2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 25

For today’s prompt, please write a consumption poem. There are any number of things we consume as people, and even more if you think outside the human experience. Some are good, some not so much. But there’s so much consumption going on every single day that it’s a great topic for poeming.

Here’s my attempt:

“Black (out) Friday”

I’d be up hunting for the best deals too
if it weren’t for yesterday and all that
food and football. I’d say maybe next year,
but I know both my stomach and taste buds
too well. So good on you for getting up
and helping the economy. I’ll be
content to pay more so I can sleep in.

*****

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

And check out my other blog: My Name Is Not Bob.

 

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225 thoughts on “2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 25

  1. Benjamin Thomas

    MINDLESS ABERRATIONS (consumed by anger)

    Serried thoughts

    of the offense at hand

    sputtering hate, frenzy

    detesting each demand

    mindless aberrations

    have set me aflame

    embroiled

    embittered

    state of mind

    definitely not the same

  2. Sibella

    Suck It Up

    Yeah, like pain, grief, potholes, shipwrecks,
    suicidal ideation, oppression,
    acrophobia, and chiggers
    can be overcome by
    consumption
    with the
    proper
    straw.

    Pamela Murray Winters

  3. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Black Friday
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    I’m opting out this year,
    content to remain home
    in front of this screen
    with my mandarin pie
    and Mexican mocha
    perched to one side,
    channeling eBay (™) and Amazon (™)
    on my trusty AMD Athlon (™)
    while the rest of world
    elbows and shoves
    tasers and pepper sprays
    one other in lines
    too long to chat friendly
    or risk losing your place
    no matter how bad you have to pee.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  4. Bruce Niedt

    Doorbuster

    So smug you are – you camped out overnight
    in front of that big-box store to be first in line
    for that laptop, that HDTV, that Blu-Ray video.
    And you got them all, except you’re not exactly
    sure what to do with them. You don’t seem
    too worried about your credit limit either.

    In the old days “consumption” was what they
    called tuberculosis, an insidious disease caused
    by a bacteria in the lungs. Victims would lose
    weight drastically, wasting away, eaten up inside.

    What’s eating you?

  5. Marian O'Brien Paul

    Consumption, an Older Definition

    Tuberculosis
    was once known as consumption
    the wasting disease

    It was contagious
    whispered about in secret
    for fear of shunning

    Children sent away
    to live with aunts and uncles
    and grow up elsewhere

    Told not to admit
    their mother had passed away
    dead of consumption

    Their marriage chances
    as adults might be lessened
    if the truth were known

    A great-grandmother
    of my own caught the disease
    and began wasting

    Her small daughter was
    sent to Toronto: hidden
    away till later.

    My sister, tracing
    genealogy stumbled
    upon the secret.

  6. zwrite1

    Dark Cannot Consume Light

    Try as it might, the dark can never consume the light.
    Even in the darkest times, sparks and embers
    remind us that we are here by God’s design.
    So light a candle to push the dark away.
    No matter how dark the night,
    There will always be a bright new day.

  7. Janet Rice Carnahan

    ALL GONE

    Logged in,
    Let the poems begin.
    Got the prompt,
    Let the words romp!
    Grab an image,
    Let it age,
    Work it around,
    Give it sound,
    See what was found!
    Morning disappears,
    Fog clears,
    Afternoon brings a beach stroll,
    Finding hermit crabs in a hole,
    Eating lunch in a garden paradise,
    Ok . . . some chocolate vice!
    Set up an early Christmas,
    Time with the kids and us,
    Dinner is late,
    Yet tasty and great,
    Life is a quite a gift,
    Everything wonderful does uplift!
    A round a drumming,
    Sets the evening right . . . we’re humming!
    Oh, wait,
    After much debate,
    A poem, what poem where,
    I kept planning it, I swear,
    Now I am down to just this late night rhyme,
    Because I clearly today I was consumed,

    By time!

  8. PKP

    Jane & Sara M.

