PROMPT #23 - WATER

With two hurricanes and a tropical storm raging through the Atlantic, it’s easy to figure out the decision behind choosing today’s prompt.  I watch these kinds of storms with fascinated respect.  For all those in nature’s way, I pray for your safe passage through the day.  I offer two poetic attempts for today's prompt:  a poem called Water Worries and, under "Comments", a haiku I've called Water Ways.

WATER WORRIES

The farm fields look to sun-filled skies
to heed their pleas and hear their cries.
But clouds that hold their precious cure
refuse the call, their needs ignore.
A barren wasteland dry as dust
can barely live, but live it must.
Without the gifts the soil brings,
our fate depends on future springs.

NEXT PROMPT ON 9/16/10

Due to the Labor Day holiday on Monday, September 6th, the A Muse Fuse weekly prompt will not return until Thursday, September 16th. We will then resume our alphabetical journey with the letter "W." Enjoy your holiday weekend and be safe!

Prompt #22 - VALUE

First, I apologize for the lateness of today’s post. Our 22nd muse prompt is the word: value. I have written and rewritten several poems for today’s prompt (hence, the posting delay). Many fell victim to the delete key, but I think I’m satisfied with my final product. Realistically, though, there are not enough megabytes to fully express the extent of what I value. And that makes me blessed and grateful.

WHAT WE VALUE

What makes us unique
are our differences.
What makes us similar
is not necessarily what our values are,
but that we all value something.

We value our families, our friendships,
our faiths and our freedoms.
We take offense when what we value
is compromised by outside opinions.

Words can sting and leave a mark,
but words alone cannot hurt us.
We have the privilege to live our lives
according to our own, particular needs.
And if we value nothing else,
let us embrace the value of liberty.

PROMPT #21 - UNDER

Today we come to the 21st letter of the alphabet. Our prompt is “under.” Still feeling the loss of my mother three years ago, I thought I was writing my poem for her. Instead, it appears I was writing it for me, a way to deal with the weight of the years her mind was held captive by this horrible disease. For all of you dealing with a loved one suffering in the same way, I pray you find the strength to get through it. And for my mother: Happy Birthday! You are missed and I love you!

UNDER BLACK, VELVET SKIES
For Martha Schoeffield 8/26/1920–9/3/2007

Dementia grabbed hold of her memory.
A blank, vacant stare gripped her eyes.
Recognition of loved ones around her
was lost under black, velvet skies.

Prayers for release went unanswered.
No hope for a speedy demise.
She lingered in chains from her bondage
in that prison of black, velvet skies.

When death finally graced her with freedom
from all that dementia implies,
relief mixed with unaltered sadness
for years lost to black, velvet skies.

Prompt #20 - THING

We’ve reached the letter “t” on our trip down Alphabet Road. The prompt I’ve chosen for this week is: thing. This is a great word. It can take you anywhere. We all have a thing we like or we care about. My attempt this week is dedicated to all the poets out there who regularly exercise their muse. So write about anything or everything or just any old thing that pops in your head. The important thing is to just write something!

THIS THING CALLED POETRY

What is this thing called poetry?
What in the world does it mean?
And how do these people called poets
create such incredible scenes?

The poets from past generations,
with inkwell and well-sharpened quill,
from deep within found inspiration
and brought forth their verses to thrill.

But poems did not die with Shakespeare,
or Browning, or Barrett or Yates.
There are many a new bard among us,
unabashed by the need to create.

Though quills have turned into computers,
the depths of those talents remain,
whether sharing a treasured encounter
or an undisguised moment of pain.

So what is this thing called poetry?
What value is there to impart?
It’s a piece of our personal history
as defined by the words from the heart.

Prompt #19 - STONE

Welcome back! The A Muse Fuse Poem-A-Day Challenge is now behind us. It’s time to move forward with our regular weekly prompts. While the Challenge was fun, I’m glad things are back to normal. As we return to our journey through the alphabet, we begin with the letter “S” and the word prompt this week is “stone.” Next week marks the third anniversary of my father’s death. My poem for this prompt seemed to write itself and is my tribute to this wonderful man who I think about every day.

