Today’s prompt comes from a long-time Poetic Asides poetry dude (and super nice guy), Walt Wojtanik.
Here’s Walt’s prompt (a Two-for-Tuesday prompt) which is actually two prompts:
- Write a Left Poem.
- Write a Right Poem.
Umm… With today being Election Day in the States, there are, of course, political implications to Walt’s prompt. If you go that route, please be respectful of conflicting views (it’s about the poetry, not the politics, on this blog). If you decide to go the directional route, then be respectful of people with two left feet or who are always right, especially people who are always right who happen to have two left feet.
Robert’s attempt:
“Tango”
He said he was right
and left the room. She
decided to right
a wrong and left him
alone with his right
to exit stage left.
*****
Thank you, Walt, for the direction on Day 6! Click here to learn more about Walt.
*****
Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer
*****
What’s the best resource for poets?
Funny you should ask, because I’m the editor of the 2013 Poet’s Market, which I think is a pretty impressive resource. At its core, Poet’s Market lists hundreds of publishing opportunities, including listings for book publishers, literary publications, contests, and more. But beyond that, the 2013 Poet’s Market includes 20 contemporary poems from some of today’s best poets, a list of poetic forms, instruction on the craft of poetry, advice on handling the business of poetry, and more.
Get a copy of the 2013 Poet’s Market today!
Political Animals
by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
The Donkey came first back in 1828
when Andy Jackson was running for Prez.
Labeled a “Jackass” for his populist views,
he turned that into quite the campaign tool
convincing the Demos the Ass humble,
courageous, resourceful, and loyal.
The elephant came later in 1864
first as a fluke in some Lincoln campaign lit,
then again ten years later in a political cartoon
when an Ass dressed in lion skins intimidated
a menagerie of zoo critters, save for an intelligent
Pachyderm who remained strong, steady, and true.
Democrat or Republican, which are you?
© 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
I’m still playing catch up with the chapbook challenge:
Poem #1: I know my Rights!
I have to be right all of the time
even when I know I’m wrong
even when I know I’m lost the battle
to get my point across.
Even when I’ve beat you over the head
with my point
to view
my way
through my eyes
through my
somewhat squewed
perspective
I have to be right all of the time
because if I don’t
think I’m right
Who will?
Poem #2: GPS Haiku
What if I turn left?
Who will help me go right?
Find Your Directions
c) Kellea Tibbs and march thirty one, 2012. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of original march thirty one material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
SOMETIMES THE RIGHT THING
(IS THE ONLY THING LEFT)
(c) 2012 – G. Smith (BMI)
——————————————————-
She was right,
When she left me,
At the end of the bar;
And there was nothing,
Left to say,
To make things right.
I was close,
To the edge,
Then I went one step too far,
Now it looks,
Like I’ll be all,
Alone tonight.
And sometimes the right thing,
Is the only thing left;
After everything else,
It may be hard, but it’s best.
Two sides to one coin,
They both come up heads;
And sometimes the right thing,
Is the only thing left.
I found my heart,
Where I’d lost it,
In the palm of her hand;
And there was nothing,
I could do
To make her see,
It was hers,
And so am I
And I would kneel to make my stand.
I’d take it all back,
And give up everything,
If she would still love me.
And sometimes the right thing,
Is the only thing left;
After everything else,
It may be hard, but it’s best.
Two sides to one coin,
They both come up heads;
And sometimes the right things
Is the only thing left.
Most times the right thing
Is the only thing left.
Left Brain vs. Right Brain in the Bedroom
Let’s decorate with yellow butterflies
And purple snapdragons
And lace and a glittery mobile,
That will hang from the ceiling.
The room is 10 x 10
And has one 3 x 4 window,
A 6-foot mirrored closet
And one entry door.
It would look beautiful
If I made a hand-quilted cover
And matching curtains
With indigo and orange cottons.
Buy one gallon
Of flat paint,
One quart of semi-gloss,
And a plastic drop cloth.
I’ll make a stained-glass window
With peacocks and a deer
And the morning sun will sparkle through,
Splashing color everywhere.
Mask the window, the light fixture,
The door handle and the switches.
Get the ladder and the rollers
And the gloves and the rags.
We could stay in bed and laugh,
Drinking coffee like we used to,
Snuggling under the blanket
And tickling each other’s feet.
Now, put everything away and
Wash out all the brushes.
Peel back the masking tape
And move the furniture in.
Right Living
At an early age
I was taught
Right from wrong.
Granny always said,
“If you live right
And behave right
Your life will turn out right.”
Doing the right thing
Is very important to me.
I try to have
The right conduct every day.
Even though
I have the right to say
What I please
I make sure the right answer
Is said in the right place
At the right time
That is the only way to live right.
Left
I have been
Abandoned,
Forsaken,
Deserted,
Ignored.
But,
There is one thing
I have not been
LEFT handed.
Coming in
wind throws
for a perfect
waves asunder
landing
near the ancient falls
bound in
feathers and bone
clouds of a storm
ducks call
a cry
of a seasonal fall
the inevitable cold
as willows sway
a sun
to and fro
makes love
on a bare floor
infamy
shooting stars
tell nothing
never know
or all
which direction
and forgivingly
to fall
the hour tolls
author replies doesn’t make as much sense because
every other line is suppose to be over 30 spaces (left to right)
but when copied out of word didn’t carry over–any ideas
how to fix?
ELECTION NIGHT
When we looked at puppies, you said she
was the right one. I was undecided.
So we loaded her in our little Honda
beside the old dog grumbling. Old dogs
have no vote. On the drive home,
we got lost – an omen? We took a right,
which was wrong: up endless grassy hills.
When we stopped for the dogs,
the puppy was wild to see a whole new
world. We crested a ridge, too far south,
and learned a new route home.
Months later, you’re watching the returns
on TV, puppy’s head on your lap.
At her feet, the old dog grumbles in sleep.
She keeps us all running. Was she the right
choice? It’s become a whole new world.
