Import Important, by JulesPaige

Import Important
(99 syllables, Double Ennead Ekphrastic Acrostic
of the split words of Import Important)

I employ the rake to
manage the fall leaves
piling them high at the curb for picking up
or some are for my trees
raked round their bases

tender protection for
inclement weather
might damage the roots that are near the surface
perhaps when snow piles high
over the back yard…

rest well with slow sap, my
trees that shed their leaves
and know that I look for budding health come spring
now though brace for winter;
time for dreamings’ nigh

***

If I too could sleep the winter through,
could I would I sleep thusly
under warm leaf quilts

©2021 JulesPaige

Jules is a poetmaster, weaving words expertly whenever she wishes.

Autumnal Acrostic

©2021 Chel Owens

Footsteps, shushed
Amidst Nature’s
Leavings –
Leafings.

or

An expensive carpet, this
Underlayment of leaves
Taken and spread
Underneath these bare trees.
Mind you don’t tread as a somber old man;
Neither should you tiptoe -run, kick, and dance.

——–

©2021 Chel Owens

Acrostic isn’t my favorite ‘form’ for poetry, but can function as a framework for trying to shape a poem. Try it out; especially consider trying it out for my latest Anyone Can Poem challenge at Carrot Ranch!

Saint John City, Part 4

Continued from Part 3

Ida’s thoughts circled her head while she walked, buzzing too close for comfort but not near enough to swat away. Looking back at the store, she saw Bob and Sue; both waved and she returned the friendly gesture. Thoughts of Bob joined the swarm. Did he suspect her and should she suspect him? After all, Bob was not the sort to miss a person walking into his store and disappearing.

She sighed. This was all her mother’s fault. Ida could hear the lecture now: “You gotta do good in the world, Ida Ann. Nobody’s worth nothing if he thinks about himself all the time!” Her mother lived it, too. Ida couldn’t recall how many times she’d come home from school to find a note saying Mom was out at so-and-so’s house. Their family hardly enjoyed a meal or a batch of cookies without first sharing it with others.

Yes, her mother set the bug in Ida’s conscience to do good in the world. Yes, there was a need for good in a world with bad people. And, yes, she suspected that Petey might be one of those bad people.

A curling, yellow leaf drifted across her vision, drawing her attention to God’s beautiful autumn around her. She stopped. Maple Street glowed in reds and yellows while the gentle wind brushed leaves from branches to dance downward like soft rain.

It was the leaves that saved her. Crisp crunching footsteps came from behind, as solid but nervous as those she’d heard behind the hidden door at the back of McClintock’s Mercantile. By the time they stuttered to her side, she’d replaced her frozen expression with her classic, open smile. “Hello, Petey.”

Petey stalled and stopped. “Well! Ida Layton.” His lowered eyebrows and sharp eyes guarded a returning smirk. He kept pace with her as they continued on. “I see you went shopping.”

She’d forgotten the swinging bag of milk and cereal at her side. “Oh! Yes. You know how fast kids go through food!” She laughed, stopping quickly at its nervous tenor.

His laugh sounded natural and at ease. “I’m surprised you got out with just the Lucky Charms. Bob about got my ear last time I went in there.”

“Well,” she stopped. They were at her mailbox. “Now that you mention it, he did tell me all about some kind of juicing machine. He sounds …excited.”

“Ha! Excited isn’t the half of it. You’d think he were getting a horse.” Petey turned his gaze to a distant point in the sky across the street.

“Well,” she said again. He didn’t react. “Guess I’d better go get the kids their food.”

He waited till she was halfway up the front walk before answering. “You gotta take care of those kids.”

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 9/25/2020

This week’s prompt of a seasonal haiku may have sounded simple, but making it funny was no joke. After narrowing down the funniest entries, the winner was:

Untitled, by DumbestBlogger
I drink my coffee
Leaves fall in the cup
I choke and die

Dumbestblogger chose morbid humor for his entry. Even with so few syllables, he succeeded in making me laugh.

