Welcome to Poetic Bloomings! - New visitors are encouraged to check this link for information about Poetic Bloomings. Thank you for joining our "Garden Walk."

Saturday, July 2, 2011

A FRIEND INDEED – Prompt # 10

In the states, we will celebrate our independence day this week. Around Buffalo there is a celebration that spans from Buffalo to Fort Erie, Canada. Called the "Friendship Festival" it pays tribute to our Fourth of July celebration and Canada Day (July 1). Write about a friend and their influence on your life.

As a "wild-card" prompt, write an Independence Day poem. (For our friends outside of the Continental US, write about the big celebration from your locale)

Marie Elena’s Good work:

Changed for Good

“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.

“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
But you doubted you,
And I doubted me.

Came tickles and pokes,
And glances and notes;
Then gazes and hugs,
And lingering goodbyes.

“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.

“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
No doubt on your part,
No doubt upon mine.

“For richer, for poorer,
In sickness and health”
Eternally altered,
Our lives intertwined.

Walt’s Tale of Brotherhood:


Four abreast, a test
of our mother’s resolve.
That we would evolve
into the men we’ve become
is a testament to her temperament.

We came from the same womb,
shared the same room; bunk beds.
And instead of pulling together,
we fought to tear apart what
was expected of us.

Our fight was not without gain.
Dominance was the grail
in our never fail battle to rattle
our foundation. We were brothers
but our mother’s worst nightmare.

Grown to adulthood, it would stand
to reason that our seasoning would bring
a camaraderie that would meld us
into a band of unlikely souls
filling the holes that gaped our bond.

Now the friends that once tattered the fabric
have become strong and impenetrable,
iron-clad lads with a lot of bad blood
to transfuse. We can all use its soothing balm,
to calm and bring us healing.

Healing from the inside out,
there leaves little doubt that
being brothers brought us to be
the friends we always needed.
Brothers are friends indeed.


As we return to terra firma, it has been a refreshing week of outta sight poetry here at POETIC BLOOMINGS. All of our amazing poets stretched their muses and imaginations and boldly went where few have gone before. In reading this week's work, there was stellar work by our regular contributors, but the emergence of many new names and viewpoints has added greatly to our expressive excellence. Without further ado, here are Marie Elena's and my Beautiful Blooms for Week #9.

In Marie Elena’s Orbit:

I have to wonder if there will ever be a week in which there is only one clear “pick” for me. Once again, I had a difficult time choosing only one … there were three out here that I could easily have highlighted. I finally decided on De Jackson’s “Celestial Notes to My Sometimes Self.”

This is classic De: A short piece dense with imagery, amusing phrasing, and excellent insight. Even if I read no further than the title, I’d be happy I didn’t miss out. Terrific work, as always, De. I read you.


It’s all clear
from up here.

So much doesn’t matter.
Feelings aren’t fact.
Spill your life out in ink, sweat, tears.
Just love. Especially yourself.

I’m writing it all in the stars.

Do you read me?

Walt’s telemetry:

We have all experienced the sensation of smallness; being a little minnow in the fishbowl of life. The beauty around us astounds us, and we feel inconsequential. The tendency is to just want to cut all ties and drift into the background.

This concept is beautifully described in this week’s piece by Jerry Walraven. Chev’s poem, “On Being Tethered in Space” is descriptive and imaginative, and gets my vote for a Beautiful Bloom…


The beauty of creation staggers me.

Unable to take in the enormity of space,
unable to touch down,
even on Mars (close enough to touch)
and taste Martian soil.

Or dance
with the Jovian moons.

This narrow focus
on human foibles
on one spec of cosmic dust.
There is no rising above.

So I close my eyes
and cut my tether.
Another piece
of human space junk.


As promised, the winner of the WOOD chapbook shall be revealed.

In many instances, the view from space always evokes comments about the smallness of the planets in the cosmos. Our own planet earth get referenced as a “blue marble”. In her poem, “I Concur”, Connie L. Peters mentions this blue marble and thus, wins the book. Connie, if you will e-mail me at poeticbloomings@yahoo.com with your information, I will send WOOD out to you as soon as possible. Thanks all for your enthusiastic participation!

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

TBA - Winner of the chapbook, WOOD

For the curious at heart, there will be a winner named for the copy of my chapbook, WOOD. It will be announced along with Saturday's "Beautiful Blooms". It did not make the title, but was mentioned in the body of one of the poems. Great work all.


Tuesday, June 28, 2011

IN-FORM POET - The Monchielle

The trend for In-Form Poet has been to highlight a uniquely different form than the norm.
Today’s offering is the Monchielle, a form created by Jim T. Henriksen.

The Monchielle is a poem consisting of four five-line stanzas where the first line repeats in each verse. Each line within the stanzas consist of six syllables, and lines three and five rhyme. The rhyme pattern is Abcdc Aefgf Ahiji Aklml.

Marie Elena’s Monchielle:


Not all who dare to dream
Pursue the vision’s call.
Life dares obstruct their view,
Or taunts their fragile core,
And plans then go askew.

Not all who dare to dream
Take pleasure in the path.
Though they may first begin
With passion at the helm,
The process wears them thin.

Not all who dare to dream
Seek guidance from Above.
Bold faith begins to pale,
And expectations wane,
Then in the end, they fail.

Not all who dare to dream
Race on, and finish strong.
You dreamed, you sought, you vowed.
Your vision, now fulfilled,
You’ve reason to be proud.

Walt’s poem:

In The Distance She Stands (Monchielle)

In the distance she stands,
softly angelic, she.
Beauty beyond compare,
an ever-present smile
and windblown auburn hair.

In the distance she stands,
a lost soul, complacent.
Searching the horizon
for a glimpse of love’s shine;
compassion’s communion.

In the distance she stands,
a mournful heart, guarded.
Longing life’s sweet caress,
apparition most sweet;
whose love beats in my chest.

In the distance she stands,
dispersing in the mist;
a sad, sun-kissed farewell,
an ever-lasting love
here, where my angel fell.

Copyright © 2011 – Walt Wojtanik