Red’s Lament
The Left
is out in left field.
They’ve left behind
all reason, those bleeding hearts.
I will pay them no compliments,
not even a left-handed one.
I don’t even trust southpaws.
You know “sinister” is Latin for
“left-handed”, don’t you?
When they’re done with our country,
what will be left?
Blue’s Ballyhoo
The Right
just aren’t thinking right.
What gives them the right
to leave the poor behind?
They think everything’s all right
as long as they’ve got theirs.
In Latin, “right-handed” is “dexter”,
like the serial killer on TV.
You think they’ll kill our country
with greed and selfishness?
You got that right.
Purple’s Plea
We’re in the middle
of all this fuss.
Let’s get over ourselves,
find our center, and breathe.
Compromise is not a dirty word.
Here in the middle of the road
there are no ruts.
Red and blue together
make such a beautiful color.
If we’re even-handed, we’ll be great again,
the center of our universe.
[If you want to see the appropriately "justified" versions (because I couldn't figure out how to do that here) please visit my blog at bniedt.blogspot.com.]
Had a lot of fun with this prompt. Used this to sort of explain how my blog got its name (Write Wing Conspiracy.)
Write, Not Right
For more than a decade
Pundits have spoken
Of the great right wing conspiracy,
Those evil capitalists
Lurking in the shadows
Seeking to seize power
Regardless of the cost,
Heartless bastards
Fueled by greed,
Willing to sacrifice
Anyone weaker
To better shape the world
According to their insidious schemes.
I speak of a different quest,
My write wing conspiracy:
A mission to illustrate my vision
Of triumph and disappointment
Both at a personal level
And also on a grander scale.
Words hold power,
And one poem at a time
Every poet possesses
The power
To change the world.
She
is a lefty,
depises leftovers,
was left by her dad,
has a right handed mother,
who is a right brain tenant,
and is her right maternal match.
A daily timetable keeps record of their rightful land.
““
Two Left Feet
Stumble across a starlit
ground; cocoon falls
from a tree; zebra long-winged
butterfly unbuttons its old coat,
emerges, flits here and there
with a slightly bent right wing.
Letsee…yogurt, raspberries, cereal: that means one
thousand fifty three calories left. Breakfast done.Now,
lunch: cheeseburger, chocolate milkshake…….I make
myself laugh! –SALAD. That means six hundred
seventy five calories left. Not too bad, I can do this.
Soooo long till dinner, but my salad has run out—
cheese stick, eighty calories, so, five hundred
ninety five left. WHY DIDN’T I GO TO THE
GYM? And then dinner….letsee….tacos
tonight at three hundred calories
a piece times two is too much.
That can’t be right! One taco?
Ahhh! One taco leaves two
ninety five, so I’ve left off
the sour cream—zero
calories left, this better
be worth it! What? i
look thinner? Oh,
I just watch what
I eat, but who’s
counting…..
Love the humor but also find
form of poem excellent–follows
how many calories left besides
being right to left!
No Reason
There was no
reasoning with him.
(She’d tried.) Arguing?
Not an option; and
perspective carried no
weight. What if…
your perfectly poised world
were to tilt abruptly
on its axis? What if…
you were suddenly
sitting on the moon, or
situated in the center of the sky –
middle of the milky way – maybe
sailing over Sagittarius
(arrow aimed at heart of Scorpius)
or exiled to (used-to-be a
planet) Pluto?
Mightn’t
your absolute answer be
(just a little?)
wrong?
Never. No way. Not possible.
He wouldn’t concede,
couldn’t conceive;
was absolutely certain
he was always, Always,
ALWAYS right;
so she left
Ballroom Dance
Ready…and…five, six, seven, eight!
Grapevine right. Kick-ball-change. Turn. Wait.
Time step…and then slide left. Advance.
It’s politics. Come on – let’s dance.
Never mind the grumbled cavil.
Tap…tap…tap. And then let’s travel.
And chassé. Leaping Lords now prance.
It’s politics. Come on – let’s dance.
Pasa Doble or a Foxtrot.
November party’s food for thought.
So swing your partner. Take a chance.
It’s politics. Come on – let’s dance.
Make flourishes in red and blue
while talking heads toe Ol’ Soft Shoe.
This tango won’t lose its romance.
It’s politics. Come on – let’s dance.
###
the path chooses not
its own course of direction
to step left or right
“One Left Missing”
Inside a circle going ‘round
I run away then back to you
No left or right, up or down
You make it difficult to choose
Let’s not wave this flag at half mast
I think we can see this through
If we left it all in the past
Staying seems the right thing to do
Fractured moments in your eyes
Tell me your heart’s wearing thin
Let’s do this right, no more lies
It’s not time for us to give in
You were right when we started
When I left and since departed
On one palm, the reading
is the story you were destined for.
On the other, how you’ve edited that
birthright with your dominant hand.
Do bits of leftover potential drift
to the ground like pared nails.
Does your left sole collect abstractions:
honor, pride, patience.
Does the right remember when you cut your hair
with round-tipped scissors? Does it wonder
about that boy–what was his name?
Nov 6 Left/Right
He left because he thought he was right
She started to write because he left
Each page she wrote, was penned with her right
Each page began, with explicits on the left
When ink caressed paper, it felt so right
Still her heart was empty, her love had left
Her love returned, to make all things right
Love blossomed brighter than before he left
Careful which side you choose, be it left or right
Everything that seems wrong may be all that’s left
A GREAT prompt, but I’m out of words and energy. So far this month, it’s like my muse has packed up and left the premises.
I was going to read, but got engrossed in the election coverage.
Whine, whine, whine … ; Good night, all.
My muse left the building this month too.
Didn’t you mention that you’re doing both Nano and the PAD? I did that last year and completed both. But this time… I love your poetry and look forward to your muse reappearing…sometime soon?