    Have consumed your comments on my poems and others. Jane with careful referencing so no poet could feel unread – Sara M. with an enthusiasm that could life the lowest spirit. I have consumed not only your words to but eaten your comments to others and I am full with the spirit of your care and generosity. A true Thanks Giving to you both – and to all the wonderful poems here – I am crashing and apologize for my lack of commentary and feel somewhat gluttonous for satiating myself with Jane and Sara M.

    Thanks you all – for such beautiful work and such a wonderful community of poets 🙂

  9. iainspapa

    Consumption Junction

    Gimme gimme gimme
    Lemme have that thing you’ve got,
    Are you gonna finish that?
    I’ll take it if you’re not.
    I’m kinda stuffed from dinner
    So I’ll wrap it up to go.
    I might get hungry later on
    And, well, you never know.

    Count the things you own and add
    The things you’ve thrown away,
    And multiply the total by
    The envy cast your way.
    Consumption’s not the goal in life
    But that’s how we keep score.
    Success is how it feels to know
    That you’re the one with more.

    Your TV and my TV
    Are practically the same,
    But my TV has hi-fi speakers
    Built into the frame.
    Sixty-inch diagonal?
    Mine’s measured side-to-side.
    Of course, for me it’s just TV
    And not a source of pride.

    Count the things you own and add
    The things you’ve thrown away,
    And multiply the total by
    The envy cast your way.
    Consumption’s not the goal in life
    But that’s how we keep score.
    Success is how it feels to know
    That you’re the one with more.

    I like your neighborhood a lot.
    I lived around the block
    Until I got promoted
    So I moved. That’s not a knock:
    A starter home’s a special place,
    The first you ever own,
    But comes a time you realize
    It’s something you’ve outgrown.

    Count the things you own and add
    The things you’ve thrown away,
    And multiply the total by
    The envy cast your way.
    Consumption’s not the goal in life
    But that’s how we keep score.
    Success is how it feels to know
    That you’re the one with more.

    http://trollpants.wordpress.com

  10. Jacqueline Hallenbeck

    All-You-Can-Eat

    I’ll never understand why
    they all made such a fuss
    It clearly read “All-You-Can-Eat”
    I paid my way in cash

    I was polite with all the help
    I wasn’t even rude
    I sat down in my chair
    and ate up all the food

    But since I was still hungry
    I tried the silverware
    I gobbled up some tables
    and nibbled on some chairs

    Walked up and down the aisles
    and since it was self-service
    I started chewing on customers
    who evaded me, quite nervous

    And being that he was nasty
    and gave me a dirty look
    I headed for the kitchen
    and swallowed up the cook

    Police were called, I’m sad to say
    They couldn’t jail me, of course
    Because it said “All-You-Can-Eat”
    and I eat like a horse

  11. seingraham

    Pride of Consumership Goeth Before Many a Fall

    Living in an age where being materialistic
    Is viewed, and rightly so, with intolerance
    Greed becoming out-dated, one hopes
    When the top one percent has the most
    And are saying plainly to the rest,
    “Let them eat cake,” then wondering
    What all the occupying nonsense is about

    It’s hard not to imagine that karma might
    Be about to play her hand and the true
    Meaning of consumption become known
    Once again; them that has gets – well, ill
    Or worse – there is worse, after all

    If nobless oblige has gone by-the-by
    Then perhaps it’s time for whatever gods
    There are, if there are such gods
    To level the playing field and without
    Necessitating the need for us becoming socialists
    Or anything so radical as all that – let those
    Who would be rich and ignorant to those
    Who would be poverty-stricken – learn
    What it is to suffer from things that money
    Cannot buy nor fix …

    Let those with unlimited wealth
    Have their cries and prayers
    Go unheeded as they throw their money
    Into the coffers of the pharmaceuticals
    And all other manner of help they seek

    And realize as they scrape their children
    Off the sidewalks of Wall Street—
    Not one to name names but
    Can you hear me in your cell
    Bernie Madoff? Happy there, you say?
    What of your poor son?—
    That conspicuous consumerism
    Thy name is greed and you are responsible
    For the state of the union – not alone
    But certainly for a goodly portion

