin’ the cod,
wi’ narry a nod, nor a bandage
or pad to be had.

T’ank you for feelin’
brave to go, smart to not.

Look both ways on whisky drinkin’ festival days.
Mind the gaps at the tube and lads at the pub.

The annual Donnybrook Fair near Dublin included fiddlers and dancers, but it was best-known for the frequent eruption of whiskey-fueled fighting – often involving heavy clubs known as shillelaghs. “Bacon” is Irish slang for police and “cod’ for fool.

Sammi’s Weekender #275 (avian)

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Got My Six

His name was Jay.
We called him Jay Bird
due to his avian-like
looks and behavior.
Callsigns were
seldom complimentary,
like Maverick or Viper.
Jay Bird was my friend.

Look both ways in life but memories are treasures of the mind.
And mind the ever-present gaps as you connect the dots and wonder why.

Sammi’s Weekender #274 (opera)

Click this opera thingy to find links to more operatic writings

For Opera’s Sake

Poets find inspiration in
music
I do,
not opera
or classical,
Whitman did.
Likewise Nazim Hikmet,
Dickenson, Bishop, Doty,
and the barstool bard,
Charles Bukowski
who wrote,
“To The Whore Who
Took My Poems,” and
said, “opera sickened me.”

A romantic, Hank was,
by some accounting,
a perv, drunk, dreamer,
a dirty old man
and misogynist
(he claimed not)—a lover
of women and classical
music.
Buk’s been saluted by
diversity like
U2, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Nirvana, Bush, the Cars,
and Concrete Blonde.

I’ve been
accused
of being mused by
Bukowski
and his oeuvre.

Look both ways for the sin of admiring the imperfect,
the toil of the briar patch, the desire for love and passion.
Mind the gaps lest we stumble into the First Self-righteous Church.

This is the poem, “To The Whore Who Took My Poems” … done operatically (a bit risqué). My apologies if this youtube does not work for you.

Sammi’s Weekender #273 (alcazar)

A 76-word, first-word, acrostic poem, using alcazar, meaning a Spanish fortress, palace, or castle.
I did not use the prompt word as a theme.

Click this graphic to read more writings of alcazar,

Wind, Rain, and Life

All I ask are a few good poems and stories and to have

Lived and loved my seventy-six years as me. My

Children and my children’s children brought me to heavenly happiness

As rain brought new life later claimed by the dry range and the breezes of soft

Zephyrus gently passing us by, like time-forgotten memories

Around our lives with now-shortened horizons pointing to sunsets

Restoring my faith in the discovered purposes of life and humanity.

Look both ways to protect your citadel from plunder and attack.
Mind the gaps of your castle walls which may be vulnerable to the darkness of passing time.