Some folks just want to lose it
I have a small lump behind my left ear
It grew overnight; a tumor, I fear
Wherever it came from is simply not clear
I pray it’s just fat
Happening right now…
I’m latin, petite, and brown in complexion
I can’t shake the frown off my facial expression
I sense a heart attack coming in my direction
I can’t take any more of this doggone election
A Bill of Rights
Just because it’s not wrong
Doesn’t mean it’s right
Or so the saying goes…
It could be, but it’s not certain
More a theory than proven
Like the old adage about
The two wrongs?
Another mathematical equation
That’s never been tested
Satisfactorily in a lab
and,
Left of Centre
Who decided that left is diabolical?
In many countries and languages
The word itself is represented
By words meaning evil or devil
Italian? sinistra; Portuguese?
Cantoto – a popular word for devil
But why? It’s just one side,
A direction really … who decided
It was any worse than right?
Left and right was a challenging prompt, but only one thing occurred to me, perhaps because of my recent reading. You can find my poem here: http://hopefuljo.wordpress.com/2012/11/06/365-creativity-project-day-302/
I wish it were easier to post here. I always get a message that I am posting comments too fast. It makes it very difficult.
Sorry for the duplicate posting.
“Muddled Brain”
Forced to use the right since parents
were righties. Locked
outside of the
box, places where
one does not go
naturally. Bad handwriting,
rational thought,
symptoms of a
muddled brain not
in its right mind.
Imagine the compositions -
symphonies, or
novels – never
spawned, because the
left was not right.
Left and right was a challenging prompt, but only one thing occurred to me, perhaps because of my recent reading. You can find my poem here: http://hopefuljo.wordpress.com/2012/11/06/365-creativity-project-day-302/
I wish it were easier to post here. I always get a message that I am posting comments too fast.
Leftovers
What’s left?
Food for a second meal
Shelves filled with books
Closets filled with clothes
Boxes filled with memories, and
silence.
Right Turn
The right road isn’t
paved with perfection.
It bends and dips and
sometimes closes for repairs.
Detours take us out of our way,
but eventually bring us back
to our path of choice, both
weary and wiser.
WHAT SHE LEFT
Serenity of forest-green velvet
lines the box, with one mute bloom,
once crimson, crumbling dust.
Journal entries in a careful cursive
hinting at unnamed guilts of omission,
those lesser-known corners
of conscience. Besides this, a plain
cardboard box with a trail of journeys
via ambiguous unsent picture
postcards, the only trace of places
she traveled perhaps in her mind.
Winter air breeze
Starbucks hot chocolate is best
How I image out life together since you left
Leaving Isn’t Always Right
You thought you were right
So you left
Feelings remained
They left you not
To make it right you reached out
But only found that I had left
Election Day: A Cautionary Rhyme
Right or wrong,
Opinions are strong,
And venomous, oftentimes.
Do your research
Or stay in the lurch
Of performing ignorant crimes.
You’re on the brink;
Just stop and think:
It’s true your decision matters.
Be careful, my friends,
Before it all ends,
And common sense finally shatters.
Two for a Tuesday
Why?
Have been left
swirling right in
the center of
the vissitudes of
the majesty and
malice Mother Nature
in the span one
crashing week
where water broke
and an infant
appeared miraculously
as days later the sea
rose and turned homes
to tinder
Too Soon Gone
Just to the left of love and longing,
that’s where you’ll find
the path to the rainbow bridge,
and, if you cross over,
cast an oblique glance to your right,
you might catch a glimpse of
kitty heaven.
I’ve been given that direction
in a dream,
perhaps better than any map,
though I have yet to spy our Roxie,
who left us all too soon.
I plan to keep looking,
accepting sadness for little while,
holding fast to hope.
“Blaaaaarrrrgggh!”
Advertise your fright!
We have! Nationtheft!
Proxy fight! Uptight
DEMandate bereft!
REProbate flea fight!
Left. Left. Left, right, left!
Leave! Leave! Leave, fright, leave!
Heaving over heft—
bone-dragged and bereaved—
half by a long sight!
Aftermath pre-believed:
Lord of the French fries!
Devious deceived
plates of pork fried rice!
Fractured father cleft!
Yesterday we grieved!
Tomorrow—to live!
Let’s Meet in the Middle
It’s not a time to question
or a time to fight
it’s not about being
on the left or on the right
Let’s not forget the meaning
of the “U” in USA
about being united
and not so far divided
It’s not about finger pointing
or calling each other names
about the hate and lies
and those silly political games
It’s about getting a job done
the best that one can
about us all working together
and following the master plan
Despite the fact
that you might be
on the right or on the left
or somewhere in between
Despite your view
for the one or the other
let’s meet in the middle
let’s support one another.
crescent moon
tings I thought
I’d left behind
Poetic Asides November Challenge – Day 6
Write a left poem
Write a right poem
Right around the bend
an even keel
awaits you.
Be daring, choose the left path,
sail seas, tell tall tales.
————————–
I come from a family
of lefties. I am
the only righty.
Good thing your writing
preference does not determine
your political views.
Day 6
Prompt: Left poem or right poem
Left Right
To write
is right.
To be left
is to be bereft.
So I feather these keys and pray
you never leave.
Life is about options
But I’ve been faced with an easy yet complex option
To my right
My dearly beloved mother
Who is to me unlike another
And to my left
My father
Who has been always the toughest soldier
How can one decide
When they’re in a courthouse being given a ride
How does one choose
And choose to abuse
The other
His mother
His father
The truth be told
What I would do to have time on hold
To go back to the moments when they were together
When they held me high in the sky and shouted forever
I was too young to know this
But never were they lovers
I was the only thing piecing them together
Like a shoe’s leather
But I love them both
So the question goes one last time
To the left or to the right
One last rhyme
To end the fight
“Left of Right”
Taking what’s left:
On one hand
seems unselfish, frugal
allowing creativity to compensate.
On the other hand,
it feels like settling, second-best sighs,
earning the consolation prize.