      1. seingraham

        Thanks Dr.P – sorry for the rant but sometimes it just gets old, you know? When I heard Madoff say in an interview how relieved he was to be in prison and away from all the people “bothering” him, I had some very ugly thoughts I’m afraid …

  12. Dan Collins

    Young Man on Garland Road

    I am concerned for a young
    man consumed by the world.
    He cannot be more than
    twenty-four. I only see him
    every so often in the course
    of his travels, up and down
    Garland road. It is always
    a surprise. He disappears
    for a month, for a week, then
    returns, more scraggly than
    before. I don’t know how he
    survives. He does not seem
    concerned that he is a few
    short meals and a night
    of overexposure from
    a steel drawer downtown.
    He is so thin that his pants
    have nothing to hang on to,
    so he holds them with one
    hand and still shows his bare
    ass to the wind. No one seems
    to notice the miracle of his
    not tripping over them.
    His hair is matted. His mind
    is gone. He does not speak
    when I stop him and give him
    money or clothes I’ve tucked
    in the trunk some time ago. He
    takes what I offer then turns
    without a sound, but his gaze
    makes no excuse. He never
    hides his true face peering
    up from the pit of one eye.

  13. cstewart

    Consumption

    The giant funnel of the earth,
    Is filled with immense beauty.
    It loses a little of its contents
    On a daily basis.

    The beauty does not escape.
    It does not remake itself,
    Something falls out the bottom
    Of the funnel…
    Changed into unrecognizable
    Compounds and forms.

    These new elements and objects,
    Propagate unusual, new biology,
    And challenge us,
    To live in the wake.
    Of our strange, improvised world.

  14. RJ Clarken

    Hopeful Ink

    “Poetry and consumption are the most flattering of diseases.” ~William Shenstone

    To dream, perchance, to write…to dare;
    consumptives pray for love of air
    and poets write of love and prayer.
    Does it matter? I think…
    I think it does, since they’re aware
    of how life doesn’t always square,
    but pens hold hopeful ink.

    ###

    Note: The form is a Burns Stanza, also known as the Standard Habbie.

  15. J.lynn Sheridan

    “Consuming Hope”

    I guess I’ll hang around with you awhile . . .
    and watch the snowflakes freckle your eyelashes,
    scarf wrapped tightly, your cotton mittens petting
    my leather glove, on our bench, under LED lit trees.

    I guess I’ll hang around with you. . .
    and watch the shoppers whooshing to and fro with
    China imports jostling inside their red and green carrier
    bags.

    I guess I’ll hang around . . .
    and drink mocha pearls thrown to swine
    along with the best of them, blistered feet
    and aching knees, elves’ bells a’ring ding-a-ling.

    I’ll hang around . . .
    as the costumed trio harmonizes, I chime, you
    chime, we all chime in on Silent Night until
    we’re lulled into a Shepherd’s starry host and
    I say to you that I wish

    we could hang . . .
    onto the three-hundred and sixty-five days of hope
    and peace the carolers sing about every year.

    We could . . .
    you say just before you ask me if I’ve ever smelled
    hope. I tell you no and you say, it’s like listening to the
    thunder; you know it’s there but you can’t see it.

    We . . .
    hang around listening/inhaling until your mitten
    freezes to my glove then we walk home with hope
    jostling inside our souls.

  16. Sara McNulty

    Consuming and Being Consumed

    My easiest expressions
    of warmth and pleasure
    are conveyed by composition,
    or cooking food for friends
    who consume with gusto,
    and carry on conversation,
    that rings `round the table
    like the tinkling of silver bells.

  17. RASlater

    Blazing Glance

    God just glanced at me
    Burning blazing fire
    Racing across my bones
    Searing my flesh
    Hair standing on end
    Just a look, just a touch
    And all that I am
    Known to Him
    No hidden flaw
    Secrets revealed
    Yet there is no shame
    Liquid gold coursing my veins
    As He speaks my name
    So similiar to my lover
    The thrill, the warmth, the love
    Passion and comfort

  18. MiskMask

    Seeing Through Smoke

    Sparks of ideas, each a twinkling
    firefly in the night sky, rising
    smoke twirling into curls
    of knowledge like a flag unfurling

    in the air. Here in the square
    we’re a small crowd, our faces
    radiant from the fire’s glow,
    most of us stunned and wordless

    except for soft muffled sobs.
    Flames dance across letters,
    savouring the flavour of words,
    these forbidden sweets, these

    banned treats for the imagination,
    the moral torchbearers,
    they burn books and the future
    is consumed by their fire.

