Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 310

I’m in a mood today, I guess. A slap happy mood, so today’s prompt might be as fun as I think it is, or it might be a great big fail. Here’s hoping everyone else is in a mood today too.

For today’s prompt, write a poem using three of the following six words:

  1. premium
  2. fertile
  3. translucence
  4. whirligig
  5. astronomical
  6. doublespeak

How did I come up with this list? Easy: I flipped through my big old dictionary at random and chose the first word that I saw on each page. Well, with one exception: I removed immunosorbent from the list, so folks who want a real challenge can incorporate that word (but I’m not).

Speaking of challenges: Why not write a poem with all six words (and/or seven)? Or hey, why not write a sestina with the six words as your end words? I told you I was in a mood.


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Here’s my attempt at a Three Out Of Six Words Poem:

“fertile doublespeak”

there’s no other way to relay it
the whole affair was a spectacle
& spun me ’round like a whirligig

so that before i could bicycle
outta there i was caught in a fence
that bent without astronomical

assistance as if my translucence
blocked out the light’s premium on switch
or as if ’twere immunosorbent


roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community, which means he maintains this blog, edits a couple Market Books (Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market), writes a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine, leads online education, speaks around the country on publishing and poetry, and a lot of other fun writing-related stuff.

Yesterday, his daughter turned four, so everyone in the house was in a bit of silly mood. And he’s the author of Solving the World’s Problems.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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332 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 310

  1. Sara McNulty

    Cost of Love

    Premiums for love
    are astronomical.
    You are on a whirligig
    of elevated emotions.
    If love ends
    with the ever popular
    doublespeak of, “it’s not
    you, it’s me,” that peak
    you stood on crashes.
    Flashes of the translucent
    relationship you thought
    you had, dulls to opaque

  2. Thedeb

    “I’m in a mood today.”
    My mind is a whirligig.

    The usual fertile ground of creativity
    has left me today with only doublespeak.

    How to carve these words into
    works of cadence and translucence?

    The astronomical task before me
    is daunting, tears stain my dress.

    “Robert Lee Brewer wants a sestina,
    and all I can offer is prose.”

  3. strandedmoon

    Premium ticket to the blues

    I have premium ticket to the blues
    Regarding different lifespans that follow clues
    Into the whirligig of rotating feelings
    Between meetings of translucence’s eyelids
    Of strangers who were doing routine bids

    I sit on premium row by the scenes
    Watching the theatre and sticking with glue
    Which fate’s whirligig made cool unconscious
    So hard that I received the translucence’s flu
    Of random believing with naivety’s accents

  4. drnurit


    By Nurit Israeli

    Meeting again
    after all these years.
    Well beyond their prime.
    Politeness at a premium.
    Whirligigs of doublespeak
    woven into casual small talk.
    And yet − a softly-hued rainbow
    of longings is slowly surging behind
    the translucence of the fertile silence.

    And yet…

  5. josephdaniel

    Unforeseen Circumstances

    My love was at a premium.
    It sprang from fertile ground.
    A whirligig of emotions now abound.
    Your constant doublespeak
    has reached the heights of astronomical,
    and torn my love apart.
    A translucence now veils my heart.

  6. grcran

    absorbed in you

    immunosorbed or maybe just plain bent, you are
    you take my antigens but you don’t take ‘em that far
    in doublespeak in fertile waves of grain you lay
    your weapons down translucence when you smile that way
    and weigh the options while concocting premium
    time travel astronomical you go i come

    by gpr crane

  7. Hiba Gardezi

    To wander ‘cross these streets of thine where the night hath turned to day
    I find beauty in the past, in the present and the future
    And to the times in thy words I stay
    In a velvety air of frequency
    In thy messed up world of translucence
    When I would turn and say
    Here comes the day!
    Here comes the day!
    Nay, goes there the day,
    Nay, goes there the day,
    Is no number accountable?
    Some angel, some wise king, come here to assure me of this doublespeak
    This tragedy does thou not feel?
    And as I show thee these vast galaxies of astromical evidence
    Of stars of belief and love
    I beg of thee to
    This atmosphere of hate and distance conceal

  8. josephdaniel

    Brain Waves

    Somedays, there’s a translucence to my brain in which
    I find myself having to explain every thought it makes.
    On others, however, it’s a premium-edition whirligig,
    with a storm of activity swirling inside.
    Today, I’m hoping, is a fertile one; although,
    as an astronomical number of thoughts invade it,
    it remains stuck in traffic, engaged in doublespeak.