Doing what’s right:
On one hand
reassures our worth,
fueling good karma’s return.
On the other hand,
right is according to whose eye;
even if it feels a lie?
There’s always two sides to every hand.
So, gratefully take what’s left
and earnestly do what’s right.
For, within each life’s great hourglass
there’s only so much sand.
The Right to Left
I had the right
To answer the challenges
To post my every thought
But it took over 5 minutes
Just to load the page
So I left!
11-06-12
4:08 pm
We were in the front seat
of our ’76 Chevy pick-up
with the horn that blew
when we took a left turn over 15 mph.
We would have to drive another 12
city blocks
before the right turn righted the horn.
She told me she always liked being on my right.
She said my hand was softer,
she said that if I had
a sword I would be the perfect knight
shrouded in a chain maille mystery
and compounded by the
nights I would leave myself
left out in the pale moonlight.
She was right there
when she said she would
rather leave
than be right all the time.
Which, I suppose,
is better to be honest that way
than to be the one left out.
I can’t blame her.
I can’t be left out anywhere.
Giving Me Pause
I don’t know why
after all these years,
I need to pause
and oil the gears.
I need to think
and not be quick,
which way is left
now don’t be thick.
It is the same
for going right,
I have to pause
try as I might.
I don’t know why
I need a hand,
a visual clue
perhaps I’ll stand.
Please don’t rush me
for if you do,
I’ll go the wrong way
and you’ll be late too.
Being Tricky
When I was little, I learned if you are right-handed, you wear your watch on your right wrist. I took this to heart. ALL right-handed people wear their watch on their right wrist. Not me. I decided this would be an excellent way to fool any government secret agent into thinking I was left-handed. I know exactly why I thought I would be in a situation where this was extremely important. I am a product of watching too many spy/cop shows in my youth. I must confess, I still wear my watch on my left wrist and I’m still right-handed.
Protection
Left and right,
holding up a crystal platter
of cream puffs, maybe,
or porcelain angels, their wings
already chipped from
a bumpy ride in the back
of a rattling panel van.
Left and right,
holding up a fragile realm
like that, keeping broken things
mostly stable, lest anything
break further, though everything
breaks at least a little in this
unpadded world.
Left Feet (An Acrostic)
Losing what little balance I had,
Embarrassingly enough I trip on my
Feet, of all things, and stumble on,
To fall a few bumbling steps later.
Fear of repeating the incident
Everlastingly keeps me aware,
Each and every day, of these
Two left feet I blessedly possess.
Good one, Walt. Two here.
Validation
She listens with her head
nodding on her neck—
“right, right, right”
she says, meaning
I hear you, go on.
He seeks her out
to recite his daily
complaints, joys,
triumphs, losses,
always feeling
right right right
yes yes yes
when all he has
left
is no.
She just
rights him.
L is for Loser
The left hand
makes the right
letter, capital
L, for Loser,
while the
right one is
backward,
mirror,
wrong.
So the left
is right and
the right is…
confusing
for a little boy
examining
his hands
in doubt.
Right?
BONE DANCE (a tritina)
We live in a house with a pair of dogs
and (last count) 17 butcher-shop bones.
Musical chairs, choose partners, name your dance –
old dog gnaws his bone, puppy starts a dance
of right & left paws, a cotillion of dogs –
no, only one pup who’s got all the bones
Surely it isn’t a question of bones,
but pride of possession; who leads the dance;
who’s right, who’s left in this sashay of dogs.
Could these dogs just put down their bones and dance?
I left her on the lake
For the wolves to take
She was old
It was her time
When it’s my turn
To unburden the tribe
I hope I make
The right choice
too
This is my favorite use of the prompt.
Good prompt! I feel like I just barely scratched the surface. I hope to play around with it some more later.
Being Right
She left a note saying
he was right, she was better
off without him. She left
out the important parts, how
much she loved him, how
she would never smile again, how
she would think about him every day
into forever. All of that didn’t matter,
she had to do what was right, let him go
to the left while she went
right. Years later, they discovered they
both should have gone right.
I decided that because I needed to catch-up I’d employ some haiku…maybe a, “chapku,” book from me for this November!!
’s
http://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2012/11/06/day-six-two-for-tuesdayleft-and-right-two-haiku/
Ah, the Paicopulos Initiative? A great maneuver from one of our strong voices! It may serve you well!
Yes, I was remembering our Daniel had taken this approach last year and with a theme too, I think….Was it love? I’m not sure now but some forced brevity just may be the medicine needed. Thanks a bunch, Walt…warm smiles to you always!
Dyslateral
Never really could tell which way people meant.
Understood the concept, that was all good, but
which foot to kick the ball with, which way to turn
at the second light, which column in the paper, not
ever gonna get it. Do you mean from your side
looking at me, or from my side looking at you?
I could tell you if you really meant vocation or
avocation and when to use whom instead of who,
could determine by smell if there was enough salt
in the sauce, could choose the exact shade of green
to set off your eyes, but there was only a fifty-fifty
chance I would pull the lever you wanted me to.
My sister was fine with it, would give me driving
directions saying “my way” or “your way” to guide
me. Now you’re trying to get me to a place I’ve
never been, and I’m looking at the road, but discreetly
rubbing my middle fingers, feeling for the callous I
got on my writing hand, back before we had computers.
So many lefts, so many rights, how does one choose direction?
Full Circle
The world is encompassed
Between my left and my right,
A dream of the mind folded
Tight around a germ of intention;
Seldom breathed a secret desire
For creative flurries made manifest
From hands skilled in light touches.
RUNAWAY
You make wrong
so right
set my mind in flight
like, all in left field
Would it be wrong
if I were to yield,
if I ran off and left
with you
You make right
so wrong,
all turned on,
all along…
I know this is just
one of those adolescent
phases,
simply hormones
Would it be right
if I up and left,
ran away…
with you
Left Out of the Election
I left
my voter card
right on the car roof.
Now, left or right leaning, I’m just
left out.