  19. posmic

    Buy

    pillar candles
    red, white, green, gold

    fluffy slippers
    in several common sizes

    cookie jars
    Santa motif, Snowman, both

    cheap bottle of
    wine—white, red, indifferent

    a scarf, perhaps,
    rayon, vague ethnic pattern

    an ornament,
    cast resin, in a popular theme

    picture frame
    painted gold, basket weave

    these are
    the things that will keep you safe

    against visitors
    bearing unanticipated gifts

    but still
    you will feel empty, tattered as

    that plastic bag
    stuck in a tree until spring.

  20. richard-merlin atwater

    Poet’s Note:
    Robert Louis Stevenson died in the Samoan islands at the age of 44 of consumption (tuberculosis). William Henley, the British poet (who was a playwright collaborator with R.L. Stevenson) died of the same disease at age 54, and John Keats the British romance poet of the noted trio (John Keats, Percy Bysche Shelley, and Lord George Byron) died of consumption as well at age 25! He was considered to be one of the greatest of poets in all of history. The atheist, Shelley drowned in an Italian sea at age 29, he was married to his second wife Mary Shelley who was author of Frankenstein, and Byron died at age 35 catching fever after fighting for Greek independence as an outcast from England due to his reprobate character seducing the wives of multiple mdiplomats. Beware the onslaught’s of viruses and bacteria, but protect yourself most by living a righteous life to await a more glorious resurrection at the return of the Master (possibly as soon as April 2020 A.D. ! Hahahha. I can’t tell you the day nor the hour—The good Book says “No man knows the day nor the hour”–so if you wish to know that–you must ask a woman!!

      1. richard-merlin atwater

        Thanks Janet–at least you truly understood both the correct interpretation of my poem and the humor at the bottom while others unfortunately had wild misinterpretations and took offense beyond my wildest imagination of commentary by them. YOU are a kindhearted spirit with correct interpretations not given to”forced political correctness” in literary pursuits, Thanks again for your kindness Rich

      1. richard-merlin atwater

        Comment about the poem above for clarification of understanding that many famous writers died of consumption (tuberculosis) and that as mortals we are all subject to maladies and therefore should have COMPASSION on one another in time of illness. Maybe YOU didnt get the point of explanation, but others did. While some found it to be absurd with their wild interpretations, thus all the more necessary for such a commentary explanation. Some people didn’t understnad the true meaning of some poems>>!! SOrry to have hurt your feelings unknowingly!!

  21. De Jackson

    **gulp**

    There are days
    I want to
    absorb
    my children
    inhale their laughter
    drink in sweet skin
    collect sunshine smiles
    in pillowcase, pocket
    feast on every
    amazing moment
    I might call
    them mine.

    And then there are
    moments
    (ok, weeks)
    when I understand
    why
    animals
    sometimes
    eat
    their
    young.

  22. RJ Clarken

    Homework Consumption Strategies

    “Home computers are being called upon to perform many new functions, including the consumption of homework formerly eaten by the dog.” ~Doug Larson

    When in doubt, do not blame yourself.
    Instead, blame the computer or
    pass the blame-buck onto your dog
    since either way, it’s not your fault.

    So…do your homework (or don’t) but
    when in doubt, do not blame yourself,
    for what is homework but this thing
    which needs a bit of consumption,

    conspicuous or not. Functions
    like homework beg to be eaten.
    When in doubt, do not blame yourself.
    Let others do your dirty work

    and thus you can keep your hands and
    your conscience clear and clean. Three cheers
    for dogs – and for home computers.
    When in doubt, do not blame yourself.

    ###

    Note: The form is Quatern.