Enjoy the others as well:

Autumn, by Roberta Cheadle
Leaves, leaves everywhere
I’ll persuade hubby to rake
Where’s my lingerie?

Untitled, by Obbverse
Get strangers together,
Talk about the weather…
That never changes..

Special Day, by Matt Snyder
it’s our wedding day
hurricane blows up her dress
our Kodak moment

Untitled, by Ian Kay
brand new leaf-blower!
blows leaves into neighbour’s yard
covers my dog’s poop.

Seasonal change, by Hobbo
stunning mother nature
fresh frock every day

have you met my wife?

Untitled, by Willowdot
Days are getting short
Gaia’s tempers getting fraught
We just won’t be taught

The Coming of Autumn, by Trent McDonald
Frost on the leaf tip
Now I am sweating again!
Just make up your mind…

***

Leaves turn to bright red
I run out to frolic, and…
Oops, now I am red!

Untitled, by Deb Whittam
Summers coming quick,
You squeal in delight but
mosquitoes bite … hard

The Farmer Wife’s, by Heather Dawn
Fresh autumn wind blows,
There the honey wagon goes,
No! I hung the clothes!

Fall Picture Woesby Heather Dawn
Picture perfect day,
No chance for a perfect pose,
Five kids ruin those.

Seasonal Change 1, by Fishman
Picked up a red leaf.
pulled a muscle in my back;
Thanks a lot, Autumn.

Seasonal Change 2, by Fishman
Autumn is here now.
Lovely time; I’d write more, but
sadly I’m out of . . .

Untitled, by BS
One plus one is two
I fall for you in the fall
Now go rake the leaves

Untitled, by Ruth Scribbles
Seasons in Texas
All four in a hot teacup
Sip at your own risk

Fall in Southern California, by Lauren
Where are my long johns?
The temps are below normal.
It’s reached 80 now.

—–

Thank you for entering! I loved laughing along. Please come back tomorrow around lunchtime for the next week’s prompt.

Dumbestblogger, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2020 The poets, and their respective works

A Mused Seasonal Haiku (or Senryu)

Autumn
Drifting autumn leaves
I thought were orange wafers
Proved inedible

Photo by WARREN BLAKE on Pexels.com

—–

Winter
Snow-tufted leaf stalks
Turned yellow in the sunshine
After walking Dog

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

—–

Spring
Sneezes wheezes *sniffs*
Frighten social-distancing folk
Oh! Darn allergies!

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

—–

Summer
Overworked sales clerk
Fin’lly relaxing on beach
‘Offered’ a timeshare

Photo by Alexander Stemplewski on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

The A Mused Poetry Contest 9/19 – 9/25/2020

Welcome to the A Mused Poetry Contest! Enjoy laughing? You’re in the right place!

Here are the specifics for this week’s contest:

  1. Seasons are changing. The Theme is a funny haiku (or, more technically accurate, a senryu) about seasonal change. Spring, fall, summer, winter, autumn; whatever.
  2. From Wikipedia about senryu, regarding Length: “three lines with 17 morae (or “on”, often translated as syllables, but see the article on onji for distinctions).” We’re also fine with the ole 5-7-5.
  3. Dude; this poetry form does NOT Rhyme.
  4. I dunno what might be racy about nature, so a G-rating is preferable.
  5. Just MAKE US LAUGH. Mother Nature needs to slap your wrists with climbing roses as she holds her vinèd sides in laughter.

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (September 25) to submit a poem.

Use the form below to stay anonymous for a week.

Otherwise, for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Drop a comment if you try to link back and it doesn’t show up within a day.

Have fun!

—–

Photo by Jan Krnc on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 4/3/2020

Spring or Autumn’s in the air, and our poetmasters clearly could not resist penning an ode or haiku or whoknowswhatthehecktheywerewriting to the seasons. Despite the thrills or chills or desirestorunforthehills they gave, only one walked away as champion.

And that winner is:

Untitled piece

by Writerinretrospect

Bloody buzzing bees
Faceplant into the window
Hahahahaha!!

