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Saturday, May 21, 2011


The seeds that were planted are now seeing their blossoming beauty shine. The accompanying photo shows my tulips. What has your planting brought forth? What is your bloom? Write about what has flourished from your nurturing and attention. If it is an actual plant or flower, use the name as your title and write your poem. If it reaches beyond botany, write about what your work has accomplished. All our labors are worth expressing.

Marie Elena’s submission:

She looks into my eyes, her smile blossoms,
and it becomes crystal clear
she’s flourishing with love.

Walt's Entry:


A gentle kiss
planted, pressed flesh
in a fresh breath.
Nurturing and
caressing, expressing
the early growth of love
through the colorful flowering
of hearts in full bloom.
Two lips tasting love’s nectar
a savory sip.


The poems posted for the Week #3 prompt, "From Our Fertile Muses" have continued to impress. We're just about ready to see the fruits of our efforts as our beautiful words begin to flourish. Now, for this week’s "Blooms":

Marie Elena's selection – Katie Dixon’s Untitled draft:

Katie’s draft is dense with imagery, and speaks both physically and metaphorically.  “We paraded down the rows, looking only side-to-side with our wide-brimmed hats and simple pails of water” is pleasingly unpretentious in its imagery, yet hints at possible trouble on the path ahead, actually and figuratively.  I think this would be a great opening for Katie’s poem.

I am gripped by the number of lines in this short piece that stand alone as quotable words of wisdom.

 -  “Water and sun we had and we smiled, while creeping roots stole silently beneath.”

-  “But salty tears do not grow beauty from shallow soil.”

-  “Lessons hard-learned have rescued beauty from ignorance.”

This is a wonderful poem that is potentially fabulous, in my opinion.

Untitled by Katie Dixon

At first we did not notice as they wound
around our ankles, shedding them like shoes.
We paraded proudly down the rows looking only side
To side with our wide-brimmed hats and simple pails of water.

Everything we learned said everything
We’d need was water and sunshine to grow.
Water and sun we had and we smiled,
While creeping roots stole silently beneath.

And then our walks got harder.
Calves straining at the tangled vines and our backs
wondered from where they’d come as we bent
fighting to free our legs from their wicked fingers.

Turning to our flowering friends, our innocent,
wincing eyes wept, straining to find hidden faces.
But salty tears do not grow beauty from shallow soil
And good and bad swirl together in their reflective pools.

“These weeds have turned to trees!” I shout.
Grasping, tearing with rough worn hands
“We’ll never get them down.” But we let the
Never carry over into our night-long toil.

The day soon rises on straining shoulders;
Our Weathered faces speak the sun.
Pails are cast aside for buckets
And our callused feet sigh in cool, soaked soil.

Our now muscled forms tread lightly on tender,
tended earth. Knowing eyes keep careful watch
over fledglings finally free. Lessons hard-learned
have rescued beauty from ignorance.

Walt's choice is Andrew Kreider's "Salt":

Andrew captured the essence of salt quite well. It adds flavor to life, but can be caustic and harmful if not taken in the right balance. The moderation he prescribes finds the right proportion.

“Life and death in each farmer’s hands” and “Helping wheat and weeds grow up together” are two lines that express this concept well. We control how much of ourselves to reveal to nurture or destroy our relationships. It brings us to a common understanding, despite our obvious differences, allowing us to grow and exist together. Freedom shared.

SALT by Andrew Kreider

It’s time to mow the grass for the first time
This spring – the tousled dandelion heads
Bobbing above great ragged waves of green.
Next to the street, the lawn is struggling,
Burned under mounds of salt thrown down by plows
Last winter. Nothing can live with that much salt.

My father told me once how they used salt
In the ancient world, as fertilizer,
Spreading it on the fields to make crops grow.
Too much salt in one place damaged the soil,
Scorched beyond use. But when spread thin it was
Golden! Life and death in each farmer’s hands.

The good book says: you are salt for the earth.
And I think of how we all get piled up
In great toxic mounds of long-lost goodness.
We poison our own back yards, when we could
Be scooped up and scattered to the fresh winds
Helping wheat and weeds grow up together.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

IN-FORM POET: The Alouette

The Alouette was created by Jan Turner.

It consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:

Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b

"Alouette" is a French word, which means ‘skylark’, and this form is reminiscent of the lark’s song-like expression as presented here. The word 'alouette' can also mean "a children's song" (usually sung in a group). This poetry form is not necessarily for children's poetry (although can be applied that way), as it works through that style with short lines.


Marie Elena’s Alouette for "wee little kidlins" 

Timberly tumble
Jimberly jumble
Let’s go to the petting zoo.
Wigglety wiggle
Gigglety giggle
Loads of fun things we can do!

Timberly tumble
Jimberly jumble
Feel the fluffy bunny fur.
Wigglety wiggle
Gigglety giggle
Listen to the tiger purr.

Timberly tumble
Jimberly jumble
Bottle-feed a baby goat.
Wigglety wiggle
Gigglety giggle
Screech Owl sings a high-pitched note.

Timberly tumble
Jimberly jumble
Milk a mama dairy cow.
Wigglety wiggle
Gigglety giggle
Mama says, "Be careful, now!"

Timberly tumble
Jimberly jumble
Crackers for a pretty doe.
Mumbley mumble
Grumbley grumble
Mama said it’s time to go.

Copyright © 2011 Marie Elena Good

Walt’s Alouette:

I hear it gently,
and I mentally
take note of the lilting song.
Angel voices sing
the soundtrack of Spring.
Their chorus is loud and strong.

Morning brings their sound,
and it is around
dawn’s first light that I hear it.
A poet’s heart sees
the living beauty
within euphonic spirit.

I begin each day
the exact same way.
I am thankful for this gift.
My whispered prayer
rises through the air;
as their harmonies uplift.

Copyright © 2011 Walt Wojtanik

Try an Alouette if the muse strikes you.

Monday, May 16, 2011


Marie and Walt have recently announced the inclusion of Web Wednesday and In -Form Poet to augment the Weekly Sunday Prompt. These features will be posted on alternate Wednesdays. This week (May 18) will be the initial In-Form Poet, with Web Wednesday to follow on (May 25). This will allow us to gather the necessary  material of the featured poet. And don't worry if you do not currently have a blog or URL. We will still highlight your works here.

So remember to watch for the poetic form this week on Wednesday! Show us how you people poem!

Sunday, May 15, 2011


We have planted our garden and have watered the seeds. The next step would be to "fertilize" the soil – from all that fertilizer can be, beauty is nurtured through its application. Think in terms of "Out of something bad, something good" or making the best of a bad situation. Write a poem that expresses how something not deemed to be the best, works out in the end better than you could have desired.

Marie Elena’s example:

“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Matthew 4:4.

Sustenance (A Kyrielle)

A seed lay wilting deep within;
Its shallow roots were frail and thin.
The Gardener spoke; its soul was stirred
to feast upon God’s sovereign Word.

Its thirsty roots took hold and fed,
reached deeper down, increased, and spread.
A miracle of life was spurred
by feasting on God’s sovereign Word.

Exquisite blooms released sweet scent,
dispersing precious seeds, once spent.
Please, tender sprouts; don’t be deterred
from feasting on God’s sovereign Word.

Walt’s effort:


Clip and sort;
shards of paper left to fall.
Ten cents off;
buy one; get one.
Expiration dates not heeded
until after needed.
A lot of time wasted
before the feast is tasted.
Your total savings today
is seven seventy three.
Such is our shopping spree
and me, left holding your coupons.