Cloud Walker – All in a Word Prompt

NefelibataHigh above,
Where humans rarely go
Nefelibata roamed
Writing poems
Creating worlds
Which you and I
Had never known …
Magically composed
Incantations
Taking us into the realm
Of clouds …
Though a picture
Is worth a thousand words
A poetic image
By Nefelibata was worth more …
Until one day
He became
Disenchanted
By the Earth
And no longer flew
In the sky above.

I’ve known more than one poet who could have been called Nefelibata…like Icarus they flew so high, and like Icarus they fell back to the Earth, but who knows unlike Icarus they may fly again!

Written for All in a Word – 13th Floor Paradigm

Just a Note – March 27, 2014

Hello World…

you might have noticed I’ve added a new form to my poetry collection.  It’s called a shadorma.  I came across this form recently through Mindlovemisery who by the way has opened a new prompting blog called Mindlovemisery Menagerie.  There will be a new prompt everyday from Haiku/Tanka through to Fairy Tales and Shadorma, please click the link for more information.

I’ve been asked to host the Saturday post, the shadorma post, to be precise and I’m really excited about the idea, and have been writing shadorma to practice a much as possible before the big day!

This week I’ll also be hosting the “Saturday Story – From a Photo” as a Friday prompt at We Drink Because We’re Poets (from now on until Lilith returns). This week I have a special photo by a special person, to inspire you,  Leanne Cole!  So, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you then.  The Sunday 13th Floor writing prompt will remain…All in a Word and is open to whatever inspires you through the hosted word … I’ll be working on that to see if I can’t refine it better!

Thanks for dropping by and reading…see you soon!  Georgia (Bastet).

All in a Word – Bastet’s Sunday Prompts

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War – Conversation Poem

The man sat at his vending-stall
one bright spring sunny day
selling his wares to one and all
and plying his interesting trade
people looked quite interested
in the bombs and the hand grenades
and he told all about their history
and of the 1914 war.

Some shook their heads
some made remarks
about that long gone war
too bad that all those young boys
died,  were maimed,
so many long years ago …
“aren’t we lucky” one man did say
“that war is now just history,
that no one needs to die today
for empires and positions”.

I heard a man sit there and say
“sometimes war can’t be avoided …
it’s all about peace, you know
and who first does the invading”.
I saw a woman shake her head
“I’m glad that war’s behind us!”
but then I think about the news
and say: “War is all around us.”

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Written for All in a Word – Bastet’s Sunday Prompts

Criticism in Witticism : All in a Word

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Criticism in Witticism –  Didactic Poem

I’m part of the majority
who loves not your snarky way
of criticizing everyone
forever and a day …
criticism may be good
to help one to betterment
but witticism my dear friend
works wonders for the soul …

there are so many ways to say
“you’ve mess-up from where I stand”
but humility should be a part
in your remark
if you could only understand …
a critic is a person
who often feels so grand
pulling down someone’s ego
thus building up his own …
it’s sad that sometimes what they say
could really help you out
but when you know their motive’s
snarky … there’s no profit to be had.

learn to use good humor
learn to use humility
learn to love the other
and use a little care.
I’ll take your criticism then
for I’ll know there’s no mistake
you’re saying that for my own good
and not for your own sake.

Written for All in a Word

A Poem…Free Verse

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAA Poem

words in a row
rhyme and meter
flowing emotions
in crimson thoughts
born from tears
born in laughter
clothed in
sweet caresses
of love
or war …
longing kisses
or eternal bliss
tender offerings
of a mystical muse …
days of yore
younger worlds
winsome bliss
and infinite hopes …
these were penned
in days long past
or yet to be written
in a future
still unseen …

words in a row
rhyme and meter
flowing emotions
in crimson thoughts
a poem.

Written for the Thirteenth Floor Paradigm.

Distilling Poe!

Today I decided to try to distill Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven” into haiku form.  The idea originally comes from the Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, but over at the 13th Floor Paradigm, I decided to use it as a Sunday  Writing Prompt…giving full credit of course to who, from my point of view created this great exercise!

So here we go with Poe:
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

The Raven

ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this, and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

Poe’s Raven in Haiku

dreary winter’s night
studying arcane lore books
a tapping is heard

mourning sweet Lenore
embers dying in the hearth
bleak December night

Paradigm Prompt

Power Prompt: Usquebae

the-moonUsquebae*

I came upon the cottage one cloudy moonlit night. A yellow light shone from the window, yet I knew it to be abandoned.  I got off my horse, and walked up the steps to the door.

Suddenly, the light went out.

“Hello! Who’s there!” I shouted though I knew not why.

I pushed at the door and found it oddly open. So, I proceeded to walk cautiously into the room.There, on the old scarred hard-wood table was a bottle.  I picked it up and took a whiff.

“My oh my…someone’s made some pretty fine moonshine!” I whispered.

“Aye, and I did! Finest usquebae ta be found!” replied a craggy voice.

The bottle fell from my hand.

“Ach laddie, dae be careful! Me spirits been here nigh 100 years…”

And so I knew how the McCloud’s secret moonshine formula lived on.

(*whiskey as it was known in 1715)

Written for Bastet’s Writing Prompt

Rondeau Redoublé: Cyberbullies

Rondeau Redouble

Cyberbullies

Seems we prefer victims once they are dead.
Easier to sit back than take up a cause,
Silently watching we aide and abed,
Laughing with bullies we sharpen their claws!

So used to cruelty it gives us no pause,
Meek are the victims and carefully bred
We love martyrs I think this because,
Seems we prefer victims once they are dead.

Maybe it’s fear we’ve grown in our head.
We won’t defend victims from bully outlaws.
Better be quiet you see we’re well-bred.
Easier to sit back than take up a cause.

A victim the tough guy chews in his maws.
The silly chicken or the gross dead-head,
Ridiculing, hurting seeking guffaws…
Silently watching we aide and abed.

He’s funny baiting the nerdy egghead,
Such a great show, he deserves your hurrahs!
Tomorrow maybe you’ll be the knucklehead…
Laughing with bullies we sharpen their claws!

Taught you’d go to heaven turning your cheek
Taught to hold back and never be exposed
Taught to love the strong and despise the weak
Taught to laugh when some bunny just explodes
Seems we prefer victims.

Written for:  Special Prompt: Cyber-bullying – A Challenge
Traces of Soul .

Power Short: The Gnome

Bastet’s Power Short Prompt!  Genre:  Fairy Tale (or Fantasy)…and it’s not necessary to write it for children.

olive-treeThe Gnome

The gnome lived in an old olive tree.  He’d watched as over the years the land had been changed.  The dryads, fairies and pixies had all taken to the mountains long ago.  No place for them to live now.

It looked like he too would move.  Men had  built their houses and building all around him.  Recently, the fields that he used to hunt in, had become a parking-lot. The river was still near, but  no cover to hide in as he ventured forth to fish.

His tree had been saved, but not his home.

The last of the old Magic was leaving the land.

Power Shorts: Natural Magic

Write a magical Power Short!  Genre then is Fairy Tale (or Fantasy)…and it’s not necessary to write it for children.

the-cat

Natural Magic

Austere, looking out from her point of observation, the cat, Misty contemplated the world.

The noisy dog pulling on its lease began to bark at her.  She looked at him, closing one eye at a time.

“I know you, you wicked creature!  You take advantage of man’s good heart!” the dog said in animal language.

“And I know you…man’s slave!”

The dog barked even more fiercely, but the man pulled him up short before he could attack the cat.

She meowed, the man smiled and then pulled the poor furious dog down the path.

“A cat’s magic is independence” she’d meowed to the man.

@)—>—>—-

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