    Just got home from working Black Friday. Conspicuous consumption at its best. ☺ Anyway, hopefully I’ll be back later to read.

  23. richard-merlin atwater

    Mortality and Robert Louis Stevenson, et al
    By Richard-Merlin Atwater Nov. 25, 2011

    Scotland is a dreary place in winter as to weather,
    Cold, and sleet, and rain, and snow come down in sheets,
    Yet indoors– writers may escape the onslaught, nether
    Garments needed by a coal of fire to warm the feet with heats.

    I presume, imagine, bundled up in warm attire, there sat
    Robert Louis Stevenson, quill in hand, to write the story
    Of Treasure Island, Kidnapped too, and with sunny disposition begat
    Children’s poems in A Child’s Garden of Verses in a flurry–

    Of writing inspiration, which included Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde,
    I wonder how Joanne “Jo” called J.K. Rowling fared on winter nights,
    To come up with Harry Potter in a Scottish frozen eventide,
    As she has now outlived her Scottish predecessor, far north of Isle of Wight’s—

    Location in the English Channel, by at least two years of mortality,
    For thus to escape the wintry clime he moved far off to Samoa island,
    To provide a clime for recuperation and recovery from a morose fashionality,
    That called for sunny climes to combat the dire straits of “disease of Thailand”,

    And many a third world clime where consumption took its course among the poor
    And the elite, the same tuberculosis that felled poet of Invictus as he wrote about his fate,
    William Henley died like Stevenson, coughing phlegm, spewing blood and gore,
    Even as John Keats who as poet in his youth died in Rome seeking relief of late–

    Oh how despondent and crestfallen is the brow of those who thus suffer,
    Mortality’s ill-fated maladies which confront us all, to some degree in time,
    May we have full compassion upon our fellow beings who stand to buffer
    Against the onslaughts of life in solitude, and oft move on before their prime!

    1. Sharp Little Pencil

      Richard, your “atheist” cracks, snide remarks about a woman who dares write under her first initials instead of her oh-so-feminine first name, and general air of “I am superior to you poor suffering heathens” pretentiousness, is evidence of your sad, limited worldview. I thought you’d been banned from this blog a long time ago.

      Have fun, y’all. You may have not been through the whole Richard Merlin-Atwater Destroyer of the Berlin Wall misogynist Mormon Or Go To Hell stuff before, but I am done here for good.

      I respect all the other poets on this blog, but believe me, this little poem is just the first shot over the bow, and it’s all downhill from here. I support the First Amendment, but this poet has plagiarized my work and insulted some poets publicly, with the full knowledge of RBL… and I find Atwater’s presence here both an insult and a disappointment. Sincerely, Amy Barlow Liberatore

