Looking at My Stalker

It is the 10th prompt for NPM and the Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt. this prompt is to write a Minnesang. This form is a 12th – 14th century German courtly love poem built around a knight’s attempt to court a lady who does NOT return his favor. The iambic tetrameter (8 syllables) with a rhyme scheme of a/b/a/b/c/c or a/b/b/c/a/a. Write about your brush with unrequited love…

Date was late to my door to greet
He swooned when he saw my red hair
He stunk and his breath was not sweet
All night he did nothing but stare
I told him to forget my name
Rejected my stalker became

Around every corner we’d meet
In all my classes he’d be there
Leave me alone I would repeat
He told all that we were a pair
I was his girl, he’d laid his claim
No is no, I won’t play this game

He pursued me down every street
Desperate I found a lady fair
I ducked and dodged, a stealth athlete
Introduced them an instant pair
They said I was partly to blame
That she was now his only flame

I was a freshman in college and since men outnumbered women by 10 to 1, the big thing was a “computerized” match game. All the girls were encouraged to sign up and as an incentive we all got t-shirts. Not one to pass up a free shirt, I filled out the form. I was “matched” with 6 guys. The first date was with Nigel. He was the penultimate nerd. We went to the model train club where he ran his train for an hour while I sat and watched. I excused myself and walked back to my dorm. A second date was with a guy who was about 2 inches shorter than me and I was 5’2″. He looked to be about 10 years old. It was only memorable because he attempted to paw me but I was able to hold him off since my arms were longer than his (and I probably out weighed him by 15 pounds).

It was with great trepidation that I agreed to go on another date. He was supposed to meet me in the lobby of the dorm and was 30 minutes late. His body odor was eye watering. His breath was like a knife cutting through the body odor! To say I was repulsed was an understatement. I told him that I wasn’t interested in continuing the date. He looked sad but said he understood. I thought that was it. He proceeded to stalk me for a good 2 weeks. I was on the verge of filing a police report because he was telling all my friends that we were a couple. Then I met a girl in my English class. She was sweet and cute and had just broken up with her boyfriend back home. Since she lived in the dorm across from mine I suggested we walk back together. It was perhaps the most desperate thing I’d ever done, but when my stalker materialize I introduced them and then made an excuse to leave. They hit it off and she later asked me if I minded that she “stole” my boyfriend. I assured her that I didn’t mind at all.

Looking at a Straight Arrow

This is the next entry for the NPM Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt using the 9th prompt – write a Concrete Poem – This is a shape poem that takes the form of the poem’s topic. Pick any topic! I selected an arrow for archery!

A
Bow
Strung
Releases
An
A
R
R
O
W
To
Hit
The
Target
To make a mark
To kill a dream
To show the world
That your aim
Is deadly true

There aren’t many people who use bow and arrows for hunting and even fewer who would use them for self defense or as a military offensive weapon. They’ve become somewhat obsolete. Still archery is a badge that Boy Scouts can earn and it remains an Olympic sport. Some people still hold onto the mystique and romanticism of archery thanks to the tales of Robin Hood, and Disney’s Brave. We use terms related to archery such as describing someone as a “straight arrow” to mean they are morally upright as a straight arrow is needed if you want to hit the target. “Wide of the mark” means an action is incorrect or irrelevant since in archery if you are wide of the mark you’ve missed the target completely. To take a “parting shot” means to get in the last word often cutting and sarcastic but originated from the “Parthian shot,” a battle tactic used by Parthian horse archers who would shoot arrows backward over their horses’ rumps as they retreated. If you’ve used any of these phrases, you are keeping archery alive!

Looking at a Paean

This is the 8th prompt in the NPM Power of Poem Scavenger Hunt. The prompt is to write a Paean. This is a song of praise or triumph in poem form. It originated in ancient Greece as a way of thanking gods for favors received. Paeans can take any form but ballads, odes, and lyric verses are the preferred vehicles. Write a Paean in thanksgiving of new life.