Congratulations, Writerinretrospect! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

I had great fun reading all these poems! WIR’s struck me as winner above all because of its succinct terribleness; its abbreviated awfulness. This poem addressed the subject, appeared to verse seriously by its form, then proved quite silly after all.

But, that hardly discounts the rest. I laughed aloud at their cleverness, and know you also will:

I hope California’s Dreaming

by Richmond Road

The mercury is falling
I hope it’s just a cold
Is it destiny that’s calling?
Or part of getting old?
Is it just a shiver?
Or might it be a curse?
That Autumn will deliver
Or will Winter be much worse?

A month of isolation
My social distance getting broad
I’m here for the duration
Already getting bored
There’s bad news in the paper
The TV’s on the blink
I fear the isolator
Might turn this man to drink

My Mama and my Papa
They left here just in time
I cough. I sneeze. I splutter
I’ve been cut down in my prime
So all the sky is grey
And all the leaves are brown
There’s nothing left to say
‘Cause there’s no one left in town

***
And I want extra points deducted for the blatant theft of ‘California Dreaming’ lyrics.

—–

Ode to Spring (in Alabama)

by The Abject Muse

Springtime in the Dirty South

don’t last fer long

Well hush my mouth!

Magnolia trees are the best part

smell so fresh an’ sweet

ain’t like Bubba-Jean’s dirty feet.

Tiny birds chirp & slurp

the juicy worms

they find in dirt

In a couple weeks

spring is over

and you will sweat

like an ogre.

Cuz now it’s summer.

—–

Haiku

by Joem18b

green things start to grow
when they come out from the snow
so then i must mow

—–

Autumntime

by Deb Whittam

Autumn is comin
But I’ll still be runnin
2 metres from you
Hey lets go to the zoo
See the bats
Drown the rats
Walk the dogs
Bring in the hogs
Leaves are fallin
Winter will come a callin
But we’ll all be in lockdown
So I’ll be up at four
Runnin’ so you can’t see me
No more.

—–

New Life

by Bryntin

waiting
for it to arrive
and full of hope
for it all to be better soon

suddenly
things are new and fresh
a mysterious force has been
and reinvigorated your world

unbidden
no one asks for this
it happened overnight
a sprouting in functionalities

refreshed
with the urge to create
the brilliant canvas slowly awakens
your desire for inputs suddenly keener

excited
the power surges within
the crescendo of creative energy builds

and then it stops

message
information blinks
it reads
Windows 10 Update unsuccessful
Try Again? Y/N

—–

Untitled piece

by Joanne

Autumn –
the trees slowly
going bald

—–

Ode to Spring

by Charlie

After fornicating earlier for all they’re worth
in the Spring the animals give birth
Owls spawn owlets
Cows spawn cowlets
(or “calves”
if it is comprised of both halves)
Bees pollinate the colorful blooms
Hibernating bears check out of their rooms
Reproduction is that upon which all of nature is built
Didn’t have youngsters? Enjoy your guilt!

The season of Spring
is just about my favorite thing
Although you can bet your bautumn
I prefer Autumn

—–

Mud Season

by The Bag Lady

The dirt road freezes then it thaws

Ruts form in melting causing “awes”

From drivers going way too fast

Veering all ways from first to last

Tires getting stuck in grooves

Cars making unwanted moves

The trip was never meant to be

A closeup visit with a tree.

—–

Re-leafing myself in public
(with apologies to His Bobness)

by Doug Jacquier

As the calendula ticks (not to be confused with cattle ticks)
over to the March of the sugar plum fairies
I vow to turn over a new leaf.
But I am de-feated
By the myriad discarded oak appendages
carpet-snaking to my door.
There must be some way out of here
I thought in disbelief.
There’s too much confusion.
I can’t get on relief.
So I sprang forward through
a hole in the daylight-saving curtain
and found, to my re-leaf,
rabbits eating my lettuce seedlings.

