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    Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 196

    Categories: Poetry Prompts, Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Blog, What's New.

    For this week’s poetry prompt, I want you to take one of the following lines and make it the first line of your poem. All these lines are taken from my personal notebooks, so they’re not especially wonderful–just some random places to start. Feel free to take liberties with these openings (the important part is the poeming).

    • She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
    • I’m not sure who I am or what I want
    • The world, a helicopter seed spinning
    • Burn the want out of every moment
    • My bed is a planet
    • Trees hide the better views

     

    Here’s my attempt:

    “Dang-blasted”

    She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
    about anymore. She’s been skating figure 8s
    around the old lake. The ice is thin. She can’t think
    forever. He never looked back is the problem,
    she says. And she can’t turn her head the other way.

    *****

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    *****

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    About Robert Lee Brewer

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    164 Responses to Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 196

    1. Mike Bayles says:

      Small Valley

      Trees hide the better views
      of valley to the side of the road
      where greenery conceals
      a narrow stream
      of unknown name
      moving toward unknown destiny.
      Leaves turn color
      splendor the valley.
      Its late year’s resplendence
      I see in radiant light of sun,
      bright reflections of time,
      a season’s pride
      while I make my way home.

    2. Mike Bayles says:

      My Bed Is a Planet

      My bed is a planet
      in light of dreams.
      Mars is calling
      in its fullness of red.
      to go is a simple journey
      once I’m in bed.
      To get to Venus,
      I go toward the sun,
      a little recreation,
      a little fun.
      As for Pluto,
      I do not go.
      Once a planet,
      and now not,
      I do not go to this spot.

    3. Juanita Lewison-Snyder says:

      burn the want
      by juanita lewison-snyder

      ya gotta burn the want in every moment
      gotta flame away the pain and doubts
      throw kerosene on ghosts that linger
      then cast that funeral pyre out to sea.

      when love and honor start crossing swords
      and lust and duty embroil in a lover’s quarrel
      might be time to call forth what’s left of kindness
      then through tears, put ‘em all down like a rabid dog.

      ya know what happens when ya play with matches,
      so quit pretending the phospho’s not real
      sometimes right and wrong warrants separation
      charr those bridges behind that ya cross.

      ya gotta burn the want in every moment
      gotta flame away the pain and doubts
      throw kerosene on ghosts that linger
      then cast that funeral pyre out to sea.

      © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    4. Carole Caprice says:

      “The World, A Helicopter Seed Spinning”
      ———————————————————–

      The world, a helicopter seed spinning,
      Hurled into existence by a predestined beginning.
      It circles the Sun, the supreme star of our system,
      Who takes 7 other planets right along with ‘im.
      How is it our neighboring spheres refuse to harbor life?
      Do they somehow know the cost of human strife?
      Or are they simply not chosen to be among blessed terrain,
      To be looked upon with awe, its inhabitants’ gain?
      Magnificent landscapes ~ how lucky we are,
      To be 3rd from the Sun and not spinning afar!

      © Carole Caprice

    5. DanielAri says:

      Love the “she’s been thinking” line.
      My posting is here:
      http://www.fightswithpoems.blogspot.com

    6. tunesmiff says:

      Of the five lines, the first one “spoke” to most clearly, saying, “There’s a line for a country song if ever there was one…”

      So, I hope I did it justice…

      : )

      SHE’S BEEN THINKING
      G. Smith (BMI)
      ————————————-
      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking about,
      Awake in the dark after the lights go out;
      Those nagging little things that raise the shadows of doubt;
      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking about.

      She’s been thinking on things that don’t need thinking on;
      Like what’ll we do when the kids’re all gone?
      They grow up so fast, it’ll be here before long;
      She’s been thinking on things that don’t need thinking on.

      I guess that’s a difference between she and me,
      Something I miss is all she can see.
      Was it something I said, beside her in bed?
      Or forgot to say at the start of the day?
      She knows I’ll be around when the chips are down,
      And I know what to expect,
      when
      I
      see
      that
      frown…

      She’s been thinking through things that don’t need thinking through,
      Like if she goes first, do I know what I’ll do?
      Will I go on alone, or will I find someone new?
      She’s been thinking through things that don’t need thinking through.

      Thinking through things that don’t need thinking through;
      She’s been thinking about things;
      She’s been thinking.

    7. CLKone says:

      Trees hide the better views?
      Sometimes.
      Trees muffle traffic too.
      Tall oaks and wispy pines
      Shade tiny lots
      Sometimes,
      Enlarge narrow spaces
      Cast canopies for fancy
      Weave forests of enchantment.
      Trees hide leafy paths awaiting children.
      Sometimes
      Trees frame castles, forts and oceans
      Just yards from the back door.
      Sometimes
      Trees are the better view.