THE STONE STANDS THERE
For Dan Schoeffield, 3/27/1920-8/20/2007

The stone stands there to remind me
of the loneliness I have felt
since the day you were taken away
and the body blow I was dealt.

The stone stands there to remind me
of laughter I no longer hear,
of wisdom you shared with me daily,
of comfort to vanquish the fear.

The stone stands there to remind me
of happier times in the past
when I was embraced by you presence,
a time that escaped us too fast.

The stone stands there to remind me
of memories I still hold dear.
The pain of the loss never lessens
for the dad who is no longer here.

Day #26 - ZEUS

We’ve reached the last letter of the alphabet, which means we’ve reached the end of the First Annual 26 Days in July Poem-A-Day Challenge. Many people have stopped by since our first prompt on July 6th, and while I’m disappointed that more didn’t have the opportunity to participate, I’m at least proud of myself for sticking with it. When all is said and done, I’ll look back on July as a month in which I wrote 26 poems. Some are pretty good, some are just okay, and some are downright awful. But, from my own perspective, this Challenge has been a huge success. I’ve looked at words I might not normally think of as particularly poetic and tried to infuse them with my muse. I didn’t always succeed, but I had fun trying. I’m hoping to bring the poem challenge back next year in January and then, again, in July. Why, you might well ask? It’s all for the love of poetry … and why the Zeus not?

ZEUS?

My well of creativity
has dried up from misuse.
I guess it’s time I face it:
I’m not cummings, Frost or Seuss!

The last prompt, and my muse is dead.
I’ve nothing to produce.
I’ve no words to inspire you,
enlighten or seduce.

And, so, I struggle with this prompt.
I guess I’m just obtuse.
But how can I write poetry
about the Greek god, Zeus?

Thanks, everyone, for stopping by. I hope you’ve enjoyed our sojourn through the alphabet. See you back here on August 12, 2010, when we resume our regular weekly prompts, starting with the letter “S.”

Day #25 - YELL

24 days down. 2 to go. Can you feel the excitement build? No, I can’t either. But that’s neither here nor there. Today’s prompt is “yell.” Once in a while, you might yell at your kids; you probably wish you could yell at your boss; you might even yell at the talking heads on television. As for now, yell where it really matters … on paper, in a poem! As for my effort today: I’m using the mantra I repeated to my parents on a regular basis.

PLEASE DON’T YELL

I could have done this better.
and I could have done that right.
I could have thought about it first,
and dodged my present plight.
I promise to reduce my wrongs.
On failures, please don’t dwell.
And while I beg for amnesty,
resist the urge to yell.

Day #24 - X-RAY

Our prompt for Day #24 is “x-ray.” I dedicate my poetic effort for today to my mother and father, who passed away two weeks apart in 2007. Sometimes, I wonder if the pain of their loss will ever go away.

MULTIPLE X-RAYS

If you x-ray my heart,
you will see how it bleeds
from an unfulfilled promise
and from unfulfilled needs.

If you x-ray my soul,
you will find that it’s black.
There’s a dark, empty hole,
knowing you won’t be back.

If you x-ray my eyes,
you will see how they cried.
For the tears realize
what they lost when you died.

Day #23 - WILLOW

We are now at Day #23 in the A Muse Fuse Poem-A-Day Challenge. Today’s prompt is “willow.” The kitchen window, in the house I grew up in, looked out upon our backyard. There, in the center of our outside oasis, stood a weeping willow tree. Many hours of my childhood were spent playing around, under, and on that tree. It was a source of safety and comfort in those days of my youth. It is now a pleasant and comforting memory as time moves forward.

THE WEEPING WILLOW

I saw it from the window,
the tree so proud and tall.
It reached beyond the heavens
(so I thought, when I was small).
It reminded me of Daddy,
rooted firmly in the ground,
but was also like my Momma,
showing strength without a sound.
This tree will last forever,
though its branches gently sway,
for this weeping willow memory
is a part of me today.