  9. Jezzie


    i i
    l_O_ l
    sitting in my garden exercising my fertile imagination while I was
    watching a dragonfly flitting around whirling and twirling at will
    as if it were being guided on an astronomical flight
    divine influence outside of itself on some invisible whirligig
    never stopping flitting or fluttering long enough for me to
    see the translucence of its beautiful wings in the light.

    If this is centred it should look like the shape of a dragonfly, but I have not mastered the art of formatting on this site!

      1. PressOn

        Wonderful. The correct formatting does make it work better, but the long words and lines fit so well with the shape of the creature. And I love the way you ended it.

  10. Shennon

    Although I fear
    I doublespeak,
    the pure translucence
    of my feelings
    portrayed in my eyes
    and on my face
    must give you
    some indication
    as to the
    astronomical love
    I feel for you.


  11. uvr

    Dreams are born in the
    fertile soil of my mind,
    blossoming into

    premium tales of love
    woven from translucence of
    thoughts taking wing on

    hopes, a bright whirligig
    burst of emotions

    Until they take on
    the shape of words, swallowed by
    clouds of doublespeak

  12. Jessenia


    Mama sat at the table in silence,
    Papa round her eating waiting who sat before Mama
    who sat by Joe who melted to the floor who sat next to
    my sister who molted to the wall who sat next to me – the me
    next to Papa eschewing politics and chum next to Mama,
    eyes boring holes into the cement on the table.
    And even though the water lapped at her feet and
    the walls were caving in and even though she
    could hold the white noise in her palm, twist
    it round and place her fingers beside each fissure and
    Mama sat at the table in silence.
    And I don’t know whether it was the ceiling beginning to
    peel or that in ten years we would share the same moon
    hugging ‘round our waist like the tail of a comet,
    but I felt like I wanted to sing, sing
    until my vocal cords were traded for spaghetti
    and dinner was finished in silence

    like the dying of a star
    when nobody’s looking.

    1. Jessenia

      *Agh! forgot the other words. Heres the correction*

      Mama sat at the table in silence,
      Papa round her eating waiting who sat before Mama
      who sat by Joe who melted to the floor who sat next to
      my sister who molted to the wall who sat next to me – the me
      next to Papa eschewing politics and chum next to Mama,
      eyes boring holes into the cement on the table.
      And even though the water lapped at her feet and
      the walls were caving in and even though she
      could hold the white noise in her palm, twist
      it round and place her fingers beside each fissure and
      Mama sat at the table in silence.
      And I don’t know whether it was the ceiling beginning to
      peel or that in ten years we would share the same fertile moon
      hugging ‘round our waist like the tail of a comet,
      but I felt astronomical, like I wanted to sing, sing
      until my vocal cords were traded for spaghetti
      and dinner was finished in silence

      like the dying of a star
      when nobody’s looking.

      1. ppfautsch24

        Jessenia, I loved both versions, well done! I could picture this family sitting at the table, could almost see and sense what they are wearing on their faces and in their clothing & soul.

  13. ppfautsch24

    Translucent Shades of Love
    Laughter’s translucence colors swirl in my heart,
    As see through rain drops pelt our skin as we walk.
    Love’s astronomical pull takes us on its venture to the stars.
    Pleasure at a sky-high premium.
    Growing wild, living, and free; nature’s nectar inside of me.
    Whirligig fertile, safe, and strong. Immunsorbent part of me.
    Shades of love clearly born, that has no doublespeak; can be felt, heard, and seen.
    By: Pamelap

  14. summersetsun

    My Loves Sestina

    We first met in the early translucence
    They said you were never a whirligig
    And your thoughts were profound and astronomical
    That to stay your company required a premium
    And to stay beside you would be fertile
    Yet to never present you with baleful doublespeak

    Never resort or regale with doublespeak
    Dive within her fathoms deep translucence
    And listen to her thoughts; forever fertile
    Love her absolute, devoid of relative whirligig
    Ensure your bond with the thoughtful premium
    With her beside you, ascend astronomical

    She is astronomical!
    She loathes doublespeak!
    She commands the minds premium!
    She grows out from translucence!
    She is never a whirligig!
    She is infallible and fertile!