    8. elishevasmom says:

      Sacred Offering

      Burn the life out of
      Every moment.

      Every moment
      Unique unto itself

      Unique unto itself
      Never comes again

      Never comes again
      The chance to miss nothing

      The chance to miss nothing
      Cherish the moment

      Cherish the moment
      It is sacred

      It is sacred
      Burn the life

      Live.

    9. Ann M says:

      Trees hide the better views
      of the river;
      a stand of old apple trees,
      the fruit falling rotten in October
      and the blossoms flying in April.
      Every year we argue
      whether it is better to cut them
      down so that we can see the river
      or let them stand
      because we can’t bear to
      cut them down,
      and every year we decide
      to wait.

    10. Marjory MT says:

      VIEW (Tri-let)

      Trees hide the better views
      of what I want to see,
      those sights that I would choose.
      Trees hide the better views.
      Must find new spot for muse,
      Some quiet place to be.
      Trees hide the better views
      of what I want to see.

      By Marjory T

    11. Marjory MT says:

      BURN the WANT……

      Burn the want out of every moment
      as you step within its set frame.
      Fill it with what is good,
      what is helpful to heart
      and can give some joy.
      Or unaware
      you will find
      that it’s
      gone.

      By Marjory T

    12. Marjory MT says:

      Busy, Busy, BUSY week, have not beeen able to read and comment, what few I have read are really great. Did some poeming whil waiting for shoppers, meetings and doctors. etc. – Only I ‘miss-remembered’ beginning line.

      Sooooo – ‘My bed is a Planet’ morphed into ‘The planet is my bed.” :)
      resuling in the following.

      The planet is my bed,
      the earth is my mother
      where I lay my head.
      The heavens are my Father
      by whom I am led.
      The sea is my brother
      from which I am fed.
      Earth’s breeze a cover
      as surface paths I tread,
      song birds o’r me hover.
      The planet is my bed.

      By Marjory T

    13. This site is so frustrating tonight. Can’t post rest of my comments. So, Jane, Letting Go is stunning, sad, and beautiful.
      My Hearts, wonderful poem to ponder.
      Bruce, Amazing use of this prompt(s)
      Walt, It’s all good.
      CL, Love `flying a moon kite.
      Robert, never least, although last this time around. I love your poem, and your thoughts.

    14. pmwanken says:

      INHALATIONS OF CONTENTMENT

      Burn the want
      out of every moment,
      for when we want
      we forget what we have.

      2012-10-12
      P. Wanken

    15. Kayfay says:

      Burn the want out of every moment
      Take action and do what you want while the moment is here
      You can’t get it back once it’s gone
      Don’t make room for regrets of what you didn’t do
      and spend days wishing you could go back in time
      To do over those things you wish you had done
      Don’t let missed moments be missed opportunities
      Burn the want out of every moment, do what you know you want to do.

    16. Burn the want out of every moment,
      Live the life of every chorus line,
      Run the race of countless ancient athletes,
      In them, fortitude breeds counter decline.

      Stream the smoke throughout every fire,
      Glide beyond every deterrence,
      Sew binding thoughts as reasons to aspire,
      Years of struggle shed light on true brilliance.

      Plant seeds of sacrificial actions,
      Take the walk of dusty roads less known,
      Course roads trodden by ancient Bedouins,
      If one can be led to Solomon’s throne.

      This journey leads around the world in twirls,
      And in the depth of experience, Pearls.

    17. Joyce says:

      The world
      a helicopter seed spinning
      Faster and faster
      days rush by
      Stop-I want off
      faster and faster
      life spins out of control
      Too much to do
      not enough time…

    18. Joyce says:

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
      Worry,worry,worry.
      Why?
      What’s done is done
      No changing it now.
      It’s history.
      On to new opportunities.
      The future awaits discovery.

    19. Ready on the Set

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want.
      Sometimes it feels like I’m an actor
      in a bad movie, eager for a new one.
      Sometimes it feels like I’m directing
      my own movie, but everyone has forgotten
      their lines. Sometimes it feels like
      the commercial break—time to turn down
      the volume, get a snack and wait
      for something interesting to happen.
      But sometimes I feel like the spunky,
      driven protagonist, giving it all I’ve got,
      knowing the end will turn out well.

    20. Better Views

      Trees hide the better views,
      so they say, but I say
      trees are the views—
      tall thick oaks like beloved grandfathers
      lovely golden aspens shaking castanets
      weeping willows swaying like hula dancers
      cottonwoods with seeded fluff like children blowing bubbles
      pine trees, ever green and pointing up, godly reminders,
      poplars, maples, elm, tulip, hickory, birch, ash, larkspur—
      all lovely views within themselves. See, really see, the trees.