By what magic does the seed crack open
Send forth a root and leaf as from the grave
After winter’s death rise up to new life again
No longer to darkness as an unwitting slave?
That welcome resurrection that we applaud
In gratitude and joyous refrain
Is the grace of God we give praise and laud
That the earth’s bounty our lives sustain
Through no merit or prayers intoned
But by the Father’s hand gently given
We His children rebellious but not disowned
Though from Eden’s paradise were driven
In thankful pious adoration I loudly rejoice
Fill my thoughts and heart with accolades
For my Creator has given me a voice
And all blessings fall on me in cascades

There is much in my life to be thankful for and the promise of new life is a big one. Every plant is a promise kept. Each spring I see birds hatch, little bunnies born, and even the latest generation of deer and squirrels show up. If for just a fleeting moment I can forget the negative and focus my full attention on the miracle of new birth and renewal of life, then I know that God is good and Love survives…

Looking at Chicago with Carl Sandburg

The W3 Poet of the Week is Sally, who has placed a magnificent challenge before us. She asks that we write in the style of a poet you admire, and/or borrow a single line from a favorite poem and weave it into your poem, and/or write a poem in honor of another poet where you name them in the title. The final instructions are to limit the poem to 20 lines or less and to have fun with it!!

I squint into the sun of the blast furnace
The roar of the fire fierce but the men more so
The heat intensifies the hunger and the thirst
And we toil making our own tribute to Beltane
The flame is mine, the god of iron and steel is mine
And the boys jump between crucibles
Leap past molten metal between slag showers
Ingots
Billets
Slabs
Coils
This is the slang of coal and steel
Shovel coke and sweat the dust from our faces
Wear flowers of soot and char while we dance
We sing as a raging inferno pounding iron
Listen to our song of spark and sizzle

Here is the link to the poems of Carl Sandburg that inspired me to write the above poem: Smoke and Steel and Chicago

Looking for a Rhyming Recipe

The 7th prompt for the Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt for NPM is to write a Rhyming Recipe poem. This form is a rhyming poem written in couplets that provide a way to recall a recipe. You can use any rhyming form (with couplets) and it must describe steps to prepare a culinary dish. Here’s one of my favorite recipes to share with all of my WP friends and all NPM participants!

A recipe for Chicken Supreme
The working woman’s favorite dream

Mix together uncooked macaroni a half pound
One half teaspoon pepper finely ground

Two cups milk, two cans mushroom soup
Two chicken breasts shredded stir the gloop

Mix in half pound grated cheddar with onion dice
Refrigerate overnight to make it nice

After work there’s nothing to make
Pop in the oven at 350 and bake!

This was a recipe that my Mother In-Law gave me at my wedding shower. I wasn’t much inclined to try it because she also gave me her Three Bean Salad recipe which by all accounts was so bad that not even the dog would eat it. After having son#1 and going back to work, I decided to give it a try. This became a go to recipe. In time I got adventurous and added peas, or mixed veggies. I experimented with putting potato chips on top or Durkee’s Fried Onions. I once ran out of cream of mushroom soup and substituted cream of chicken and cream of celery – which turned out fantastic! So I offer this as a quick make ahead recipe for a family on the go. There is only one caveat: do not preheat the oven. Put the casserole dish in a cold oven and then bake for 1 hour and 15 min. I haven’t made this since retiring, but I think it may just show up on the menu again!

Looking at TACOs

As things go from bad to worse, I’m compelled to write bad poetry. This is an acrostic. It is a form used to communicate between friends and family, lovers and spies. In the acrostic the message is found by reading down using the first letter of each line…

Impaired by a Swiss cheese brain
Made obvious in midnight rants
Presidential dementia will reign
Every sundown with MAGA chants
A frontal lobe thought confusion
Chaos on a world wide scale
He’s gone mad the only conclusion
Most leaders agree he’s a fail
Engaging in unprovoked wars
Now we’re the proven aggressors
The casualties mount by the scores
This shouts that we’re the oppressors
International opinion counts
Madmen and dictators avoid us
External pressure mounts
It’s clearly bad double plus
Show some spine and act now
No more delays we beg you
Our lawmakers scrape and bow
When will they get a clue?