        1. richard-merlin atwater

          Tracy,
          FREE AGENCY still prevails in “the land of the FREE and the home of the BRAVE”. I accept your comment more willingly and readily than Amy’s unfounded total misinterpretations. At least , in regards to my writings,YOU skip over them completely and that’s fine-even if based on a minor prejudice against me. I put my life on the line so you could be FREE to read or not read, or do as you wish, as for all others too. I’m a 100% permanent and totally disabled Vietnam Veteran who also served in the Persian Gulf War with a 3o year distinguished career in Air Force intelligence. My theme has always been to provide FREEDOM for ALL Americans of any persuasion, no matter who they are, or what they believe. But I NEVER subscribe to “political correctness” of forced views and false interpretations, especially as a minority Mormon Christian from “Down East” New England. Historical persecution of the MOrmon FAITH by those who hold prejudice is NOT the American way.. .And my poetry has no prejudice towards ANYONE even though as a BIBLE believing Christsin I denounce homosexuality, ultra-left femininism, bigoted biased anti-Mormonism not based on TRUTH, and all other forms of unAmericanism. My poem today was completely misinterpreted and falsely accused with STUPID remarks that are nothing but complete prejuducial bigotry and FOOLISHNESS>
          To put the facts straight my poem was in RESPECT of Joanne Rowling as author of Harry Potter. She is a PROFESSED Christian herself openly in public, she states openly that her publisher asked her to make up some initials to use as author since teen boys were not likely to buy her books otherwise. She chose the letter “K” as a FAKE middle initial and used R.K. Rowling as her penname . Her real married name is MURRAY. Other famous authors of Scotland died of CONSUMPTION–the prompt word of the day! I wrote about that theme and told of those who died of that disease. I stated in my poem—incidentally, in TRIBUTE to Joanne Rowling that fortunately she is still alive beyond the age of Robert Louis Stevenson to carry on her good work as a CHARITABLE Christan fund raiser for many causes–especially of poor children so they wil not suffer deprivation that leads to such diseases as CONSUMPTION which has had a recurrence in OUR day. She is a HERO in my eyes. And yet AMY’s misinterpreteation tried to make it look like i was denouncing her as a femininst writer that i disliked, What a PERVERTED outlook and misinterpretation from one who knows NOTHING about Mrs Murray (alias RK ROWLING) who as a faithful Christian is doing GREAT Charitable works with her $1 billion as the 1oth most wealthy woman in the UK. I salute her , even if Amy thinks falsely that she is a feminist too with perverted lifestyle. She is NOT such, but a good Christian woman who wrote Harry Potter as a children’s entertainment not as OCCULT belief in wizardry that many others thought she espoused. NOW you know “the rest of the story” as Paul Harvey would have said if he was still around–may his good Christian soul rest in PEACE. And may you also find peace as you hopefully THINK twice before making comments just to appease others. Please take a lok at JANETRUTH’s comments given in 2 locations in direct opposition to the one’s YOU and Amy posted–and realize that some woman have a more STRAIGHT view on life that is also acceptable. She was a true LADY ad also saqw the purpose and later humopr in my commentary remarks tat YOU completely overlooked in prejudice. But I forgive and forget–let’s move on to a HAPPY conclusion.
          Merry Christmas to YOU and AMY in advance from a CHRISTIAN Mormon minority of Maine retired to Florida.
          P.S.
          I have no prejudice towards WOMEN as Amy would say, I have a lovely 18 year old college student daughter who would disagree with both of you, and on Valentine’s Day 2012 I’m marrying a lovely lady who would surely disafree with both of you as well. Signed with Respect and Soundness of form conviction as aChristioan–Sir Richard-Merlin Atwater, Major, US Air Force INTELLIGENCE, RETIRED