    21. Joyce says:

      The world,
      a helicopter seed spinning
      Faster and faster
      days rush by
      Stop- I want off
      Faster and faster
      life spins out of control
      Too mush to do
      not enough time…

    22. Joyce says:

      She’a been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
      Worry, worry, worry
      Why?
      What’s done is done
      No changing it now
      It’s history
      On to new opportunities
      The future awaits discovery

    23. Joyce says:

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want
      Opportunities abound
      Jobs scarce
      What should I do?
      What can I do?
      No one listens
      They say they do
      but I know better
      They have jobs
      I don’t

    24. SheilaM says:

      Thanks for the prompts, Robert.

      burn the want out of every moment
      so my eyes pulse not for blood to clot
      in your cord,
      and my ears listen not for the pin-drop
      of your fall.

      burn the want out of every moment
      so my mouth speaks not lies that will rot
      your refuge,
      and my body drops not to greener spots
      in your sward.

      burn the want out of every moment
      until I am able to see what is in front of me,
      hear instruction, give thanks,
      credit humility-banks;

      lie exposed, unclothed in serenity’s bed
      where desires were bred, never fulfilled,
      and now, never instilled.
      burn the want out of every moment.

    25. THINKING OUT LOUD

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need
      thinking, much less “Whatever possessed you?”
      out loud, in American, on a bus on this deserted,
      snaking road between El Mago and La Casita.
      Hurtling around blind curves, engine roaring –
      the driver says the throttle’s stuck. Behind me,
      “Whatever possessed you to take this bus?”
      “So we could see the scenery.” “It’s dirty.
      Chickens in the seats. You call this scenic?”
      Across from me, a little girl with rooster
      in her lap. The throttle roars, we hurtle. Then
      we stop, and quiver to the edge of chip-seal
      dropoff to gully. “We could die here!”
      the woman’s voice. The girl sits gazing out
      the window; her rooster crows, just once.
      Out the window, sandy hills and dry arroyos
      under blue, blue sky. Crosses in threes and
      fives, a single, a score. Crosses made of dry
      sticks, two bumpers lashed together, a tire-iron,
      remnants of a load. Travelers who went no
      farther on this road.

    26. Her world, a helicopter seed spinning

      under his fingers,
      a piano playing
      for an hour
      on the radio
      and she is all motion
      and letting go with the gravity
      of his notes
      telling her
      she is beautiful,
      desirable, attractive,
      everything she ever wanted to be
      just the way she is –
      Sandra, some of us have been plugging that meter
      all our lives for a second
      of bliss here,
      that special remembered year
      with two minutes of bliss there,
      this spinning free
      neither tree
      nor what you should be
      and I still feel your fingers
      from last night,
      your poem, the world
      a helicopter seed spinning
      making it hard to see
      where I am going,
      where my feet are planted
      in the ground.

      Written after hearing/reading The piano speaks by Sandra Beasley
      http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/236980

      Here’s a taste:

      For an hour I was a salamander
      shimmying through the kelp in search of shore,
      and under his fingers the notes slid loose
      from my belly in a long jellyrope of eggs
      that took root in the mud. And what…….

      ……..
      For an hour I was a maple tree,
      and under the summer of his fingers
      the notes seeded and winged away

      in the clutch of small, elegant helicopters.

    27. Michael Grove says:

      Burn the Want

      Burn the want out of every moment
      ‘till nothing is left but the need.
      Wash each hand of covetousness
      until there’s no more greed.

      By Michael Grove

    28. My Bed Is A Planet

      My bed is a planet
      called Mysterious Wonder.
      I lay my head down, hoping
      it will conform to pillow’s
      purposeful neck indent.
      At times, marriage of head
      and pillow is happy. Why
      are there nights when
      my head does not fit
      that perfect place
      on which to dream
      of what is not real? Why
      is my blanket sometimes
      a cushion of comfort,
      other times, a nest
      of needles? Wonderment
      and mystery exist,
      spinning in space just above
      the planet of my bed.

    29. chait4me says:

      My bed is a Planet

      My bed is a planet, as we revolve through the night.
      Alas the world is eternally right.
      The stars up above is a map of our past.
      A love once lost has returned long last.
      A world ever changing, yet forever stays true.
      We now have the time where old becomes new.
      The man in the moon has a smile on his face.
      The stars all align and have taken their place.
      The love of my life, now asleep at my side.
      A honeymoon of time; I’m finally his bride.
      My bed is a planet; as we revolve through the night.
      Alas the world is eternally right.