Politically speaking, I’m angry and frustrated, and not just a little worried about the future of this country. Sure, we’ve weathered many a storm in the 250 years since our independence from Great Britain. BUT never before has there been such an onslaught of destruction aimed at our Constitution with the cooperation of our elected leaders. I know why we haven’t been invaded – they don’t need to waste their resources and the lives of their soldiers. Because we are imploding! At this rate we will be plunged into a financial depression of unspeakable depth and length that will last for generations. People will starve and I’m not just referring to those on the fringe of society. Savings and pensions will evaporate because of inflation. We’ve already lost manufacturing and become a consumer economy. We are going to experience a resurgence of barter as a means of putting food on the table and having access to essentials. I hope the libraries still have “how to” books on everything from sewing and gardening to beekeeping and raising chickens! We’re going to need it. Maybe the preppers were right. Only thing they are wrong about is who is going to destroy this country – hint: it isn’t the liberals or the media!

Looking at a Dirge

This is the 6th prompt for the NPM Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt. We are asked to write a Dirge which is a poem of any form that is a lament for the dead. Focus on victims of violence. I selected the Catena Rondo. This form consists of multiple 4 line (quatrain) stanzas where the first and last lines of a stanza are identical and lines 2 and 3 rhyme. The first and last lines of the next stanza are identical to the 2nd line in the previous quatrain. To finish the poem the last stanza must be identical to the first stanza.

Innocent lives taken by ICE
Masked agents ignoring justice
Round up the people just like us
Innocent lives taken by ICE

Masked agents ignoring justice
Deporting asylum seekers
Walking past drugged out white tweakers
Masked agents ignoring justice

Deporting asylum seekers
Killing unarmed wife and mother
Feel power when undercover
Deporting asylum seekers

Killing unarmed wife and mother
We light candles recall their names
See our freedom go down in flames
Killing unarmed wife and mother

We light candles recall their names
Innocent lives taken by ICE
Count them martyrs, Alex Pretti paid the price
We light candles recall their names

Innocent lives taken by ICE
Masked agents ignoring justice
Round up the people just like us
Innocent lives taken by ICE

I don’t think I need to explain this poem. Anyone who has a pulse knows the story and is aware of the senselessness of the murder of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. History will remember these murder victims.

“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.”

Looking a Little Acrostic

This is my 5th entry for the NPM Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt. The prompt is to write an Acrostic poem. This form requires that the first letter of each line forms a message. It was used for messages in code between lovers, spies, and mischief-makers. Write a message to other poets.

Angry phrases are as valid as
Love poems with saccharine words
Lyrical verses and all that pizzazz
Poems that extoll sky and birds
Only the reader can truly find
Emotion and connection within
Metered verses and lines
Show the way and the poet begins
Calls forth the muse Calliope
Offers paper and pen and praise
Until inspiration granted to agree
Now start that perfect turn of phrase
Theme or form iambic or spondee

Not all poems are creative gold. Not every poet’s work appeals to everyone. That said I truly believe that everyone is able to write poetry. That doesn’t mean that everyone who writes poetry is the next poet laureate. But there is someone who will read the words and see themselves or recognize the situation. As a poet I am always happy if my poems get a reaction (positive or negative) because that means that the reader had a reaction. And that is the point of poetry…

Looking to Snap

The W3 Poetry Prompt is provided by Nigel Byng, the Poet of the week. He has challenged us to write a Paean about a personal triumph – past. present, of future. This triumph should be a moment that changed you and marked a quiet or dramatic victory. We are asked to focus on what makes the moment worthy of praise, what was overcome, what shifted, what it revealed about the poet. We are asked to honor something real.

