2019 April PAD Challenge: Day 13

For today’s prompt, write a view poem. Wherever you’re at, you have a view: maybe of a river or sunset. Maybe of a cubicle or a copy machine. Even the blind have a view of darkness, nothingness, or some other -ness. And that’s just being literal, because everyone has views on sports, politics, poetry, etc.

Quick reminder: I know I kind of opened a possible can of worms by opening this prompt to “views” on various things. This is a just a firm reminder to be respectful of each other on here, especially when it comes to personal attacks. I don’t like being a bouncer on this site, but I’ve done it in the past–so no trolling or bullying please.

*****

Poem Your Days Away!

Online poetry prompts are great! But where can you get your poem fix when you unplug? The answer is the Smash Poetry Journal, by Robert Lee Brewer.

This book collects 125 poetry prompts from the Poetic Asides blog, gives poets plenty of room to write poems, and a lot of other great poetic information. Perfectly sized to carry in a backpack or purse, you can jot down ideas for poems as you’re waiting in line for a morning coffee or take it to the park for a breezy afternoon writing session (or on a bus, at a laundromat, or about anywhere else you can imagine–except under water, unless you’re in a submarine or a giant breathable plastic bubble).

Anyway, it’s great for prompting poems, and you should order a copy today. (Maybe order an extra one as a gift for a friend.)

Click to continue.

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Here’s my attempt at a View Poem:

“Windows”

I always think it’s weird
to have a window in a bathroom,
especially next to a toilet,
as if I need a nice view
while taking care of my business,
and I’m sorry if that’s too personal,
but that’s exactly my point:
Why put a window in a bathroom,
especially when you consider
all you’re looking out means
somebody else could be looking in?

*****

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He really does think bathroom windows are weird. Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

203 thoughts on “2019 April PAD Challenge: Day 13

  1. Avatarmaxie409

    Backward View

    Looking through the rearview mirror
    was not how I planned to spend the day
    but the body memory kicked in
    before the mind could catch up.
    I blamed my malaise on the weather
    and dressed in grey to match the day.
    The cat couldn’t comfort me, my coffee
    tasted bitter, things broke at my touch
    and still I couldn’t figure it out
    until I glanced at the newspaper.
    The date brought it all back:
    the delirious drive through the night,
    the Settling of the Deceased’s Affairs,
    the constant biting of my tongue.
    Then back and back my mind went
    to happier times and childhood games
    and I whispered your name out loud,
    told you how much I missed you.
    Maybe tomorrow I will feel better
    but even viewed from a safe distance
    losing you still hurts.

  2. Avatartripoet

    Hillbilly Doggie

    sitting patiently
    in a red pickup truck

    His hair waving
    in the Branson breeze

    Waits to see
    what treasures

    his master finds
    in the Thrift Store

    Maybe one for him,
    If he doesn’t bark

    Obedient
    like a well-mannered
    child

    Stationed
    like a small bird
    on a perch.

    Oh what a view!

  3. Avatarskiiru

    FROM WHERE I SIT

    the ground is greening fast and gossiping trees bustle above.
    Twitching its insouciant tuft, a grey squirrel scrabbles for harvest
    in the wake of the blue jays, spring’s bright sentries, now scattered to unknown homes.
    I can’t see the first wild hyacinth but I know it’s there,
    next to the lavender allium waiting to make its slow slide skyward.
    A rare car whispers by.
    It is almost enough to startle me back to
    the grimy window, the strewn bag, the
    fresh blank screen, waiting
    for its own bounty.

  4. AvatarLinda Voit

    Black Hole – First Photo

    An international collaboration
    of just over two hundred scientists –
    forty of them female – brought us
    the first photographic proof
    of what Einstein’s equations
    suggested and what he was
    loathe to believe – that when
    too much matter is crammed into one
    place, the force of gravity becomes
    so overwhelming that the place
    becomes an eternal trap where
    space and time disappear forever –
    a black hole.

    It appears to be true, and April 10, 2019,
    the whole world got a glimpse of a black hole
    in Messier 87 – or M87 for short –
    a huge galaxy in the constellation Virgo.