Thanks, Walt! I found this challenge to be one of the toughest, but really enjoyed.
“As of Yet Untitled”
Their elders, held in high esteem, but aging took its toll,
The demands of a nomadic life wore hard upon a soul,
Infirmities we call setbacks, to them were so much more,
While living off the land the way their elders did before.
No life extending medicine, no endoscopic powers,
Stent the vein, prevent the pain and buy the man some flowers.
Their DNA not analyzed for flaws on every rung,
No iron horse to carry them to brand new iron lungs.
My legs no longer carry me. I know my time is near,
And so my dear Sioux children, I pray you leave me here,
The noble elder left behind, alone and out of sight.
But nowadays in many ways, it’s hard to know what’s right.
###
aaah left or right to post or not
Left to decide what to keep
Echoes of
Family
Torn by lost memories
Reaching for stuff,
Recalling humor
I hold photos
Gather the past to
Hold
today
The teller
filled out
my withdrawal
slip writing
as I do
left-handed
and upside down
I asked her about
the inevitable bump
on her middle
finger and
whether she was
an artist. She
said she drew
but wasn’t
great and I
admitted to being
no Leonardo. Then
I took my money
and she said
she had never met
another person
who wrote like
her, and that
remains true
of us both.
Left or Right?!
at times I wonder
if left was the right way to go
or if destiny will show
the paths I am left to take
will be the right ways to go
OF FREEDOM
Today I pick the pencil
not to write a poem
and not
to write my name
but to enter my choice
on a sheet of paper
which goes along with yours
in this immense people’s voice
confirming our future
in this place where we belong.
No Sides
Looking into the
infinite blackness,
one cannot tell
which side of the sky
has more stars.
Standing on the beach
dwarfed by the waves,
it is impossible to tell
which side of the sea
is more friendly.
Listening to the sobs
of a mourning mother,
no one knows
which side of her heart
is torn away.
Meditating on
The One Who is All,
I know that when
all is finally
put right,
none will be
left out.
Oh, wow, Mosk. This is awesome. Charming and thoughtful and just good writing.
Whatever’s left (a chant poem)
Political ranting late
into the night
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
That little hurting need
to ease
another’s pain
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
To be alone, independent
unashamed
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
Mother, father of your clan-
your family’s name
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
The 3 year old’s invective
“can do myself”
ringing in your ears
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
Do unto others
before they would do/
or as you would do
an unanswered question
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
In the dark
groping
your first time
feels
so
good
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
The song in you playing
for you
and you alone
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
The song that came
and went
always
leaving
you
wanting more
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
Her hand in yours
the laying on of tears
her cheek, her chest
the low slow breathing
shortening
faltering
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
Your own pumping
breathing
in, out
going on and on
never
stopping
always
waking to find
whatever’s left
is right
What is left?
Left alone and left behind
Left sitting on the shelf
Left to make up my own mind
Left to learn to be myself.
Left to lie in my narrow bed
While the busy world goes passing by
Left alone to use my head
To learn to reason and not to cry.
Left to try to get it straight
My world is gone and everything is new
Time does not pause or even wait
Things move too fast, what can I do?
.
You’re doing it. <3 Keep writing, keep going, keep trying.
Write
Write right
Write left
Write what you think is right
Write as a compulsion
Write for your freedom
Write to right division
Write for unity
Write for peace
Write for truth
Write for release
Bottom line of freedom
Is we CAN write
You have the right to read (or not read) what I left, here:
http://whimsygizmo.wordpress.com/2012/11/06/you-have-the-right/
This was very nice you should exercise yur rights to view it
I made my choice. I used my words. ^_^
What of Society Remains
Seeking the means
for efficiency for surplus,
yields faceless decision makers,
price takers and actors
choking on rationality,
separated into factors and inputs
of production
of consumption
and stacked,
one after the other,
arms outstretched
higher than can be seen
or gained, or understood.
What of society remains
when the pursuit of technique
leaves the people
bereft of humanity?
Nothing is left
when the last man
forfeits light for pleasure.
Nothing is right
when reason falls
to unbridled desire.
Happiness yields to efficiency
and progress stalls.
Contenders
The boxers enter the ring,
One in red trunks,
one in blue.
They circle, feeling each other out.
One lunges forward swings with
a right,
a left,
a right.
The other blocks, and swings;
left
right
left.
They retreat,
close,
retreat.
The crowd howls with
imprecations.
“He’s dishonest!”
“He’s no good!”
The crowd battles
among themselves,
barely noticing the
contenders
until one of them makes a mistake.
“He’s wrong for our side!”
“Well, yours is worse!!”
And the battle continues
with
a left
a right
a left.
“The referee is useless!”
“The referee favors your side!!”
And the battle rages on,
for months, it seems,
years,
until election day.
And then, when the battle is over
and the victor determined,
the crowd will leave the stadium,
half victorious,
half disappointed,
but both factions have
at least one thing in common.
Both must live with the result.
Right
left
right.
It really makes no difference
in the end.
Diana Terrill Clark
Bingo!
Thanks. ^_^
GET RIGHT BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED FROM
The band has re-assembled, and it’s the right
time, and the write time to perpetrate poetry.
Here, where the spirit first moved some of us to that end,
the dissection of words and rhyme have filled our time
and when we’re finished, what’s left
will be emotive, evocative, expressive and fine.
Here, where the line in the sand is as fine
as the poets who amass here, and it is right
that we come back together despite our quirks, left-
over muses used to touch hearts and soothe souls. Poetry
becomes the magnet that draws our mettle, and this time
as always, we pen without end.
Twisted rhymes and mangled meter that we bend
to placate our peculiarities of poetic license; the levied fine
is never excessive as long as we stay expressive each time.
For we write, whether wrong or right
and fight for the cause of poetry
making sure that no thought is left
behind. It is the mantle that has been left
to us; the banner that has been given to us. The end
justifies the course we take in the production of our poetry.