      1. richard-merlin atwater

        Amy, YOU must suffer from a strange malady of “mental pictures” that go way out into the “far blue yonder” of interpretations. I have absolutely NO IDEA whatsoever what YOU are even talking about. You have the MOST absurd interpretations of any one I ever heard of since what you imply is ABSOLUTELY a falsehood of huge proportions beyond the wildest of imaginations towards slanderous misinterpretations. Where on earth did i ever plaigerize anything of YOURS. Where on earth do you get ANY idea whatsoever of my writing about anti-feminine in regards to J.K Rowling of Harry Poter fame. Even your information is inaccurate. She has no middle initial of “K” at all. That was given to her by her publisher who told her it was best to use made up initials since teen boys were less likely to buy books written by a woman. She agreed to do so by her publishers suggestion. But that has NOTHING whatsoever to do with my poem at all. My poem was about “consumption” as a disease that has taken the toll of many a famous writer and that we should have compasssion upon all who suffer of any malady in life since we are all mortal. YOUR interpretation of my poem is absolutely ABSURD beyond belief. There is nothing whatsoever about atheists in my poem at all, even though it’s obvious from my writings i’m a CHRISTIAN in my beliefs. I served 30 years as an Air Force officer in 2 wars putting my life on the line to defend the rights of ALL Americans to BELIEVE whatever they wish to believe (including atheists) even if i disagree with them. I am NOT one given to forced “politcal corrctness” when it comes to writing or any other matter. I believe in complete FREEDOM for all. Yet YOU force YOUR false interpretations against me every time. Then you go on to blast my own religious faith as a minority Mormon in bigotry of remarks that is more appalling than your false accusations of misinterpretations of my poetry. Where YOU find “snide remarks about women in my poetry is quite offensive to me” . I have great respect for women in genral, I’m the father of a lovely daughter age 18 in college, and i just got engaged this week to be married on Valentine’s DAY. wHERE ON EARTH you GET YOUR IDEAS ABOUT MY POETRY IS strange INDEED WITH PURE HATRED IT SEEMS OF ME, mORMONISM, AND cHRISTIANS WHO DON’T BELIEVE AS you DO. My daughter is a lover of Harry Potter and read all 7 books and i myself went to see all the movies with her. She also loves the Twilight series and read all those books too, and I went to all those movies with her as well. YOUR commnets are OFFENSIVE, FALSE, BIGOTED, and plain STUPID. But as a Christian gemntleman I forgive YOU for such ignorance in communication of FALSE words that you seem to harrow up in your mind in a desire to stifle literary works you don’t seem to like. MOst offesnsive is your bigotry towards trhe minority Christian faith of Mormonism. I let ANYONE choose whatever FAITH (or non-Faith) they wish to choose as an AMEREICAN military officer who put my life on the line to defend that RIGHT to believe as you wish to believe, even if i disagree with anyone’s believe. YOU seem to put forced political correctness at the top of your commentary agenda and i’m opposed to you doing so as an American man of FREEDOM> I assume there are many in your position who oppose Mitt Romney under trhe same grounds of hating minority Mormon Chrisiotans for their beliefs. It’s true that Mormon Christians oppose atheists and homosexuals and all kinds of ACTIONS in the latter-days, but we are NOT bigoted about it. It is our firm belief in the BIBLE that places us on that track. I’m appalled on this Thanksgiving week about your totally FALSE statements and misinterpretations of my poem and find it sad that i find it necessary to have to make this justification statement at all. Let’s move on to a better future and let by-gones be by-gones and erase this sad episode from our literary poetic asides experience. YOUR interpretation is ENTIRELY FALSE. Respectfully, Richard-Merlin Atwater

        1. Sharp Little Pencil

          APOLOGIES from Amy for taking the bait and calling out Richard, and if any of you other poets were offended or confused, I understand and you can bring your ire to sharplittlepencil at WordPress rather than cluttering this blog with it.

          Dear Richard, There is no respect toward me reflected in the above repetitive rants. You DID plagiarize me (short memory, you should have that looked into) when you lifted two full verses of one of my poems two seasons ago, and all PAers (including Robert) know it.

          J.K. Rowling? My bad. I don’t care if she is Christian or a Wiccan; her books are a gift to the world, but my sister won’t let her kids read Harry Potter. Ironic? She’s a fundamentalist… it’s her thing.

          Whatever. Your hate speech about LGBT folks and atheists, none of whom are a threat to society in any way, rankles. You have moments of being a good poet, but then you comment and show that perhaps there’s a bit of help you may need managing your anger.

          As for the blog, the continued tolerance for Richard’s avowed hatred is a large part of the reason I’m leaving. Again, my apologies to all who were confused or angered. My calling as a Christian is to defend the “other” in our society. Gay folks have enough problems without having folks through poetic bricks at them, and I cannot ignore what smells like Nazi Germany: Picking on a minority, first through art… and let us remember history, right: Amy

  24. barbara_y

    Museum Volunteer on a Warm Black Friday Afternoon

    yawning in the Coat Check, writing…this, 
    consuming the last crumbs of stale
    snickerdoodle.
    pairs of eyes, above coatless shoulders,
    pass my alcove by, intent
    on consuming the leftovers of ancient
    Egyptians.

  25. ina

    Bonfire

    The fallen reds, golds, and bronzes,
    apparently consumed. But they
    have only grown from tree to tall
    flame, colors thrown to the wind, the
    one thin plume of smoke signaling
    they are not gone but one again.

  26. DanielAri

    (this is a dashed-off response–still stuck on the fruit prompt 😀 )

    “Range of Citrus”

    You know,
    I once ate a pomelo

    as big as my head.
    Under the peel: solid lemonade.

    It took a half hour to drink it all.
    Some individual cells were each an inch tall!