    You know how your vacation photos
    of the sea or mountains or a sunrise
    don’t do them justice? Well, the photo
    of this earth-shattering phenomena
    may be best described as an image
    of a harmless blaze-glazed doughnut
    that would make you hungry if you
    did not know that if you got too close
    to the doughnut, the hole would pull
    you in and never, ever spit you out.

  5. AvatarMET

    My View of My Forest

    In summer the big trees
    Have dark green leaves
    That rustle when the wind blows
    And the air is dry…
    But when a storm arrives…
    The leaves are tossed
    In an amusement park ride
    As the huge trees bend
    And shed leaves in the storm…

    In fall the leaves turn
    Yellows, gold rose, red,
    And red black…
    I see the squirrels hustling
    To bury their winter stash…
    The vultures gather to fly south,
    And other birds in droves stop
    For a day eating what they can
    Before they take flight south…

    Winter brings the gray bark
    Enclosing me… seeming to take
    Inch by inch steps toward my home
    Until it is a sea of greyness
    From the darkest of greys
    To the pale gray of maples.
    The longer the winter lingers
    The more enclosed I feel…
    If it snows… I find relieve
    For I love to walk in a forest in snow…

    But spring is the best…
    Tiny flowers appear, and
    Leaves begin hour by hour
    To unfold and while they do
    They go from pink to pale moss green.
    These are tender leaves
    It will take weeks for them to become tough
    And gradually darken to make their food and
    To survive the summer sun.
    The sky seems bluer against the green of the forest…
    The trunks of the trees
    No longer seem menacing,
    Instead welcoming the daylight…
    Despite the pollen, I
    Rejoice in the spring.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 13, 2019

  6. AvatarSharon

    SPRINGTIME
    Springtime in northern New Mexico,
    and what do I see out my window?
    A landscape bright white with snow!
    It’s a New Mexico springtime glow,
    – so far, the wind’s decided not to blow –
    in fact we see our tulips’ colors show,
    it’s springtime in northern New Mexico.

  7. AvatarNick

    Her View

    From her view
    The world was how she felt,
    with Heroin and Meth on board,
    her view was not her own.
    From her view
    she no longer had a tent after the
    the police made their every 3 day
    sweep of where she lived.
    From her view
    the 750 ml of whiskey/day was
    something she could no longer afford.
    & how about from Gods view,
    might she be closer to the one who loves
    her, having known what it is to surrender
    to something more then her own will.
    How about the view from the outside
    “Oh she made her choices,” but the
    outside wasn’t there when she cried
    a long time, and found God inside.

  8. AvatarAnthony94

    Thank You George Eastman

    I view these pictures
    transmitted between cities

    a hefty little person
    dropped into our lives
    as if blown in on April winds

    expand the view
    to hover over
    …fingernails,
    …eyebrows,
    …fierce frown
    …blossoms of ears
    …sturdy arms and legs
    …a crown of straight black hair
    so much framed
    by camera’s lens

    images far beyond Eastman’s dreams
    130 years ago, his vision helping send
    these snapshots born of new technologies
    so that this baby’s world expands
    long before I’ve even held his hand.

  9. Avatarjhmaloney

    How’s the View?

    Although you know that what you’re seeing
    is only an illusion,
    designed to create a potent mix
    of chaos and confusion,
    it assaults your sensibilities,
    and much to your dismay,
    you find that it’s quite difficult
    to simply look away.

  10. AvatarEarl Parsons

    The View

    Daily they dredge
    Daily they deceive
    Daily they demean
    All that is good

    Daily they complain
    Daily they confuse
    Daily they create
    Angst and disdain

    Daily they whine
    Daily they fret
    Daily they lie
    Without caring

    Agenda driven
    Without compassion
    Without remorse
    Heartless

    The View

  11. Avatarfjtassone2

    Devil’s Deal Magic: a #writephoto #TankaProse

    Does your life mean so little to you? Would you truly surrender it for fortune and fame?

    Go down to the crossroads, then. Look back on the road from which you’ve come. Look ahead to the path before you. Glance right and left. Then straight ahead, once more.

    The verdant field, the copse of trees, the distant town, the faraway heights of a yet unseen city. All yours for the taking once you make your trade.

    Come back to the crossroads at midnight. Wait there, guitar in your hand, clasped by the neck. Footsteps will come behind you, then stop. Without turning around, give the guitar to the unseen one behind you. A chord will sound, then another. Then your mysterious benefactor will return that guitar to you.