    30. JRSimmang says:

      And the universe slowly revolves.
      I, here, the missive waves of
      Linen and silk
      Tempt me to space.
      I stare into the predawn starlight
      And wonder if this is what the other planets feel
      In the other houses
      In the other blocks.
      Do they rotate?
      Do they collide?
      Are mountains moving as they are now?
      I yawn.
      What does this make me?
      Am I a sleeping giant under the
      Starlit, gasping canopy
      Whiling away the turnings
      Of the celestial fires?
      Or am I an ocean,
      Vast and cold,
      Fragile under the weight of a sky blue
      And constantly turning over myself?
      I sleep well, regardless.
      You stir,
      An earthquake,
      Upsetting a delicate balance.
      And your eyes,
      Littering the ground as a forest does,
      Sweep from equator to pole.
      Our atmosphere is
      Simply gone.
      Speak to me, your mountain whisper
      Cascading from the deepest depths
      Of who knows where,
      And tell me that this cold is just
      A temporary reprieve
      From an unjust and cruel
      Firestorm.
      My bed is a planet
      And you are my gravity.
      Find my throat
      And wrap your fingers around it.
      Make me breathless.
      Make me long for weightlessness.
      Acknowledge that now that we have started
      There is no way to slow this down.
      This bed.
      This bed is moving.
      And you and I
      Form the mountains.

    31. pmwanken says:

      trees hide the better
      views of open spaces and
      possibilities

    32. claudsy says:

      Fiction came to mind with this prompt. The story leaped into my mind and wouldn’t go away. Here it is.

      One Legend’s Lesson

      “Burn the want out of every moment,”
      Connor said, smacking my staff away.

      “Don’t breathe if not fully, deeply.
      Life must be tasted, appreciated.

      Staff swinging, I memorize his words;
      My life on this mortal world requires it.

      “See sun’s glory, soak in its energy.
      Moonshine comes soon enough.”

      My rhythm breaks, as does my staff
      In the flurry of Connor’s master strokes.

      He stands over me, breathing calm
      Assurance into his defeated opponent.

      “Only McLeods offer true mercy in
      This game called mortal life.”

      His words peal through my mind,
      Reminding me of mercy’s truth;

      Highlanders don’t need tartans
      To take the battle to their foes.

    33. Joyce says:

      I like your reference to trees and memories in refererence to what we see, and what is really there.

    34. CLKone says:

      The world, a helicopter seed
      Spinning its course
      Around a sun marking time,
      Turning night into day and
      Flying a moon kite
      Tethered by magnetic force,
      Incubates humanity under
      the Watchful Eye of the
      universe.

    35. Marianv says:

      In My Dreams

      My bed is a planet
      Its orbit is wobbly
      When I awaken, who will I be?

      Many long nights, lost in our journeys
      Traveling together with the moon
      And the stars…
      Our planet castle, our planet headquarters
      Oh, how we danced as the music was ours.

      My planet grows older, a lumpy foundation
      A cast-away moon and some left-over stars
      No need to guide me, my travels are ended
      Sweet dreams forever, my planet is home.

    36. IS SUMMER NEVER ENOUGH?

      Burn the want out of every moment,
      said the Sun.
      But here’s one friendless tomato left
      on October’s vine,
      not nearly fist-size; muscling in
      among drooping withered leaves,
      determined
      to endure to ripeness.
      Chicken-wire squeaks
      against a corner post in wind
      that feels like fall. One jay, worthless,
      noisy creature, will not
      give up searching for a peanut.
      Everything persists
      in wanting. Shouldn’t life be noisy
      in a falling season?

    37. arthur_rider says:

      trees hide the better views
      the forest fields the foraging fauna
      hunters hidden in huts
      birds biding away while biting bugs
      lovers longing
      bless the trees!

    38. AS THE WORLD TURNS

      The world, a helicopter seed spinning.
      A counter-centrifugal confluence
      of uncontrolled revolutions.
      The momentum is there, the masses
      have reached velocity, en force.
      The course we are on will toss us
      into chaos unless we slow down;
      move forward. In child-like wonder
      we are under its spell. Watching
      the helicopter spin in seeds of thought.

    39. Jane Shlensky says:

      The Second Coming

      Burn the want.
      Out of every moment,
      stretch beyond reaching,
      make a sky to glide in,
      a wing to rise up,
      a word to abide.

      Burn the need.
      Ashes will fertilize
      possibility.

    40. Jane Shlensky says:

      The Better Views

      Trees hide the better views
      From our window across the pasture
      To where the horses graze
      And nicker to one another.

      Autumn changes all that as trees
      Drop their leafy obstructions
      Like ladies dropping their fiery robes,
      A subtle burlesque.

      Between the naked limbs
      We watch land laid by turn green,
      Migrating flocks of birds settling on the field,
      The October sky tucking itself into soil.

      We will watch snow smooth that landscape
      A hand on cat fur, watch the deer wade
      Through drifts, hear the ice crack,
      The trickle of melted winter feeding spring.