No matter the form, or meter, or rhyme, we are fine
with our choices, we are voices to be heard; a chorus right
for our ears. We will have our say over time.
Many of the poet wanderers come back in time.
However, we will miss the friends that have left
for reasons we respect and understand; it was their right.
They are no less talented or poetic friends,
for their worded wonder remains true and good and fine.
They are minstrels all, with the lyrical rhymes of their poetry.
Here, back where we started to hone these skills poetic,
writing until it is our time
to pass that grail to hands less frail and refined.
Our words will linger long after we’ve left
this poetic plane, remembered until the end
because what we’ve written will be held up as a beacon bright.
It is right that we return again to write poetry,
verse that will stand until the end of time.
Left for the eyes of future generations; our work will be fine.
Walt, you always leave me thinking,’Man, I wish I’d thought that!’
Haunting in the melody
left to me since
you went away.
Softly it slips into my dreams.
NIIAN (20-24 syllables, 4 lines)
So many delightful, fun, sharp poems today.
I voted early, so I’m free to think more heavenly bodied thoughts today.
http://whimsygizmo.wordpress.com/2012/11/06/just-left-of-mars/
(a twofer two-in-one)
Loaves and Fishes, the Left-overs
What if a guy comes home–he’s been out,
the whole block knows, looking for work–
and he’s weighted down with fish sandwiches
(around here, those would be fried and dripping
grease. Whiting, bony and sweet fleshed, dredged
in corn meal with just flour enough to make it hang;
and pepper to wake up your mouth; salt for satisfaction,
and some pickles like a slap on the tongue. And
mustard. The bread would be white sponge
from the day-old store, just there to keep hold
of that rich hot pickle mustard fat) and his wife
has already started supper, bought and paid for, maybe
pork chops or tamale pie.
She’s going to ask him
about that fish.
Where’d all that come from. And what’s he doing with it.
What’s he going to tell her? That he worked all fucking day
at some fool’s political picnic and got paid off in left
over fish sandwich? Or just say he thought he’d pick up dinner
and surprise her and let her think he can’t do anything right.
The Choice
One choice on the left
and one on the right
We’re always stuck
in the middle!
But It’s election day
so what do you say
there’s no time
left to piddle.
What makes it so hard
to fill out the card
-first we must solve
this small riddle:
The candidate’s stands
flip hand to hand
like pancakes hot
off the griddle.
Which man will we pick?
Which Romney will stick,
if the vote count
his way settles?
~ with apologies to my friends on the Right
LOST AND FOUND
(a shadorma)
Where oh where
did I put my keys?
I’ve searched high,
I’ve searched low.
Honestly, where’d they go? Oh…
right where I left them.
AN ALTAR’d STATE
(a shadorma)
Alone I
stand, looking right, left;
and wonder
what happened.
How could I have been so wrong
about Mister Right?
When The Dust Settles
By: Meena Rose
When all that is left
Is but a husk – empty and hollow,
Consumed by ashes of memories now gone,
Releasing echoes of a life lived in full,
Yearning for a wraith’s last lingering kiss,
Step right in to
Fill a void overwhelmed in sorrow,
Breathe new life into the hollowed bone,
Embrace a soul with the touch of soft wool,
Gently reminisce and pull the heart out of the abyss.
Philippe Petit
It was illegal
But he had do to it
He was born to
He alone was able
No one else could do it
There was no why
They snuck up
Strung a rope to the other tower
Using a bow and arrow
That August morning
People stared up, eyes wide
Mouths agape
The trick
Not to go the right or left
And he did it
But he was arrested
Police report simply said
Man on wire
His punishment
To perform for children
Then he was free
Right From the Start
She looked up as he
entered the kitchen,
-What happened to your chin?
Puzzled, he lifted his
right hand to his chin.
He didn’t know there
was anything wrong with it.
-No, a little more, just
left of center.
Now more puzzled than ever,
-Oh, that was an ice hockey
game when I was twelve.
You mean we have
been together for fourteen
years and you never noticed?
-Your eyes bewitched me
when we first met
and you have yet to break
the spell, for that would surely
break my heart.
She stood up, wrapped her
arms around his neck and
kissed the scar.
-Just one more place to
love you.
Ellen Knight
Left/Right
It was my choice to make,
I thought, as I stood adrift
in an ocean of options,
none of which really gave
me what I wanted. Was it
my choice to pick what
would make me happy?
Somewhere, I missed the
memo, if that was the point.
It wasn’t even so much
having two directions, not
any longer—not like two
easy choices, either this
way or that way, but more
like having all the micro-
directions in a compass
that’s way too thorough
for its own good, like
having north-north-north-
west and south-south-east
and all those choices that
probably don’t really exist
but for the efforts of people
who got bored with having
two options and decided
to give themselves more. I
wish now that I had stayed
where I was supposed to.
Do not turn to the right or
the left; keep your foot from
evil. (Prov. 4:27 NIV)
When the poets left town
Whatever I try, it’s the same song:
You are posting comments too quickly. Slow down.
It’s got me convinced that I’m in the wrong,
whatever I try, it’s the same song.
But surely this faceless technology’s wrong?
Soon there will be few poets left in this shell of a town.
Whatever I try, it’s the same song:
You are posting comments too quickly. Slow down.
Right Where We Left Off
Through many lifetimes
we have traveled
Each journey
is different
but one thing
is constant
throughout
and that is
You and I
laugh
love
live
as one
Thanks for the prompt Walt – be back later to read, poem and post.
Looking forward to it, Pearl.
…a little fun with left and right:)
In this left-foot-right-foot journey
We are left with one certainty
The consequences of our action
And whatever that might be
Of wrong or right
***
You left because it was right
***
I write with my left hand
And eat with my right
Thereby to appease
Both appetites
***
Left side or right
I do not care
Oh my darling, as long
As I know you are there
***
Some things are better left alone
Right where they are
***
Right after the words left my lips
I wished they hadn’t
***
Oh God, You remain right where you are
Yet it seems you are not there
Is it I then, that has left?