    And every chord and blues riff you play after will entrance any that listen. Record labels will fall over themselves to secure deals with you. Concerts will overflow, and fights will break out among the scalpers’ clientale. The fortune and fame you sought will be yours.

    All it costs you is your life. The very essence of who you truly are, whittled down by the very fruits of your own willing trade. Until, in the end, nothing remains.

    Least of all, yourself.

    gathered clouds

    withered grass rippling

    in the wind

    the last, empty grasp

    of a dying hand

    https://frankjtassone.com/2019/04/13/devils-deal-magic-a-writephoto-tankaprose/

  12. AvatarSarahLeaSales

    The Speechwriter

    Her view of herself was such
    that she felt most comfortable
    when she stood behind
    her words.
    His view of himself was such
    that he felt most comfortable
    when everyone stood in front
    to hear him speak those words.
    She felt like a silent ventriloquist,
    a Wizard of Oz who made
    the dummy come alive,
    even as he felt like he was
    the ideal receptacle
    for such pep rally rah-rahing
    that made them believe that if he won,
    they all won.

  13. AvatarAsha1000

    2019 Hurricane Season Forecast

    Viewed from April, it’s a normal
    Atlantic Hurricane Basin,
    spawning mere twelve to fourteen storms.
    A strong El Niño will limit
    fertility of the season.

    Still…

    On this rock in the shallow sea,
    my nerves are frayed and stripped,
    like cascarilla bark,
    that flavors Campari liqueur,
    cocktail I drink to change
    my point of view.

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  14. AvatarKM

    From the Kitchen Window

    Every family has their ghost stories.
    My parents often talked about their first house together.
    “Haunted,” said my Mom. “Rundown,” said my dad.
    Cold breezes in the middle of rooms,
    creaking and clacking from the attic when they tried to sleep,
    and that feeling Mom couldn’t quell, an unexplainable, eerie
    presence hovering behind her whenever she stood at the kitchen sink.

    She’d stare out the window while she washed vegetables or dishes,
    focusing on how quickly the neighbour’s sunflowers grew, watching
    kids play ball hockey on the road, waiting for my Dad to pull up
    in his Chevy, come inside for supper, ask her about her day.
    Waiting for him to convince her of her own vivid imagination.

    Then the day they returned after two weeks away.
    Pulled up to see a lawn in need of trimming, newspapers stacked on the step,
    a few puddles offering proof of recent rain.
    When their eyes seemed lured toward that square kitchen window,
    they saw the curtains pulled back by some unseen hand,
    then a swish of movement as the curtains quickly fell closed.
    “You had to have seen that,” Mom said, frightened but relieved to have something
    not reasoned away by a trick of the eye, old pipes, or a brain set spinning by loneliness.
    “I did,” Dad replied, voice nearly a whisper.
    “Guess it was wondering when we’d finally be home.”

    – Kim Mannix
    http://www.makesmesodigress.com

  15. AvatarJanet Rice Carnahan

    A LOFTY PERSPECTIVE OF LOVE– A Sonnet

    If a quality present is for me
    Very best gift I could truly receive
    A high up pure view of a turquoise sea
    Full of all the wonder I could conceive
    Or bring me to a rapid water fall
    Let me view the giant wet splash it makes
    On a mountain, let me hear a hawk’s call
    Until the tallest golden Aspen shakes
    In winter walk me by the dark teal stream
    Surrounded by the freshly fallen snow
    Give me the pure beauty of that clear dream
    It’s an awesome wonder I’ll always know
    I will thank you deeply for every view
    Hugging the best last because it is you

  16. AvatarJolly2

    A UNIQUE HERITAGE
    (A view of colonisation)
    By John Yeo

    Time is like many grains of sand
    Each grain is an aeon of a life-span,
    our land is old and contains
    Our heritage, our past, our forefathers remains.

    We befriended and welcomed you here,
    You shared our land and resources.
    We welcomed your views and new ways,
    A surrender in peace when you took control.

    You thrive and get rich from our land,
    Our nation has customs, a glorious past.
    We worship our Gods, our dreams are real
    We have mysterious age-old ways and beliefs.

    Please respect our customs, enjoy our ways
    Do not claim our art or our heritage
    Respect our culture, it is all we have left
    To sustain us and pass on, for our children.

    © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved.

  17. Avatarjamuckley

    The View from the Kitchen Table

    The view from the kitchen table
    The world outside is white
    Dusted by last night’s snowfall
    Crystal frosting on filling trees
    A blanket spread over the lawn
    Birds chirping from their newly decorated perch
    The gray sky encloses the new landscape
    Changed overnight

  18. AvatarMMC

    Thirteen Ways of Looking at My Neighborhood
    After Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”

    1. Dog walkers early in the morning.
    2. Dog walkers late in the evening.
    3. Moms with strollers in mid-morning.
    4. Teens with scooters and earbuds in the afternoon.
    5. Joggers anytime, serious, determined.
    6. SUV’s trawling the streets, wary of little ones.
    7. Pickup trucks parked in every third driveway.
    8. Lawn services cluttering the air with machine noise.
    9. Elders raking their lawns with old-fashioned rakes.
    10. Fed-Ex trucks absolving themselves with packages.
    11. Smell of grass seed sprinkled across spring lawns
    12. Shadow and sun playing hide-and-seek through the leaves.
    13. Oak, elm, ash, and maple towering over all.

  19. AvatarBill Kirk

    PAD Day 13:

    Looking Back From Beginning
    By Bill Kirk

    In the beginning, there was the word,
    Soon followed by another
    And, hopefully, another until
    Words in their sum total
    Became the Work completed.
    But, then, what—
    After the Work was all done, that is?

    As for all such works then and since,
    Would the thing in all its completeness
    Then become static and unchanging
    In its content and its various shades of meaning?

    Or would the completion of the thing
    Be only its beginning, with all manner of
    Interpretation and wondering
    About what the author meant
    Still in front of it, waiting to be discovered
    And rediscovered with each new reading
    By each new reader from inception
    Until all readers and readings are done?

    How many differing views of the
    Original work will be formed and shared?
    What will the impact of the author’s work be
    As the views of the work change over time,
    Relative to current context?

    Will the original setting and social context
    Be factored into each newly emerging view
    Or simply be cast aside as irrelevant?
    Can the work and its meaning and truth survive,
    Far outlasting the darts and arrows of critics
    Sometimes more attuned to testing than truth?

    In the beginning,
    When word soon follows word,
    And form takes shape
    And ideas beget substance,
    Should such things as the unpredictable views
    Of all those not yet born
    Be of even the slightest concern or consequence?
    If they were, why would any writer
    Even bother to write?

  20. AvatarVince Gotera

    Robert, this riffs off your bathroom window example poem.

    Devil’s Piss

    So there you are, taking a leak,
    as they say, and looking out
    that silly window, it’s first thing
    in the morning, a sleepy moment,
    when you realize the view is not
    the backyard, which needs mowing,
    but rather another bathroom, but
    with black walls — is that stone? —
    and it’s like a mysterious mirror,
    ’cause there’s another dude standing
    there, undoubtedly doing his business,
    looking at you in equal surprise,
    his eyebrows raising up, his horns
    little bumps — wait, horns? — and
    his skin a kind of faint red, like
    a deep blush all over. Then you blink
    and the backyard is back, which is
    a good thing, though it still needs
    mowing — damn! — and you can’t help
    wondering, the liquid that other guy
    was spilling, would it be 190 proof?

    —Vince Gotera

    This merges Robert’s “view poem” prompt with the NaPoWriMo prompt for a poem on the mysterious or spooky.

    Here’s my blog post on this poem: https://vincegotera.blogspot.com/2019/04/day-13-napowrimo-poem-day-2019.html

  21. AvatarMichelle Hed

    The Rainbow

    Not out my window
    not out my door
    but inside a room
    across the floor

    there is a rainbow
    a palette of color,
    where the art will grow
    like a garden in snow

    all year long
    the rainbow stays,
    inspiration a song
    playing the hues

    each step a phrase
    in a process
    to fill the days
    and wash away

    the stress
    and feel renewed
    with each stroke of finesse
    a rainbow.

  22. AvatarAled Harris

    “Specs”

    Shortsightedness, an evil curse,
    of blurs and squints which seems much worse

    compounded by forgetfulness
    and a tendency to cause a mess.