    41. KILMER’S LAMENT

      Trees hide the better views.
      People choose their perspective
      with the objective of seeing the forest.
      The bigger the picture, the more the
      need to take it all in; memory
      becomes what is perceived as
      a good life lived well. But it’s hard to tell
      when our myopic mind only sees
      what our hearts will allow. Poets offer
      words that prefer to lull and placate,
      and that’s great… but, looking just past
      our noses closes us off from
      the world at large. And a large world it is.
      Think deeply, live lovely… see clearly;
      never let the trees hide the better views.

    42. Joyce says:

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want
      I want this
      I want that
      No I need this
      I need that
      Money scarce
      wants become needs
      I want little
      I need more

    43. Burn the want out of every moment,
      until all that is left is every moment.
      Cherish these slowly, for they are fleeting.

    44. Michael Grove says:

      Mysterious Life

      My bed is a planet
      in a distant galaxy
      where a mysterious life
      is lived so vividly
      behind the rapid
      eye movements while
      semi conscious logic
      cannot discern which is
      better or when the other
      will continue or end.

      By Michael Grove

    45. cstewart says:

      Camping in the Stratosphere

      My whitest bed is a speeding planet,
      With memory and expanding space.

      The sheets are layers of impermanence,
      Peeled off, replaced by new, temporary
      meanings.
      The structure of the Hawaiiana, pineapple posts
      Add the comedic element to the contemplative
      Nature of the lightening way.

      Though the space does not stop at the edge
      of the softness,
      It hovers in the emptiness of its own time,
      With a specific permanence that transcends itself.

    46. PowerUnit says:

      Creed of a Procrastinating Writer

      Burn the want out of every moment
      Maximize the effectiveness of your awareness
      Strike not the tamborine of discontent
      Nor beat the drum of insolence
      Sit strongly in your seat and scream at the sinners
      Drive the little darlings out of your temple

    47. Taking some liberties with the prompt:

      Dizzy
      (a semi-cento after Robert Lee Brewer)

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want,
      but she’s been thinking about things
      that don’t need thinking. I know how
      to burn the want out of every moment,
      but she knows how to measure the flashpoint.
      Our bed is a planet of misunderstandings,
      our room is full of windows,
      but trees hide the better views.
      Our world is a helicopter seed spinning,
      and we hang on, dizzy, corkscrewing
      toward the ground, wondering what
      may grow when we get there.

    48. taratyler says:

      i’m not sure who i am
      or what i want
      i serve and provide
      always there for others

      i am undefined
      yet labeled and expected
      depended upon
      always there for others

      if i ran away
      to find my lost self
      then i might be noticed
      always there for others

    49. POEMS

      She’s been thinking things that don’t need thinking.
      Dreaming dreams that don’t need dreaming.
      Loving one she shouldn’t be loving.
      Forgetting sometimes poems
      Are merely poems.

    50. seingraham says:

      Set Yourself Afire

      Burn the want out of every moment
      We’re all only allotted so many …
      Nobody knows just when they’ll run out
      No-one wants to reach the end, still wishing,
      Still wistful for things left undone – instead
      Of fire in the belly – you’re left with ashes
      On the tongue…

    51. SEEKER

      Burn the want from every moment -
      Flaunt the haunting ire
      That smolders like a haze
      Ablaze with yearning,
      Earning thirst’s allure,
      For I’m not sure who I am
      Or what I want.

    52. my hearts love songs says:

      fabulous prompt, Robert! loved it!
      and some amazing poetry!
      here’s mine ~

      BURNING

      “Burn the want out of every moment”

      I remember her saying those words
      back when we were young
      but I can’t remember
      what it was to want like that

      I knew she had to be mine
      I had to possess her
      but I don’t remember
      why

      One day she said she had to go
      that she wanted more out of life
      but I can’t remember
      what I lacked

      It was as though her desire for me
      had gone out like a candle
      but I don’t remember
      her leaving

      She was gone
      as if never here
      but I can’t remember
      where I put her

    53. SharoninDallas says:

      Robert and everyone — really good poems today.

      I’m Not Sure Who I Am Or What I Want

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want.
      I’m not who I used to be.
      So many changes, slowly creeping over me.
      And over everyone I see.
      I see loss, I see pain, I see death, I see grief.
      I don’t care anymore for what used to bring relief.
      I want to rush, I want to go, I want to be in the know.
      But I ask “Why?” Sigh. What is it all for? I want a door
      To a clear path that will never be.
      I want calm. I want peace. I want the old me.

    54. my bed is…
      a planet where
      atmospheric dynamics
      volcanic eruptions and seismic
      vibrations are welcomed occurrences

    55. Medicine Cabinet

      Burn desire out of every moment;
      The essential oil of life
      Distilled and extracted
      Then drip-fed through an IV
      To burn the veins and singe the heart.