***
The left-overs
Are right under
Your nose
***
Sweetheart, we have this left
In love’s pleasure and pain
The right to keep trying
Again and again
***
Right now
I left…
Left to Right
They say left handed people, are in their right mind.
That Democrats are left wing Republicans the right.
I’m something of an oddity, I really must confess
I’m kind of in the middle, kind of, more or less.
You see I write with my left hand, and throw with my right
But left handed scissors won’t work right for me.
I’m politically neutral I see good on both sides.
I suppose, if I could, I’d vote for both guys.
What’s left to say? I rightly don’t know
There’s puns left I’m sure But right now I’m toast.
Between poems and NaNo I’m losing my credit,
Left with no choice But to write without edit.
I wrote this in two columns, which added to the left / right theme. However when it posted it mashed it together. Oh well. Great theme though!
Anonymous
Don’t let the right hand know what the left is doing
The Bible gives us this example for giving
If I keep to myself the abundance of a gift
Or recipient of this unknown treasure
The reward comes from above not accolades of man
Give, and it will be given unto you
This verse came to my thoughts as well! Thank-you for this beautiful gem of wisdom and humility!
Right or Left
Turn your head to the right.
Feels a tad bit strange.
Have a little drink of cherry kool-aid.
Dream a pleasant dream of lasting change.
Turn your head to the left
and fake a little cough.
Grab your ankles if you please.
Stop this ride or else fall off.
By Michael Grove
“Cherry Kool-aid” – I love it, I really do
She was right
so I left
my many demons
fighting
amongst themselves
violent outbursts
with words
hurtful
caused pain
and sorrow
drowning
in the bottom
of this bottle
I can see clearly
though blurred
vision
sorrow
too late
much too late
I stayed away
for awhile
but in spite
of myself
and her
I returned
to do harm
was not my
intent
yet
here I sit
with blood on my
hands
an on my
soul
will I go to hell
or live
forever
with her last words
ringing
in my ears
please God no
LEFT, LEFT, WRITE, RIGHT
LAST RIGHTS
He left this life
bereft of joy,
left these muzzled, puzzled bones
behind, and took flight
right into
a heavenly light.
LEFT ALONE TO WRITE
All that was left was to write,
so there he sat,
through the short
bells of the clock,
in a bid to write
himself
a happy ending.
I can so feel this one !
reminded me of one of my old poems ..
This Left-foot-right-foot Journey…
We are not so different
Whether fearful or brave
Life is a left-foot-right-foot journey
From the cradle to the grave
No matter where on earth we be
Whether master or slave
Life is a left-foot-right-foot journey
From the cradle to the grave
Humanity has much in common
Not measured by the things we have
But by this left-foot-right-foot journey
From the cradle to the grave
We are fellow-travelers
So let’s share what mercy gave
In our left-foot-right-foot journey
From the cradle to the grave
…for we are not so different
In this path of life we brave
On a left-foot-right-foot journey
From the cradle to the grave
© Janet Martin
Decisions
I do not know my left from right
so who is your man today
who is the one to the winning post
i know who is my favourite to stand
I do not live within the land
that holds this all so dear
i only watch from afar
to hear the clues of despair
People have their voice
the paper they will mark
even after all the talking is done
the running wills will spark
Let the one who is to be there
do the job come what may
make sure you use your vote so well
on this presidential voting day
Its your right to have your say
which road to take
left or right
only you can come to that conclusion
its your given right
very wise said
Left
Yelling hello into the house
that seemed so empty without her—
not even her walls of books
absorbed the echo—
he pinballed around from room
to room, first waiting
then looking for clue.
No ransom note.
No Dear John letter.
No emptied drawers.
No I’ll be right home phone calls.
No clues to tell him why
she’d left.
Right
I can see him now,
wandering through the house,
poking through the pantry
for a snack while he waits
for me to come home.
But I’m not coming home.
He’s probably saved them up all day,
little things he’ll tell me,
niggling complaints–
About his boss.
About his colleagues.
About the idiots all around him
on his drive to and from the office.
About the waitress who got his order wrong.
Tonight he’ll sit alone,
since I won’t be there
to nod my head as if to say
he’s right. He’s always right.
Right The Ship
Don’t rock the boat (baby)
they always say
but freewill for us
is the only way
We left their shores
so long ago
to begin a new life
with family in tow
The right to live
the right to speak
the right to worship
defend the weak
I served so you
could freely live
so cast that vote
“but one to give”
Let’s not get all
politically correct
does it really matter
which one we elect
The promises they make
to get your vote
are only words
so let me quote
The greatest band ever
despite his voice
“If you choose not to decide
you still have made a choice.”
Left.
Forgotten.
There it lies.
in a corner.
words piled together
awaiting a spark,
to rub in with each other,
and fireworks to start.
lines of dreamy thoughts
lie on the naked sheet
like marks of his kisses
left for her fingers to feel.
Left
Lost
the poem lies.
Can she let go ?
Thanks for the prompt, Walt. Very timely!
Let’s look at this thing in a balanced manner:
yes, it is your right to vote for whoever you choose
but, when you discard the incompetent,the scoundrels,
the deluded and the monstrous egos, who is left?
great question viv !
THE LATERALIZATION OF BRAIN FUNCTION
Right brain vs. left brain.
The division is well defined,
in the opposing functions of our mind.
The right brained seem expressive; creative,
displays emotion, a music devotion,
color and images come to the fore,
and intuitive like nothing before.
This is the left brain, in the final analysis,
logic and language are this sides’ emphasis,
Numbers come easy (eh, go figure).
Reasoning makes sense whence
done with the left side. But I beg
to differ (I’ll state it with pride)
that poets seem to join the two,
they think with one mind
and when they’re through
they’ve created a part from
their head and heart that
is expressive and full of emotion,
sings like music, and paints
an intuitive picture with their words
as their medium. The tedium comes
when revision occurs analytically
speaking they tweak their words
so that language is logical
and indeed quite “poetical”
Almost mathematical (and
mostly so reasonable).