    To her be fertile
    To her be astronomical
    To her never the whirligig
    To her never the doublespeak
    To her clings a translucence
    To her clasps a premium

    The highest premium
    The most fertile
    The hardest translucence
    The purely astronomical
    The destroyer of doublespeak
    The waylayer of the whirligig

    So now for you I stop life’s whirligig
    For you I hand over your premium
    For you I attack all doublespeak
    For you I make my mind fertile
    For you I pursue the astronomical
    For you I penetrate all translucence.

    No longer is my mind a whirligig, it is now forever fertile
    The premium is paid, I will pursue her astronomical
    Shunning all doublespeak, I will swim to the distant shore of Philosophy’s translucence.

  15. candy

    Moon Garden

    we planted by the
    light of the full moon
    guided by the pearly translucence
    when the astronomical signs
    say earth is the most fertile
    and results premium
    ignoring the whirligig doublespeak
    of scientific gurus

  16. charmuse


    She’s fertile.
    The odds are not astronomical.
    Her youth is at a premium.
    Choices convey without translucence.
    Words divide in doublespeak.
    Opinions spin like a whirligig.

    She’s a whirligig.
    Forward tilts back in doublespeak.
    A blur occurs to taint translucence.
    Convenience has no premium.
    Life twists in ways astronomical.
    A decision is absent yet fertile.

    ~ Charise Hoge

  17. deringer1

    I know they say you’ve a fertile imagination
    but I read what you write and
    it seems like doublespeak to me.

    When I read to the end of your poem
    I’ve been on a whirligig, a confusion
    of ideas mashing around in my head.

    Then I wonder, what did you mean,
    or were you also lost in the dictionary?

  18. James Von Hendy

    Immunosorbent Assay Results: Elimination of the Doublespeak Antigen

    As reported in the most recent issue of Nature,
    we put a premium on the truth. Therefore,
    we are bound to confess to uncertainty
    regarding the application of doublespeak
    antibodies to our substrate
    of choice (duct tape). Firstly, was it
    only in our fertile imagination
    that we’d isolated the doublespeak gene,
    that misshapen double helix,
    its translucence rendering it
    so invisible for so many months
    that when we found it (against
    astronomical odds, it must be added)
    we doubted ourselves even then?

    Secondly, as our reviewers pointed out,
    our chosen substrate itself,
    when applied directly and firmly
    over the egress of our subjects’
    oral cavities, resulted in a profound
    loss not only of subjects’ abilities
    to use doublespeak, but, in fact,
    loss of all comprehensible speech
    in both the control group
    and those who were subjected
    to the antibodied duct tape.

    Finally, as we duly noted
    in the footnotes to our article
    (page 237, note 51), temporary loss
    of doublespeak may be achieved
    by strapping adult subjects
    to a whirligig and spinning them,
    rapidly, for a period of ten minutes
    (or less), ignoring all pleas to stop.

    1. ReathaThomasOakley

      I keep coming back to this absurd scene described so formally. I keep coming back to enjoy everything about it. What a great take on the prompt!

  19. De Jackson

    Fertile Poet Doublespeak

    Breathe deep
    of this well
    -led spill,
    the double
    -speak of sacred spell.

    Change sleep
    to wide-eyed
    chance and keep
    the astro
    -nom (de plume)
    -ical difference.


  20. carollilly

    This one is written for my husband Jim who is currently battling cancer.
    By Carolyn Lilly

    The premium pump pours the chemical
    slowly into his port through the bloodstream
    to attack the fertile cancer growing inside.
    The odds of beating it astronomical,
    the future not even translucent,
    much less transparent,
    his life spins like a whirligig out of control,
    doctortalk seems more like doublespeak
    than anything else,
    but still he must fight.
    Win or lose, this is his life.

    1. ppfautsch24

      Wonderful poem and tribute to what you and your family are standing strong in, during your husband’s fight! Thank you, for sharing and prayers with you all!

  21. Kaulmer

    The Way the Wind Blows…

    Radio on, voices wander
    In one ear and out the other.
    The whirligig in the garden is
    Caught up in a slip stream of air–
    Shifts in its shoes,
    Dances all this way and that.
    Hard to follow the blurring blades –
    Colours tumble into a singular translucence,
    As words flit on by all light,
    Spun on doublespeak – flickering
    Fertile fancies – turn on
    A sad premium, ambiguous
    The cost … possibly, astronomical
    Still the world spins on
    Watches the whirligig in the garden.