    Today my daughter found a tangerine
    with sections as small as adzuki beans.

    The whole fruit had the diameter of a quarter.
    My daughter

    gave me one section to taste.
    It was tart enough to contort my face

    around the tiny sour
    power.

  27. Gregory

    Reading these great poems and still no real artistic inspiration. Just one of those days

    ‘I AM’

    I Am
    Blank
    With a void
    That can not be ignored

    I Am
    Without Words
    To put on paper
    No ideas
    No Thought
    Stuck within the black hole
    Of writers block

    I Am
    Consumed by
    Mental darkness
    Awaiting illumination
    Lacking ammunition
    To complete this mission

    I Am
    Like a Pen
    With no ink
    Writing a dissertation
    Car without gas
    Heading to never ever land

    I Am
    Empty

  28. Buddah Moskowitz

    You Can’t Have Everything

    “Limitless movies on demand”
    “this ereader can store a million books”
    “all you can eat for one low price”
    “unlimited broadband access on your smart phone”
    “access to our 8 million song music library”

    all I can think is
    you can’t have everything,

    where would you put it?

  29. leatherdykeuk

    Price Hike

    My tea bags are delivered by a man in a van
    who brings a whole basket of goods to the door
    in the hope I’ll be tempted by chocolates or biscuits
    or a specially priced caddy full of bag of white tea.
    Only the best for our customers.

    I decline and take the usual fortnightly one-sixty
    only they’ve gone up. They only do them
    in packets of two hundred now. Will that do?
    I remain confused. Did the price just go up or not?

    One day I’ll go back to the cheap brands
    but for now I’ll drink my favourite.

  30. Domino

    If Love had a Price

    I heard of a man,
    someone’s father in law,
    who, the day after
    Christmas,
    sells every
    single
    gift
    he’s received that year.

    Every
    single
    one.

    I kind of think
    this defeats the idea
    of the holiday.

    Now, the wife’s
    childrens’
    mother’s
    money
    has gone to the
    retailer
    and the father-in-law
    gets a far-reduced price
    from some stranger
    in return for
    selling their love.

  31. debscott

    I Started This One Hobby Collecting Cracked Corn (Which is a skeleton-prose-poem structure. I’ve included the skeleton, and the original, at my blog for the curious.)

    Sparrows rarely change their feeding patterns, even when chased with claws. A squirrel, on the other tail, has hidden away insights from the oaks, which show long life can be grown by patience and by the luck of storms, passed on to them by the clouds they know. All the jays in the neighborhood try to take advantage of these truths, hidden in plain sight. The starlings will inform a listener how well they are doing according to robber barons, or investment bankers, or mannerly crows, which they espouse as learned scholars. Parroting experts gives an incentive to steal the other birds’ food. Soon, the golden corn the bird lover throws under the apple tree will be able to be shared with roving bands of coyotes, which could signal a lusty end to free trade. It might even cause the native ground squirrel into being a ward of the state.

  32. Hannah

    ~ACTUALITY~

    Bloom bursts forth
    From the refuse,
    Life emerging
    From death.
    Red rose
    Releasing beauty
    In a wasteland.
    World of uncertainty
    Purpose is found
    In relationship,
    Balance.
    Balance
    Is perceived
    In being.
    Accepting
    Not refusing
    Receiving both
    Fragrant petal,
    Thick of thorn.
    From breath ,
    To breath,
    To breath.

  33. Domino

    <strong. Links

    As a consumer
    I’ve lately become
    enchanted
    with the notion
    that the things I buy
    be made locally.

    And I know that’s
    not always
    sensible
    reasonable or
    practical
    but still.

    I went to an arts
    (and crafts) show
    hosted by a friend
    for the holiday
    season.

    I met each artist
    and viewed their work
    and bought some of
    my Christmas presents
    there.

    And now I can tell the
    recipient
    of the gifts
    this year
    the name of the person
    who made
    each
    item
    and now I can tell the
    artist
    about who each
    recipient is.

    Somehow in my mind,
    a chain is forged,
    a link is made:
    Artist~Me~Loved One
    and it makes me
    feel
    whole.

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