      Apothecary jars of experience
      Arranged, corked and labeled
      On the spice rack of daily doses -
      A pinch of fear, a dash of wonder -
      The aroma of fresh brewed excitement.

      Hold you breath until your lungs
      Remember what it is to ache for air
      Then break the surface and shout
      ‘Leave the casts to the broken bones,
      These medicines shall mend your soul.’

    56. Jane Shlensky says:

      Tangle

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want–
      the world I know, a helicopter seed
      spinning my bed into a planet,
      twirling at restless heights,
      the lump in the pit of my stomach
      inviting me to look down,
      view my life from a high place,
      see what’s what,
      but trees hide the better views
      and everything is a wash of blue
      that burns the want out of every moment.

      Wanting nothing more than to want more,
      desire is my conundrum, not hers.
      She’s been thinking about things
      that don’t need thinking,
      maybe about who she is
      and what she wants,
      maybe about me,
      maybe about her,
      maybe about me and her,
      and I’m not sure.

    57. Jane Shlensky says:

      Robert, really love yours today.

      The Letting Go

      She’s been thinking
      about things that don’t
      need thinking, about
      how his ankles swelled
      and he complained,
      about whether she
      fed the chickens,
      cats, dog, him,
      wondering did she eat
      anything today, about
      where her children are
      and then if those young people
      that came and stayed so long
      were hers or someone else’s.

      She’s been watching and listening
      for hints toward where and who,
      clues to unravel the mystery of her being.
      Where did she put her glasses?
      Did she wear glasses?
      Is the car outside for her
      to drive or for the lady that comes?
      Is that lady one of hers, she wonders.

      She’s been thinking about things
      that run through the underbrush
      of her mind, rustling fallen leaves
      of memory, her thoughts chasing
      movement just so far and then watching
      ripples in the wake of the unseen.
      She thinks of telling him what tangles
      in her mind, but he will worry.

      He dreams whole stories
      while she sees snaps
      of color and movement, an eye
      here, a reaching hand there,
      a cat purring, the steam rising
      from her coffee, a single line
      from a Christmas carol that she hums
      all day. He won’t want to think
      about what she’s been thinking about
      that doesn’t need thinking.
      He’ll wonder why she can’t relax,
      let it all go, listen to the ticking
      of the clock.

    58. So many good poems here!
      *****

      Slip-Ups

      She’s been thinking about things
      that don’t need thinking
      about. She’s been climbing tree
      houses in her mind, slipping
      down one rung at a time, slipping
      down into limbs that couldn’t
      hold her, slipping down into the ground
      even colder, slipping down
      she falls even harder. Trees
      hide the better views, the way
      she wants life to be. Climbing, she slips
      back into comfort of swayed thinking
      about things that don’t need thinking
      about.

    59. RobHalpin says:

      Nature Stirs

      My bed
      is a planet.
      You have roused Mama’s ire
      pulling back the sheets during my
      dirt nap.

      It’s time
      to remind you
      that your technology
      pales compared to the power of
      nature.

    60. Hannah says:

      Thank you, Robert…I found your lines to be very inspiring!! I chose the last of the bunch and have an image to accompany.

      Smiles to the poetical peeps!

      http://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2012/10/10/aligned/

    61. JACK’S RIDGE

      Trees hide the better views, he said.

      This slope where for time out of mind
      the oak trees grew, hawk-nests in their highest
      branches, tall cedars for a raven to survey
      the view. Earthworms wound among roots
      that held the hill together – roots
      that sang for rain.

      Uprooted now, and heaped with branches
      in a pile. The whole slope
      bulldozed clean. Humans always think
      they have time to fix what they’ve done.
      Pine and cedar uprooted in a pile
      on this brown hill. Just dust.

      Do they have time? Here comes
      the rain, before anyone can say, to pour
      down on their slash-
      piles and sign its name in gulleys
      gouging out the dust; to take it all away.

    62. Willy says:

      WITHOUT A THOUGHT

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking;
      about how can she make her great escape; break out
      through the automatic sliding door by wheelchair;
      turn left; hold up her feet; roll downhill gathering
      speed on the decline; turn right to merge quickly with
      cross-traffic; ride the backdraft of the cars and keep
      on a-going because no one back there is yet
      aware that, thoughtlessly, she has left the building.

    63. addi22 says:

      Confusion

      I’m not sure who I am
      or what I want
      every time you are around.

    64. sjmcken says:

      My bed is a planetary system
      with me providing the center
      of gravity to hold the planets
      – books, magazines, writing
      tablet, laptop, TV remote – and
      planetesimals – newspaper,
      water bottle, crumpled socks –
      in orbit.

    65. De Jackson says:

      Caught
      (a somewhat-Cento)

      She’s been thinking about things
      that don’t need thinking:
      the world, a helicopter seed
      spinning,
      burning the want
      out of every moment
      through trees
      that hide better views.
      Unsure
      of who she is
      what she wants,
      her bed is a planet;
      solid core singe
      -ing its way through the frozen
      crust of things unthought.