—–

Untitled piece

by Obbverse

Sunny Outlook.
Leaves is green,
Summers peachy keen.
Leaves turn yellow,
Mortifies this fellow.
Leaves is red,
Soon be dead.
Winter draws close,
Leaves me morose.
Grey day after day
Springs so far away.
When that wintery sun’s shining
I cain’t see no silvery lining.

—–

Untitled piece

by Trent P. McDonald

A flower flowered
Outside of my door
I knew it must be spring!
I sprang outside
Birds and buds on trees!
It reminded me I need a six-pack
Of Bud
But never mind
The birds on trees!
And Buds!
Yuck….
I go inside
Wash the bird excrement off
I shut the curtains
I open a Bud
When will winter be here again!?!

—–

Spring? Yeah, right

by Geoff LePard
(follow the link for lovely pictures of Geoff’s garden as well)

Spring has finally sprung

But like a gorilla on an old mattress

It’s barely left the ground

Which is frankly disappointing.

*

This year’s daffodils

Have wandered off with a poet,

Looking jaundiced

And in need of a good drink.

*

The lambs have skipped

School in favour of

The slaughterhouse

Cos at least it’s warm.

*

There’s blossom on the trees

But it’s more like

Arboreal dandruff

Than a sign of new birth.

*

Whoever coined the expression

Global warming

Hasn’t had his nadger’s iced

By a March north wind.

*

It bites like a demented rabbit

Denied its conjugal rights

Cos Mrs Flossy has chucked him out

Of the family burrow. Again.

*

Yeah Spring. It sucks. I’m

Practising self hibernation.

—–

Spring its A Lie, Or the Birth of Buds

by Ellen Best

Watch them unfurl in the fragileility of spring,
Opening our eyes allowing us to dream.
Sun scoots low to expose streaked windows
and stained tablecloths that soap failled to clean.
Dust motes dance without rythm or beat,
As the light stings our eyes and warms our feet.
lettuce and sweatpeas sprout in soil filled pots
With dafdodills normality comes in restless spots.
But do not be fooled enough to blink or sigh
For Jack with pointy fingers and lazer eyes
Sends snapping frosts throughout night skies.
Burns lime green leaves as black as Magpies eyes
Stomps on plants with leadend boots.
Its plan is clear to freeze the shoots.
Now our gardens spoilled
spring hadn’t sprung
So we begin again
with steaming
Pony
Dung.

—–

Love/Hate Spring

by Ruth Scribbles

I love the green buds
the flowers too
but they really make me
achoo achoo

My head’s full of water
my eyes itch a LOT
I wish flowers didn’t stink
and cause lots of snot

—–

Spring

by Gary

It’s Springtime in Yorkshire

The Sun is still on vacation

Still waiting for it to be a scorcher

Oh the pigging frustration

The path is covered in ice

And I’ve just landed on my bum

Now I’m wearing last nights rice

And I feel a right dumb dumb

The washing on the line is frozen rock solid

The gale force wind screams over the barren field

The weeds and broken branches makes it look so squalid

The poor garden birds hide in the bushes seeking any decent shield

So Springtime is here which means dust down the garden chair

Now I’m off inside to find my extra thick thermal underwear

—–

Raking Leaves

by Susan Zutautas

Early spring and the ground is smushy

Have to get outside and rake like a hussy

Raking the leaves makes me question

Why I didn’t do this last fall in a session

Now my back is breaking

from all the dam raking

Still have more to do

Picking up all the doggie poo

Leaves have to go into big paper bags

Or they won’t pick them up … what a drag

—–

Thank you all. Tune in tomorrow for next week’s prompt.

yellow tulip in spring
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Inrestrospectawriter: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/28 – 4/3/2020

Welcome to the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. We’re going on 65 weeks now. Perhaps it’s about time to number by date and stop trying to keep track of age.

If you’re new to these parts or could use a refresher, read my basic outline here. We’re about capturing the soul of a novice whilst hurting the sensibilities of a professional.