    -Krina Ulmer

  22. JRSimmang


    A little boy grew up thinking
    wrenches and hammers were called thingamajigs
    that his mother’s pearl earrings were named whatchamacallits,
    that the premium gas the ‘Rover guzzled poured from the whozawhatsits and damnablethings.

    But when he left for smartpeopleschool,
    what once were whirligigs were then helicopters,
    paps was father
    mams was mother
    sup was dinner.

    He stopped and was caught staring at the embedded statue of the
    Copernican universe laid under the transparent floor, over which he glowered.

    “Impressive, isn’t it,” said one of his pretentious, immunosorbent, vegan, atheistic colleagues, matter-of-factly. “I
    often stare at it, contemplating
    role in society
    and my plans for it.”

    “Jep,” he whistled, feeling not at all astronomical,
    but astronomically small.

    -JR Simmang

  23. G.Wood


    The Dog Days are not over.
    Their astronomical Woof
    not yet begun,
    but at the light on Strickland and Creedmoor,
    the dogs start howling, a whirligig of sirens sounding
    and vehicles slouching to let the EMS through.
    The stink of asphalt,
    the translucent haze of humidity,
    the sweat-soaked stench that sends
    even the smokers back indoors—
    Summer on all fours
    with its hackles up
    and teeth bare.
    A tangible heat the weathermen describe
    in doublespeak—
    a heat event, a heatwave—
    somewhere between Hell and a parade,
    a heat that leeches out the sweetness of spring soil
    and puts a premium on rain.
    Heat like a tethered dog
    fed up with the begging game,
    finally breaking his chain,
    skulking through the streets
    looking for something to chew,
    foaming at the mouth
    when he spots you.

  24. idiaz

    In a mood myself…not necessarily a slaphappy but a mood nonetheless. Luckily I have poetry to pour my “mood” into so I release my inner…well you know..

    Unending Lies and Failed Promises

    Your fertile womb holding the
    next love of my life does not hide
    your doublespeak and empty lies.
    This whirligig ride
    you have put us through has
    cost us an astronomical amount of stress
    and money that doesn’t matter to you.

    Your smoke and mirrors have
    become translucent; showing us
    you have never changed and
    are still a premium coward whose
    supposed plans never include
    a planning process.

    Continue to take the easy coward approach
    as it screws over everyone else except
    the person who matters most to you…
    YOU. Enjoy it now because
    what goes around comes around
    and the next time someone is screwed over
    that person might just be you.

  25. Anthony94

    At Wilson Lake
    Simple as the giant salsify: a few dozen
    whirligigs held together with gossamer
    threads ready to spin in the wind like
    the child’s pinwheel clutched in sticky hand.
    Here the holding is done in the fertile soil
    crumbling from the rock outcroppings and
    last year’s prairie cover, indigo and coneflower
    poppy and mallow, the dropped flowers of yucca.
    She picked wildflowers that morning for her
    wedding bouquet, serendipitous in the few rays
    of sun between showers. Bound them in twine and
    tied up all of her dreams for tomorrow: astronomical
    and yet with their own sweet translucence like the
    vows later spoken by the two of them, no doublespeak,
    just promises for keeping , pressed tightly in her heart.

  26. Tracy Davidson


    He claims he’s a premium stud,
    horny and fertile, yet to my eye
    his output has a translucence
    devoid of the usual whirligig of sperm.
    Chances of conception are astronomical.
    I’m tired of his lies and doublespeak.

  27. Walt Wojtanik


    Immunosorbent – an insoluble surface to which a specific antibody is attached for the purpose of removing the corresponding “antigen” from a solution.

    The odds were astronomical.
    And it doesn’t help that the politicos slide into doublespeak.
    It’s a shame when minds so fertile
    go fallow. Every Dame and fellow pays a premium
    for clear thought. But your can’t buy translucence!
    The nuisance of the Washington whirligig.

    No square dance or hearty jig
    would be any more economical.
    Hysterical in a true sense.
    rarely will they spew a gem you could keep
    stashed somewhere in your cranium!
    Legislation is just another sticky hurdle.

    And those fatheads should wear a girdle,
    to keep their noggins from getting any big-
    ger. Maybe a jigger of valium
    (or thallium) would be a comical
    way to approach things if you truly seek
    leaders that are less dense!