    Half the time I forget my specs;
    I’m in the car and they’re sitting next
    to the dog. On the sofa. At home.

    And if, by luck, I have them near
    the chances are that they’re all smeared

    so wearing them’s an act absurd;
    my view through them is still so blurred.

  23. AvatarJanetRuth

    On Spite of Viewpoints and Points of View

    Our views are shaped by what we see
    What we are taught, or not
    The dynamics of family
    The status of our lot

    The things we have, the things we lack
    The wars we win and lose
    What we believe, twixt white and black
    The attitudes we choose

    Where side by side the whole world wide
    In all we see and do
    More than city or countryside
    Will shape our points of view

    For all the differences twixt
    Creed, culture, class and breed
    Still keeps our flesh-and-blood-forms fixed
    In universal need

    …of food and water’s sustenance
    Where Hunger carves its hole
    Of love and respect’s reverence
    To feed the heart and soul

    © Janet Martin

  24. AvatarJoseph Hesch

    The View From My Window

    I see greens (a few) grays (a lot)
    and shiny cars outside my window.
    Duplex houses in varied earth tones
    standing cheek by jowl
    chain the cul de sac beneath
    high, hazy clouds diluting
    the morning blue sky.
    That’s what I see.
    That’s my view.

    Yours would be different, even if,
    right this instant, you sat
    in my spot by the window.
    You might see the tan patches
    and brown mud splotches
    where I see grass,
    see the dirty pickup truck,
    the white sticks of winter’s
    snow plow reflectors still standing
    in doubt this Spring day will last.
    But you wouldn’t see my view
    unless I told you, and I wouldn’t see yours.

    That’s why I like art,
    almost any art.
    It speaks the truth of
    the artist’s view of her subject.
    And I can choose to listen, read, observe,
    feel
    what she says she sees, as she sees it.
    Or I can turn away and
    not pay attention to it at all.
    Just as you can skip on by
    my side of the window, the town,
    the country, the world.
    And I can skip by yours.
    I wish life was more like that.
    I don’t need to know if you do.

  25. Avatarkhoward

    A mountain I climbed to the top.
    To see what I can see “ want more coffee”
    The waiter asked me, my day dream leaves
    I get up and out to my car I go.

    Rain drops fall, my shoulders get wet.
    The door of my car isn’t open just yet.
    Rain drops fall my keys do too.
    Now I’m soaked through and through.

    The wipers are on, my eyes are a blur.
    I pull out and start to drive, lightning falls.
    Thunder is felt near not far, my ears ring.
    This storm does stink and not literally.

    Pull over, pull over my inner said.
    The storm raged on as some drove on.
    My wipers work in rain and sunshine.
    So I wasn’t some, but the all that stopped.

    That cup of coffee was good, I drank it fast.
    The storm had no coffee so it was slow to pass.
    My dreams are vivid, as vivid as I see.
    Dreams and coffee don’t mix, a storm might brew.

  26. AvatarBruce Niedt

    Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write about something “mysterious and spooky” (for Day Thirteen?). Here’s a macabre-humor poem about the view from the window of a famous movie character:

    Six More Weeks of Zombies

    Weatherman Phil Connors wakes up
    on one of those time-loop mornings
    and looks out his window,
    but this time something is different –
    instead of townspeople bustling
    through the snow to get to Gobblers Knob,
    they’re milling aimlessly, shuffling
    with blank lifeless faces,
    and someone’s already eaten all the officials
    and Punxsutawney Phil,
    in Groundhog Day of the Dead.

    1. AvatarBruce Niedt

      Slight rewrite:

      Six More Weeks of Zombies

      Weatherman Phil Connors wakes up
      on one of those time-loop mornings
      and looks out his window,
      but this time something is different –
      instead of townspeople bustling
      down the street to the festivities,
      they’re milling aimlessly, shuffling
      with blank lifeless faces,
      and someone’s eaten all the officials
      and Punxsutawney Phil,
      as “Gobblers Knob” takes on
      a whole new meaning
      in Groundhog Day of the Dead.