Here are the specifics for this week:

  1. The Topic is Springtime -or Autumntime if you’re South. You can haiku, limerick, free verse, acrostic, tanka, cinquain, sonnet
  2. Length is wholly dependent on the type of poem you write. If you go with an epic ballad, please cut things off before page 54.
  3. Rhyming also depends on your creation.
  4. The goal is to make it terrible. Mother Earth must rise from her seasonal slumber to smack you with an olive branch of peace.
  5. Keep the Rating at PG or cleaner.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (April 3) to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.

If not, and for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Leave a comment if your pingback doesn’t show up within a day.

Have fun!

yellow tulip in spring
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Springtime for Bad Poets

April showers
Bring June superpowers
And Pilgrim’s pride
Makes me feel like a snowstorm in-
between my apelike toes
As
The world wakes
In flowers
Outside
Against foes
And shakes.

©2020 Chelsea Owens

What’s Your Favorite Holiday? Why?

Since I was a younger, smaller, Chelsea, I’ve loved autumn and winter. Perhaps this is why my favorite holidays have always been the autumn and winter varieties: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

In truth, my affinity for the first and last were likely tied to what I received at each.

Still, that love has persisted into adulthood. When the air outside turns cold enough to nip, a piece inside me stirs awake. I’m a reverse-hibernation animal, stretching and standing -even jumping!- when the first snowflakes fall. I associate the drop in temperature with coloring leaves, jack o’lanterns, and the excitement of trick-or-treating.

Once October passes, my memories turn to the distinct taste of a turkey meal and a thousand side dishes. I remember pies as well: pumpkin, pecan, apple, cherry, banana cream. I love them all! As we gather up the Halloween decorations and prepare to host family, I also look forward to all the loved ones I will talk to and spend time with.

Then, of course, comes Christmas. I hate the commercialism of Christmas, beginning with the first trees the stores put up in July and ending with the children’s over-hypered aftermath late Christmas morning. The spirit and feeling of the holiday, however, are what I love the most. Every year, I try to do something to bring happiness in service -the true meaning of Christmas.

Besides its spirit, I also love seeing everyone think of everyone else. My neighbors give each other presents. Most businesses decorate their fronts. We have tradition, and love, and even more time with family.

Today, Mother Nature finally accepted that it’s October. Wind and chill forewarned of her incoming wrath, followed by a severe temperature drop and even a little snow. I stood in the flurry, barefoot and smiling, as the tiny white particles swirled around me in our porch lights.

Autumn is here. Winter is coming. I’m so excited for what they will bring!

Are you? Is your favorite holiday one of mine, or do you prefer another? What do you love best about your favorite holiday?

thanksgiving-3719247_1920

—————-

Here’s what I wrote this last while:
Wednesday, October 2: Wrote “Have We a Core Personality?

Thursday, October 3: Nothing.

Friday, October 4: Distracted everyone with some funny onesies for babies.

Also, announced the winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to The Abject Muse! Again!

Saturday, October 5: Introduced the 46th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is a spell, a witch’s brew, an incantation, etc. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, October 6: Shared Carrot Ranch‘s Rodeo contest. Charli will be posting a new contest each week, so enter one of them!

Monday, October 7: An inspirational quote by C.S. Lewis.

Tuesday, October 8: “Wilhelmina Winters, One Hundred Seven.” Next week will be the final, final, final, final post for Wil.

Wednesday, October 9: Today.

I also posted all last week at my motherhood site. I wrote “How Do You Dinner?,” “No Kids Allowed: The Death of the Family,” and “The Toilet Seat, a poem.”

 

Photo Credit: Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

©2019 Chelsea Owens

A Tribute to Frank Prem

Today I highlight the work of poet Frank Prem. I’ve enjoyed Frank’s poetry since my first days of blogging and have been inspired to write responses twice.

He possesses the unique gift of speaking in the voice of the objects he writes about; in movement and poignancy.

The following is my paltry attempt at mimicry, so you might all experience his style:

rain (in season)

I am a piece
of gray
a mist
a cloud

evaporate

I am a drip
a tear
from North Wind’s eye

don’t go
he cries

don’t
go

I am
the autumn rain

deluged

oh please
don’t go

©2019 Chelsea Owens