    Get off the damn fence
    and choose a side to hide on. Go ahead and turtle,
    and keep your big fat beak
    shut while the glut of vitriol spewed digs
    itself a shallow grave! Save your plugged nickels
    so you could at least by yourself a new tedium!

    Go big, or go medium,
    but take a damn chance and dance
    until it tickles.
    And remember, trying to understand them is futile,
    rooting around like pigs
    is where they lose their mystique.

    Yikes! It appears I’ve joined in the doublespeak,
    and my words are never at a premium!
    Head spinning like a whirligig,
    and rose colored glasses make translucence
    a nuisance of the highest order! But when my thoughts are fertile,
    my poetics become astronomical!

    Premium manure can make one more fertile,
    but seeing through the translucence of its “fog” is like a spin in the whirligig!
    Comically astronomical, so to (double)speak!

  28. Doakley

    4 word limerick

    When Johnny went to college, with opportunities astronomical,
    premium classes were the focus, but Johnny’s was anatomical,
    in the tavern he would dance a jig,
    He took the campus like a whirligig,
    but in the end his parents said, “no doublespeak, this just isn’t feasible!”

  29. Keith Welch

    tongue lashing like a whirligig
    my doublespeak is astronomical!
    fertile my imagination!
    febrile my self-control!
    I toss the mundane quotidian
    from the open window of the
    automobile of my throat!
    Useless words are
    Lost in the roaring wind of
    No brakes! NO BRAKES!

  30. ReathaThomasOakley

    Whirligigs and broken dreams

    Perhaps I’m guilty of doublespeak
    I who planted, to the horror of my
    Southern mother, pink plastic flamingos
    in Montana flower beds, but I am saddened
    by the sight of neglected kinetic art
    in tiny yards where space is at a premium.

    What fertile imaginations envisioned
    foot-high birds with flapping wings
    little men with waving arms pinwheel forms to
    catch the breeze and imagined the results
    as elevating lives to the astronomical?

    Colors are now faded straight forms bent
    birds lie face down in the dirt.

    Was there no one left to tend the dream
    to understand the need for beauty
    translucent through a front room’s dusty window?

  31. Jane Shlensky

    Real Estates
    House after house is fertile with promise,
    “a premium buy,” the agent says,
    quoting astronomical prices
    that even dickering won’t impact,
    numbers rising like heat shimmering
    from tarmac. Never never shop
    for houses in the summer when
    properties are at their worst.
    We hear this advice wearily echoed
    by the sweating realtor in love
    with beaches and cool springs.

    Her tone is polite but tense,
    precarious as a cat on a fence,
    sick of our wavering expressions,
    our “this is not it” apologies,
    her clear implication being Now,
    act Now, her pitch the usual
    doublespeak of house and home,
    existence and life, imagination
    translucent as sunbeams piping
    hot with possibilities that don’t
    live on this thirsty ground.

    Her last resort sits empty and hot,
    July burning away any pretense,
    its entrances oddly surprising,
    its rooms a random whirligig
    of discovery, a space as confused
    as we are, amusing and complex
    as fire-ants’ burrows escaping
    into a long deep garden, a place
    where we can be lost and found,
    by and by. “Hmph!” she mutters,
    glad to be rid of two oddities
    claiming her time, the property
    and us. “No accounting for taste!”
    We drive a hard bargain.

    1. PressOn

      This delighted me twice; once for the story, superb as usual, and once for nailing the real-estate agent. Often, I’ve wondered whom they are agents for.

    2. idiaz

      Oh this hit home for me! Dealt with a real estate agent like her (in a man form). Ended up not liking his options and he dropped us. I love the lines “hot with possibilities that don’t live on this thirsty ground” and “July burning away any pretense”.

  32. Doakley

    Six Words One Sentence

    Poetry, words at a premium,
    not to doublespeak but,
    spewed forth from fertile minds
    with astronomical imagery,
    phrases spinning like whirligigs,
    their translucence visions
    forming in the most immunosorbent
    reader’s thoughts.

  33. Doakley

    6 Word Scavenger Hunt

    I would have won
    the scavenger hunt
    if not for the astronomical
    final task of locating a
    fertile whirligig with
    a premium on translucence
    to verify its condition.

    I thought the scavenger
    hunt’s instructions to be
    doublespeak at first
    but realized whirligigs
    may not be immunosorbent
    and options could actually exist
    for whirligig fertilization.