In praise of physics and perseverance
I failed at games of flap, clap and snap
But I persisted despite interference
I’d be out – get the shoulder tap

I didn’t give up, I refused to quit
I practiced the finger snap all day
Displaying drive and true grit
I wanted to participate – play

First through fifth grades I’d be left behind
I practiced snapping – no pause, no nap
Sixth grade music class I was assigned
A rhythm group required to snap

I failed to make a single sound
The snap was silent a ghostly act
But lost in chorus of those around
But I was trying -that’s a fact

The moment came when I was nineteen
Such rejoicing my spirit soared
I danced and leapt, and made a scene
I snapped loudly – oh my Lord!

An accomplishment long awaited
At last the snap has come to be
I praise time and sound anticipated
Because I can win -wait and see!

If you have ever been excluded from a game, you might be aware of the feeling of isolation and failure. I was a very bright and eager student. In first grade I could already read (my mother was a 1st grade teacher). I could do all the things that many of my classmates were just learning to do – like tie my shoes, handle scissors, write my name – you get the picture. There were 2 things that I couldn’t do. I couldn’t whistle or snap my fingers. My teacher had a game that she would have us play where we formed a circle and she would have us go around the circle you had to flap twice, clap twice, and snap your fingers twice then give the answer. The answer was the easy part: “W” – flap, flap, clap, clap, snap, snap, “X”! When you gave the right answer you got to say a letter like “C” and the next in the circle would have to flap, clap, and snap and give the letter that comes after “C”. If you didn’t know the answer you had to sit at your desk. If you failed to flap twice, clap twice, or snap twice – you sat at your desk.

This was a learning exercise that the teachers all embraced. It happened in some form through 5th grade. By 5th grade it was sped up and the questions were more like quiz bowl or spelling bee or math Olympics. And I was always out. Not because I didn’t know the answer but because I couldn’t snap my fingers. Believe me, I was motivated to learn to snap. The summer after 3rd grade I spent all summer trying to snap my fingers. I bluffed my way through middle school. High school was easy since I never needed to snap. It was my freshman year in college. I was studying and out of habit attempting to snap my fingers and I made a snap! I was ecstatic! I made my fingers sore snapping for the rest of the evening. My roommate at the time thought I’d lost my mind.

That practiced patience and tenacity has become an integral part of who I am – If there is an obstacle I know it is not insurmountable! It may not be a quick resolution but I will persist.

Looking at a Good Death

This is my fourth post for the NPM Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt. I’ve tackled prompt #4 – Write a Jisei. A Jisei is a traditional Japanese Buddhist death poem which discusses death and the meaning of life in the last moments before death. This form uses the syllabic form of the Tanka (5/7/5/7/7) and is generally serious though it can be humorous. We have all mused on our own demise – try to do it in this form. Remember – you can’t say death or dying in the poem only allude to it!

Crumbling path behind
The way before fog covered
I linger afraid
Then I’m called into bright light
Fear fades, heart leaps, a smile blooms

Of course you get a post script. Death is a mysterious event. No one can tell you exactly what death feels like or what precisely is beyond this life. I was discussing death with my youngest sister. Her MIL passed away in January after having a massive stroke. She lingered for 6 days. She was unable to swallow, speak, or have coordinated movement. Her dementia had already taken her coherent speech. She had fallen and was confined to a wheelchair. Still she fought death. She wrestled and moaned and screamed. Even with her heart and blood pressure meds, her respirations were slow and shallow and her heart was beating in a slow and irregular rhythm. My sister felt that MIL was fighting because she had no beliefs in heaven or hell. I think that when you have that assurance that there is something good waiting for you on the other side, the transition is easier and less terrifying. That’s what I saw with my father, what happened with my mother, and with Sparky’s father. I’m hoping I can experience that kind of peaceful and joyful death…