      .

    66. Karlie says:

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
      And lately he’s been staying out all night drinking
      So she sits alone and stares out the window at the stars
      Wondering where it all went wrong
      She’s been thinking about leaving
      He’s been thinking about drinking
      All night long
      He’s a fool, but he don’t know it
      She’s falling out of love,
      But she won’t show it
      Until one day he wakes to find her gone.

    67. Bad Luck in the Rearview

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking,
      focusing on forgetting her surefire path to failure.
      She’d heard Satan’s other name, the Accuser, and believed
      based on her experience, hearing his nasal twang
      whispering in her ear, I know what you did. We all know.

      As an act of defiance, she broke off her rearview mirror,
      tossing it out the window, not even turning to see it land,
      not worrying about the seven years’ bad luck she might
      have earned, deciding to apply the curse to the last seven.

    68. Domino says:

      Bed Planet

      My bed is a planet,
      (Planet Sleep)
      and I visit it
      regularly,
      (rapturously,
      rosily,
      cozily)
      for my nightly infusion
      of relaxation
      and rest
      and all the best
      dressed
      (for bed)
      slumberers.

      Except sometimes
      when my bed
      seems to be
      (Planet Insomnia)
      no longer
      a bed of dreams
      but one of
      rest
      -less
      tumbling
      grumbling
      wakeful
      inactivity
      and no longer
      my happy friend,
      but a cruel
      task-
      master,
      (disaster)
      disallowing
      any rest
      (or not much)
      at all.

      Diana Terrill Clark

    69. julie e. says:

      TO DO OR NOT TO BE (THAT IS THE QUESTION)

      she’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
      when what she should be is things that need doing
      and her thoughts keep leaving when they should be staying
      causing daydreams that leave her distracted and wandering
      while biscuits are burning and sinks overflowing
      and laundry needs washing and mending needs sewing
      and yet she keeps pondering the hills that need roving
      because trees hide
      the better views.

    70. Oh Robert, Your poem really resonates with me. I love it!

    71. Misky says:

      Spin Me One More Time

      My world
      is a helicopter seed spinning
      and caught in a double twirl,
      a ribbonous helixed curl
      of my inherent imperfections.
      I can but only hope
      that the seed after next
      takes hold and sets anchor
      to my feet, but not quite yet
      as my heart is set
      to spin a bit more.

    72. PKP says:

      Ooooh ROBERT – use the word “love” sparingly with regard to poetry… For what it’s worth (mhmm what “is” it worth??? … not much currency there) nevertheless, I did “love” your poem this morning.

    73. What’s Reverend Wesley Doing in My Bed?

      My bed is a planetary nebula
      I am, but a speck of cosmic dust
      My pillow cradles all of my medulla
      Under covers, the rest of me is thrust

      I am, but a speck of cosmic dust
      My alarm clock, here in space, rings noiselessly
      Under covers, the rest of me is thrust
      Today is Sunday so my thoughts are with John Wesley

      My alarm clock, here in space, rings noiselessly
      “Catch on fire with enthusiasm…” John says in turn,
      Today is Sunday so my thoughts are with John Wesley
      “and people will come for miles to watch you burn.”

      “Catch on fire with enthusiasm…” John says in turn,
      Furthermore, “When I have money, I get rid of it quickly…”
      “and people will come for miles to watch you burn.”
      “…lest it find a way into my heart,” he sums up richly.

      Furthermore, “When I have money, I get rid of it quickly…”
      My pillow cradles all of my medulla
      “…lest it find a way into my heart,” he sums up richly.
      My bed is a planetary nebula

    74. Robert – I find your ‘not especially wonderful’ lines quite inspiring! Thanks for sharing your randomness! :)
      Michelle

      Sick and Tired

      My bed is a planet
      made just for me,
      for when I’m sick
      this is the place to be.

      I have my books
      extra blankets too,
      a cup of tea
      is a required brew.

      Could you grab me a cracker
      perhaps more tea,
      turn up the heat
      yes, you can pity me.

      Time to sleep
      too tired to read,
      cough, cough, cough
      ao glad they no longer bleed.

      My bed is a planet
      I snuggle down deep,
      wake me when I’m better
      for now, everything else can keep.

    75. nitapita says:

      A sad chorus

      Burn the want out of every
      moment that passes quickly
      by not allowing me to be
      myself, it makes wonder
      Why do
      I…

    76. On Repeat

      The world, a helicopter seed spinning
      crazy, dysfunctional
      but with a pattern -
      an ebb and flow of destruction and healing.
      Will we ever learn from our past?