  34. Patricia A. Hawkenson

    Whether Vain

    I wake today
    with the seed
    of a fertile memory
    and hope
    the morning’s
    translucent sun
    will dance
    its laughter
    upon my tears
    like a whirligig
    and lift it
    as leaves
    in an October
    upward to kiss
    the branch that
    wisely let go
    yet the haunting
    dreams that colored
    my damp pillow
    and clung the bits
    of mixed emotions
    into my tousled hair
    can’t be brushed

  35. PeanuttyO

    Save Yourself

    Premium coffee and seats and places and things
    only and all that you will accept, paying
    astronomical prices with money and reputation

    Your mind is fertile, you boast time and again
    A breeding ground for all things that matter
    namely yourself, your things and big words

    Be careful though; your translucence is showing
    You and your doublespeak are spinning a web, round
    and round like a whirligig. Your great ego is trapped

    Reflections that are perfect and great egos are beautiful
    to those who have them; a disease to those with modesty
    The modest have the immunosorbent solution

    Fighting arrogance with humanity, one big word at a time
    But you’re smart, smarter than me, so you will figure
    it out in time to save yourself. Won’t you?

  36. Jean Kay

    Today’s Adventure

    We will explore a back-road, fertile valley
    with astronomical views
    as translucent rivers reflect open skies.
    We doublespeak about mountains –
    majestic, strong, solid, powerful,
    or hurdles, challenges, blockages.
    My camera and I become a whirligig-
    clicking in every direction
    as I capture premium views.

    Jean Kay

  37. taylor graham


    Like the old days, mowing meadow
    once fertile – those solitary but not lonely
    walks swinging the scythe in equal swaths,
    a dance of curves and lengthening reveries
    under the swoop of swallows, whirligig
    insects too quick to name, translucence
    of sun on ripening seedheads; hay-raking
    the windrows. Stoop of hawk, furtive
    flight of the black-bibbed towhee.
    Today the sky deliberates, clouds over.
    Time’s always at premium with weather,
    the doublespeak of rain – will it ruin
    my season’s work? Will it save the land
    for future? Birds disappear
    bright to dark like astronomical portents.
    Incandescent lance above the opposite
    ridge. Listen for thunder.

  38. PressOn


    When fertile dragonflies dance, their astronomical whirligig
    puts a premium on translucence; they hover without cover
    as light limns through them, with them, and in them: God’s doublespeak.

    1. Sarah Metzler

      Hey PressOn,
      How interesting that your poem has great “succinctness, sound, sense, and rhythm!” Not to mention beauty, transcendence, playfulness, haiku-mindedness, and astronomical poeticality. And what a clever idea for incorporating the chosen words. Keep on poeming, poet!

  39. annell

    Life at a Premium

    life at a premium      children with guns      would be in the grade school

    country at war     fertile ground watered with the blood of its’ people     young and old

    the whirligig spins in the wind      made by hand      in simpler days

    the morning quiet      everything still as if underwater    or drowned in resin

    i hear your lyrical voice     you say you sheltered eight against the storm

    your life full     children, grandchildren and great grandchildren

    make a cup of tea     make a pot    make it two

    the storm passed without harm      the morning after      bright

    first of summer      the second without you      life goes on

    candidates announce      a long hot election season     expected


  40. Nancy Posey


    With travel my norm and leisure at a premium,
    I choose this year instead to travel back to a place
    that has been lost to me, except in dreams,

    the house abandoned now, the barn collapsed
    upon itself, the herd put out to pasture long ago.
    I’ll pack a lunch, a quilt washed soft and faded.

    I know just where I’ll rest my head, the earth
    still bearing indentations of my former self,
    that child now grown to man. Eyes closed,

    I’ll watch the flickering shadows as I lie there
    underneath the oldest maple tree, bathed
    in the heat and light of the sun’s translucence.

    I’ll feel the gentle tickle of the seedlings
    as they whirligig from overhead, waiting
    to be whisked away on a breeze, the DNA

    of this old farm encoded in their flight, far
    away to some other fertile fields, perhaps
    a place where boys and girls still play.

  41. mitchsteve


    Careful of everything that passes between us,
    our separate histories (and that of the hand-off)
    occupy these rooms as a fertile translucence;
    and an unsaid fear of incantation
    forges our own brand of doublespeak,
    makes us faltering in casual conversation
    and stutter, primed as a whirligig


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