  27. Avatarannell

    A Clear Statement

    View from my window
    Is Southeast
    This morning light grey
    The lightly snow-covered mountains
    Silent

    Across the room
    The windows reveal
    A view of the Northwest
    The morning light appears brighter

    Almost a glare on this grey mourning
    There are breaks in the clouds
    The clear blue New Mexico sky shows through
    Perhaps a promise of a sunny day, after all

    The morning light, in its stillness, sets the mood
    But I have no time for moody mornings
    My work waits
    And I have plans for the day

    Like writing a poem
    I set the structure
    And then I go to work
    Trying to “get it right”

    Making clear e exactly what I want to say
    It is the same for a painting
    Yesterday I tried everything I know
    Today I will try something else

    Continually making changes
    Until I am satisfied
    I have done what I can
    What I am saying is clear

    March 13, 2019

  28. Avatartrishwrites

    7165 feet
    Atop Whistler Mountain

    When I step onto the mountain top
    I reclaim my spirit
    Riding the tail of a windswept cloud

    There on the edge of the world
    Never have I felt so small
    and yet so fortunate to be in this
    Space
    Where landslides and glaciers
    Carved a place
    for you and me

    Deeper Into the wild
    I go
    Where silence
    is thicker and more absolute
    Than anything I’ve known
    With each step power surges
    through my veins
    even as I’m reminded
    I’m one small dot in this glorious
    universe we call home

  29. AvatarDarlene Franklin

    The View Through My Door

    I see doors into other rooms
    Where other people live lives of quiet desperation
    A woman hoots for attention because her faint voice quavers
    The institutional atmosphere only slightly helped by
    A bright yellow plastic Easter basket hanging on a pale green wall
    Above a brown handrail
    Useful for propelling myself down the hall
    Blue-and-white linoleum floor
    Easy to walk on and roll over
    Sound comes in waves
    Silence at meal times
    Residents and staff alike in the dining room
    The murmur of the television in the living room
    Laughter and cries
    Voices raised in hymns of praise
    Pills popping out of medication cards
    Conversation—anger, happy, involved
    Carts of every kind rumble by
    Medicine—except when I need it
    Laundry—but not always with all my clothes
    Trash, the stench of urine unavoidable
    Cleaning—thankfully
    A moving billboard in constant motion
    Except at mealtimes and at night
    Workers wearing surgical masks
    Who’s sick? Us or t hem?
    We pass around illness like candy
    Ambulence drivers and gurneys high in the air
    Feet that walk on by even when my light is in
    More black faces t han I’d ever lived with before
    Hair red or black or even blonde
    Short, tall, happy, sullen—people
    Woman hiding her face beneath her parka hood
    Men with straggly hair and back braces
    Residents walking up and down the halls
    Determined to get better
    More men than women
    Residents disoriented and fearful
    Mostly women
    They sometimes cross my threshold and start crying
    Staff and residents who call out a greeting as they pass by
    I may feel lonely but I’m never alone
    And I don’t just mean God
    The view through my door is never dull

  30. AvatarMargot Suydam

    Mysterious Takeaway

    You told me how you love to cook
    the same way I do just because
    we both feel the presence
    of the one gone

    We both take to quiet solitude
    lost in mystery books and films
    the stories we tell ourselves
    amid the smells of Chinese

    chicken or eggplant ratatouille
    chopping vegetables and sipping
    wine feeling the presence
    of the one gone

    a fine friend found lounging
    on the couch in the next
    room waiting for our return
    ready to eat what we’ve made

    Today I am cooking and thinking
    of you because you are now
    the one gone

    No longer at the other end
    of a phone call, the line gone dead.

  31. Avatartimphilippart

    POV

    From my point of view
    good hands cradle our country,
    the executive branch is unbreakable,
    climate change is the hobgoblin of hysterical minds,
    America has never been greater,
    then, I am blind in one eye and
    can’t see out of the other.

  32. AvatarPressOn

    THE VIEWING

    I visited the funeral home,
    an odd place, bright and airy.
    “We are alone; his spirit has flown,”
    they said about my old pal, Larry.

    I looked at the casket, closed up tight;
    old Larry has vanity.
    His spirit has flown? We are alone?
    Somewhere in here is insanity.

    I listened as the sermon began;
    the minister said to all,
    “We are alone; his spirit has flown.”
    I smirked at the pastor, and his gall.

    What right did he have, to say such words?
    I’ve heard more sense from a cow.
    His spirit has flown? We are alone?
    Bollocks, I thought; I saw him just now.