      Last Burn

      Burn the want out of every moment
      So all that is left is need
      a
      n
      d
      giving.

    77. What’s Next (Triolet)

      The world, a helicopter seed spinning -
      wondering where we will fall,
      Will we be grinning?
      The world, a helicopter seed spinning -
      Or will we be pinning?
      I am held in thrall.
      The world, a helicopter seed spinning –
      wondering where we will fall.

    78. “Where Will the World Land”

      The world: a helicopter seed spinning
      Not knowing where it’s going
      Helpless against the wind, skimming
      The river, the current wildly flowing
      Ready to pull us under, whisk us away
      Or maybe some bird intent to devour
      Will catch it in its claws and prey
      Upon us in one swift gulp as we cower
      Or do we hope maybe we’ll softly alight
      Upon some fresh patch of unsalted earth
      And while this world is swallowed by night
      A new one springs forth of greater worth.

    79. MY BED IS A PLANET

      My bed is a planet.
      Population two.
      Their is peace where love lays.
      No battles are waged
      when the Planet Serta
      is inhabited. Gravity
      has its pull, but we become
      weightless when the excessive
      bounce lifts every ounce of us
      off of the sheets. It is sweet
      that the air is rarefied when
      clarified with love. Warmth
      and security lives upon the purity
      of its cushy surface.
      My bed is a planet.
      I am your leader. Take me.

    80. JWLaviguer says:

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
      And smelling things that shouldn’t be stinking
      She can’t remember yesterday
      Dreaming of times so far away
      The future holds so much in store
      Her life today is such a bore
      “One day I’ll leave and never come back”
      But she can never get on track
      Stuck in this time and place
      Where no one can recall her face
      This isn’t here and it isn’t there
      In fact, she isn’t anywhere
      Acknowledge her, if you can
      She’s not a woman, but not a man
      It has lived a generation
      A figment of your imagination.

    81. Flip-flops

      Burn the want out of every moment,
      every second turn into gratitude;
      an inside out mental perception
      douses desirous attitudes.

    82. Love your poem, Robert. Wow.

      Thinking

      She’s been thinking
      about things that don’t need,
      thinking about things that don’t want,
      or cling, or hate, after
      six months or six years

      thinking about how far
      she has driven in this
      stupid dark blue Windstar
      with its half-demolished bumper
      and overflowing bag of trash

      thinking about him, and the other her,
      and why he won’t be on time,
      and the smell of his cologne,
      thinking about red wine and promises
      about anything at all

      because sometimes it’s easier that way.

    83. SHE’S BEEN THINKING

      She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking;
      thinking about years I had spent drinking that were wasted
      on swill often tasted with ill effects. It reflects on my will

      and still, she’s been thinking about things.
      Things don’t need thinking when that sinking feeling sets in
      and she grins to hide her pain that again, I am afflicted.

      Inebriate with the trappings of this fleeting life. And my wife,
      has been thinking our time has been too short, time spent
      cavorting with my mistress muse, words are like women

      always just out of reach, but teaching lessons best served
      to strengthen a resolve once solvent but very repetitious of late.
      But words when needed, never let you down and I’ve found

      that she’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking.
      Why does life need to change when once estranged souls reignite,
      only to put you in the fight for your life? And I’ve been thinking

      the best thing I could be thinking. The gift of this life that has given
      two extraordinary daughters and an outstanding wife, is cherished
      more as it slips from grip, wanting to reclaim its embrace.

      It is in the face of mortality that our vision clears, and one hears things
      such as “Live for today”, “One Day at a Time” and “Seize the Day!”.
      It’s not to say that we ignore these in the goodness of times,

      but, she’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking,
      and she has me thinking she’s right. I might not live forever,
      but whatever time we have is best spent in pursuits that touch

      as many hearts as we can. And touch each other. I’ve been thinking
      how much I love my life. My Daughters. My wife, even though
      she’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking.

    84. Ber says:

      Carved View

      Trees hide the better views
      they give us answers
      they give us clues
      listening from within
      like a gentle muse

      Sitting on the branch
      with all going on down below
      traffic of people
      wonderful fast and slow

      Stories are unfolding
      right before my eyes
      some that i am glad to hear
      some that bring on disguise

      With every tiny twig
      that grasps the story teller
      of every sentance formation
      of the first tree feller

      lying back looking up to the clouds
      passing by volumes of the crowds
      As i have the better views
      of the passing by hidden clues
      in a tree of rustling muse

    85. PowerUnit says:

      I’m not sure who I am or what I want
      Whom to tease or whom to taunt
      I stayed up late again last night
      Thinking myself into a fright

      Our world is changing
      Our paradigm hanging
      Slow, slow, slow
      Is the new grow, grow, grow

      Someone’s knocking on my front door
      Now they want something more
      I have nothing else to give
      All I want to do is … live

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