Right vs. left, here’s the disclaimer,
why make a choice; it’s a no-brainer.
“….But I beg
to differ (I’ll state it with pride)
that poets seem to join the two,
they think with one mind>”
Well stated , Walt. [maybe because I agree
]
Thanks for the prompt and the smiles to start my day.
And Thank Goodness for ‘Copy and Paste’ to reduce frustrations in commenting attempts.
So many delightful poems today love to comment on more, but….. “…slow down”
SPECTACLE
I see.
I see well enough to discern
some things on my own,
but lend me lens of clarity
and I’ll see
what’s left is not right.
I looked.
I looked beyond what my eyes
recognized and accepted the blur,
refusing lens of clarity
and I saw
what’s left was not right.
I know.
I know well enough to leave
well enough alone, and though
we thrived, we ignored lens of clarity
and I knew
what’s left was not right.
I see.
I see beyond what my eyes
desired, focused my vision,
aligned the lens of clarity
and I see
I left because it was right.
Sometimes one has to leave, Maxie. I left too, once, because it was right. And I’ve never been sorry.
Thanks for the support in sharing your example, both to you and de (who was quieted by the comment gremlin). I really appreciate the community here. The wound is only days old so it means a lot. Writing poetry has been cathartic.
Poetry is a blessing. Hang in there, Maxie! <3
“I knew I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque”
Delicate lines of frost
have appeared on the sunroom window.
Absorbing the early morning sun
they put me in mind of a map,
hubs and spokes,
urban areas connected
via single lines which run through
vast expanses of prairie,
touching countless lives
while I sip hot coffee,
then exhale,
forever changing the map.
sounds so much fun to create such random maps and imagine stories about them
Jerry! This is fantastic!! Brings me right to the left of center.
Thanks, Walt, for this great prompt. I always have fun with you
***
You have the right
To take what’s left
And leave with it.
And leave me here empty-handed.
As long as there’s
No other left
To go right where you’re headed
And right the wrong you did to me.
***
perfect reply to the prompt
so much left to set right
LEFTOVERS TONIGHT
A refrigerator full of meals
days in the eating and making,
taking a little of Monday’s
meat and Tuesday’s pasta,
lotsa vegetables in green,
I make a mean mash-up
of stuff we haven’t finished yet.
My bet is that my daughter
will roll her eyes and mutter
like she did the other time
I had served this. Hit or miss.
If you’re hungry enough,
you’ll eat it. Never defeated.
Leftovers will be served.
Don’t look on it as doom.
Soon comes Thursday,
Tacos loom! Yum!
Taking Aim
I greatly desire…
to be left alone with you,
when the time is right.
To be together often,
simply have you in my sight.
Swiftly take steady aim,
make the target your heart;
the bullseye your love
in hope my possession
until death do us part
Benjamin, it’s so sweet
Just being your own Cupid is all. Lovely, Benjamin!
I HAVE HER RIGHT WHERE SHE WANTS ME
Close and closer still,
nestled and comforted
by a love hard earned.
I’ve learned that the grass
isn’t really greener, but
just variant shades.
And in the end, the friend
that she began as, has
taken every length
to find strength in my malady.
More of a lady as I’ve ever deserved,
the best is reserved for when times
get bad, for better or worse,
sickness and health,
various stages of wealth;
there is love right there.
I smile knowing I have her
right here where she wants me.
Walt, a great poem. A lovely love poem
“has / taken every length / to find strength in my malady.” Amazing
This is my favorite of yours today. Beautiful expression.
A lovely poem – the final 2 lines made me smile!
Aww, lucky pair! And a clever poem, Walt!
great stuff Walt
Two Haiku – non-traditional with a pit of tradition in each…
A crisp autumn day
new citizens cast their vote
a right they cherish
What is left to do
now that empty talk is gone
winter comes too soon
Oh, Linda, wonderful! A truly great political reflection, and I think haiku/senryu is very befitting due to its brevity and laconic phrasing
ROBERT: This totally rocks. Thank you for the humor and the message.
“…be respectful of people with two left feet or who are always right, especially people who are always right who happen to have two left feet.”
WOOHOO YOU!! Two for Tuesday, indeed!!
That was supposed to be for the super nice guy above me.
Ahem… beside you! I’m just saying…
Only a nice guy would recognize a nice guy! Robert, thanks for being one yourself, and for all you do for poetry, poets and helping a guy like me to find something to do with all this “noise” in my head. I wrote poems before Poetic Asides. I am a true poet because of your guidance.
I agree…wooohooo for Walt’s Two-for-Tuesday!! Nice!!
RIGHT DOWN TO THE WIRE
This is it,
today’s the day.
All the noise should end today.
The race near finished
the line in sight,
and the choice is clear tonight.
Right at this moment
I’m picking a winner,
beef, not chicken tonight for dinner.
Right down to the wire,
I go with my hunch,
now if I knew what I wanted for lunch!
Thanks for the prompt, Walt! Love your poem…your humor always makes me smile.
I am challenging myself this time round to write poems from our prompts based in the them of teaching English as a Second language, immigration, and the struggles of new citizens. You can learn more about this double challenge on my website – http://.contemplativeed.blogspot.com
Again, thanks for the great prompt!
great prompt, Walt
Walt, thank-you for the prompt and the laughter. Each of your poems to this prompt are brilliant!
ah ! you make such awesome poetry for such things we even fail to register .. Much to learn right here !
I love it! ^_^
Robert had expressed concerns about the url for my poetry/writing blogs so here they are:
Through the Eyes of a Poet’s Heart - http://www.wojisme.wordpress.com
Across the Lake, Silently - http://www.aleerily.wordpress.com
Wallegory and Other Stories - http://www.wallegories.wordpress.com
Poetic Bloomings - http://poeticbloomings.com