  33. Avatartaylor graham

    COLORS OF FALL

    I came with nippers and loppers to deal with a pile of slash. A great live-oak had fallen in storm. Among lush, spring-green the pile was branches brown and gray, some covered with frilly white lichen, a few dull yellow leaves still clinging. I pulled a branch off the pile – surprise! Three wild turkey eggs. How clever the hen, to hide her nest under a slash pile. How crude of me to uncover it. I laid the branch back, carefully, to keep a camera-lens view. Each day, another egg – and then I had to miss a day. When I came back, nothing! What beast had raided the nest?

    brown and frilled with gold,
    warmly spread over her eggs:
    camouflage turkey

  34. Avatarjakecosmos

    April 13, Incheon Beach Waltz Wave Poem
    beach
    near home
    now
    sun set
    The West Sea
    Incheon
    sea
    Spring Time
    night sun set
    over the sea
    Sun goes down
    near by
    beach
    water
    waves come in
    over beach
    view
    is great
    nice

  35. AvatarLinda Rhinehart Neas

    Wrote this a while ago, but felt it spoke to this prompt so I wanted to share. Blessings!

    Kitchen Window

    She stood here, hands red from washing,
    like her eyes from crying secret tears.
    She stood here, looking beyond my panes
    into a world that fueled her desires and dreams.
    She stood here, until the day she didn’t –
    the day she walked through the pain into the sunlight.

  36. AvatarRJ Clarken

    Beyond the Pretty

    “The most fatal illusion is the settled point of view. Since life is growth and motion, a fixed point of view kills anybody who has one.” ~ Brooks Atkinson

    His original name had other worth,
    but the current one reflected his heart;
    identity not apparent at start,
    and that made all the difference on this earth
    when defying expectations from birth.
    Once, he was thought to be oh-so-pretty.
    Some found his truth to be far too gritty
    and that made all the difference on this earth
    when defying expectations from birth.
    Not seeing this for oneself is heartbreak:
    tragedy borne of too much that’s opaque
    and that made all the difference on this earth.
    His original name had other worth
    and that made all the difference on this earth.

    ###
    For Charlie (1999 – 2019)

  37. AvatarDaniel Paicopulos

    Would One See Joy

    One poem for one in angst
    One dollar at one store
    One can to one food bank
    One card to one sick child
    One call to one official
    One book to one small town
    One well for one sick village
    One brick for one new dike
    One shot for one new life
    One step is all one needs
    One Kiva for one world
    One peace at a time

  38. AvatarPowerUnit

    We took the kids up to the top of the hill
    by the old transmitting station to watch
    the northern lights make a rare appearance,
    but we only saw stars and listened to
    crickets and the kids in the back whining
    about how nothing we ever do interests them.

    Now when they come to our house
    we sit quietly and listen to their stories,
    how if only the wrongs would listen to
    their rights. Diminishing. We ponder together
    our separate dreams, somehow in synch,
    to visit the Rockies, climb a mountain
    on the back of a horse, admire the
    ranges of barriers to expansion, limits
    to our own migration and progress,
    reminisce on how things might have been
    and not really caring where things might go.

  39. AvatarDarlene Franklin

    The View from the Rock
    (Psalm 31)

    I’m hidden in the shelter of your presence
    You are my cloak, protecting me from danger
    Your mercy comforts me when I’m in death’s presence
    I need your strength renewed in legs and fingers
    My future’s in your hands, my eternal God
    I will not fear, you rescue me without fail
    I’m chastened and preserved by your strong rod
    You lavish goodness great and vast on my sails

  40. AvatarMichele Brenton

    A history of windows into the world.

    The one where the mountain
    always watched every
    move I made like a
    hovering parent.

    The one of a sleepy graveyard
    gentle, quiet, peaceful
    with trees reaching down
    to stroke the sleeping.

    The one of the motorway
    below with cars like ants
    zipping alongside the railway track,
    all that momentum!

    The one where goats foraged
    on a scrubby thyme-covered
    hillside while cicadas filled the air
    with their own version of music.

    The one I have now
    of infinite possibilities
    backlit and beckoning
    for me to switch it on.

  41. AvatarMET

    Living with Eternity in View

    In this life I have encountered
    Those that do great harm to others…
    Treating those people
    With love…
    Has not been easy for me…
    But yet I was called
    To treat them with love…
    Even when he was tempted
    Jesus did not repay evil with evil…
    Even when he knew
    That Judas and his love of silver
    Would betray him…
    He treated him with kindness
    He treated him with love…

    Why does my heart
    Go to evil thoughts?
    I asked to the night
    For I wanted to know.
    How could I prevent myself
    From thinking hurtful thoughts
    At the man tailgating me,
    Or the names I have been called
    Because I presented a different perspective?
    I know I would never say or write them, but
    Jesus, you said my thoughts matter?

    I looked out my window that morning
    And felt the joy of my forest
    With the new leaves growing
    So fast that woods
    Long filled with grey
    Would soon be filled with green.
    I went out into the sunshine…
    Looking at the woods, and
    Lost in my thoughts of them.
    There was Jesus…
    He handed me a tiny perfectly
    Formed leaf but soon to wither
    Due to the storm of the night before
    Ripping it from its limb
    Until it landed far from where it began.

    He smiled, “The woods in spring
    Are like your thoughts…
    The leaves grow in the sunshine
    And water and the soil.
    An angry thought is like an angry wind
    Blowing through the trees
    Ripping out the goodness, and
    Laying bare your soul.
    Too much anger
    Leaves you in the greyness.”
    I scowled… He smiled…

    “You need to live
    As if eternity is here and now…
    Not somewhere after you leave this life.
    Evil is here, but it doesn’t have to be
    The way you view the world…
    Learn to guard your thoughts…
    Open your eyes
    Let kindness and patience
    Be your guide…
    Let love be what you breathe.
    Live each moment
    Not in the worries of today
    But
    With eternity in view.

    Then he smiled,
    “Come walk with me…
    This is a glorious day.”
    I knew I would walk with Him anywhere.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 13, 2019

    1. AvatarMET

      I recently lost my purpose…and I am a Warrior born… and needed a purpose…so for Lent this year I decided to take a part of the Celtic Daily Prayer..Book .. an exploration of a vision and a call to risky living based on the voyage of St. Brendan the Navigator… it is very long and asked questions… and I have fallen behind because of the section this poem will be going into my Brendan voyage…By the way I like questions… so when I saw Robert’s prompt this morning (By the way thank you Robert for giving us all the prompts but this one especially helped me clear my thoughts)…

    2. AvatarLinda Rhinehart Neas

      Wow! This is so inspirational, Mary. Thank you for sharing your journey and your wisdom. Reminds me of a meme I just put up on my Facebook page that said, “When life feels too big to handle, go outside. Everything looks smaller when you are standing under the sky.” ~ L.R. Knost
      Blessings!

      1. AvatarMET

        thank you so much Linda… I am learning so much about living in simplicity… moment to moment and Knost is right… when I am out in my forest… problems seem smaller… I have a forest that is over years old… by the way I am on FB… and as for wisdom… it is not mine… I just get glimpses into wisdom.

  42. AvatarAled Harris

    “A poem waiting for its start”

    The first thing that I always do
    on entering a hotel room
    is draw the curtains, have a look
    remembering I always book
    the cheapest choice, economy,
    so don’t expect a sweeping view
    with mountains, hills and misty streams.
    It’s often more like scaffold beams
    and rusty walls with cracked cement
    and washed out streaks that run like veins
    which lead the eye around the scene,
    contrasting colours, red and green

    that framed, just so, you could call art,
    a poem waiting for its start.

      1. AvatarAled Harris

        Thanks very much. I’ve realised the second line is off-meter the way it is, not that it matters all that much. I’m trying to practice meter though this month. So, for the sake of completeness:

        “on entering a new hotel” is the edited second line.

  43. Avatarheadintheclouds87

    View from the Spare Room Window

    I look out the window,
    Watch trees twitch in the wind
    And neighbourhood cats
    Going about their business,
    Finding myself pondering
    What daring rooftop path I’d take
    If I had that cunning agility;
    Then I regard the crooked fences
    Overcome by choking ivy
    (That I really should see to),
    I find my mind wandering
    In these strange directions
    As I sip my morning coffee,
    All from this daily view
    Simply by taking the chance
    To see beyond that first glance.

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