Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Wednesday Wambling...

April 17 and 18: Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month

Yesterday, I was "spoonsless" energy, no focus, no nothing. So, I am doing today today and yesterday today....or something....

Yesterday: Today is a Two for Tuesday prompt day. Here they are: Write a science fiction poem. Write a fantasy poem.

I pick one, usually,. on Two for Tuesday. But I have had both of these ideas in my head recently, as in, science fiction or fantasy--which is which. So today, I will combine them.

Fairy Tale, NOT

It's science--
You can't get pregnant
Without having sex.
Really. Fact.

It's science fiction--
New legislation
In Air Zone "A",
That says you can.

No, take that back.
It says you ARE.
Two weeks before,
To be precise--

And just signed
Into toxic law
By the "Brewer",
Bad Witch of the South.

Precisely stupid.
Science, no.
Fiction, yes.
I think you call that

Fantasy. But not
The kind where elves
And loving fairies
Grant your wishes.

No. Not at all.
This fantasy is
Cruel and toxic.
The "bad witch" wins.

And now
We all know
How much lawmakers
Care for women,

Women's health.
Women's issues.
Not a bit.
Not at all.

And our new
Story of freedom?
Our new tale?
Our "his" story?

Evil. Impossible.
Not science. Fiction.
Fantasy. The dark kind.

Today: For today’s prompt, think of a favorite regional cuisine, make that the title of your poem, and then, write the poem.

Green Jello

It's become an icon,
A legend of our state,
Although it wasn't something
The Pioneers once ate,

It's now been made immortal
In an Olympics pin.
And there are competitions
About what you put in.

Cottage cheese and carrots?
Pineapple? Maybe so...
But if you want to make it
You first will have to know

The mystic secret (shhh--it's not repeated...)
It looks delightful. But---no one will eat it.

© Aisling the Bard, 2012. All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 16, 2012


Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month; April 14-16

Was offline most of the weekend, so here are my poems for Saturday, Sunday, and today, with prompts attach. Hope you don't get an attack of poemitis reading three at a time...

April 14:

For today’s prompt, write a doomsday poem. Some of you may remember the world was supposed to end last year (actually twice last year), but that’s nothing new. Every few years there seems to be a new “end of world” prediction (anyone remember Y2K?). In fact, this year had a movie made after it in relation to the Mayan calendar (btw, my dad is one of those who actually believes in the 2012 doomsday prediction), and there’s a whole industry built around end times preparations. So why not write a poem about it?

I got silly here--I am actually quite annoyed with the topic of this poem, but there's nothing I can do about it, so why not laugh?

Doggie Doomsday

It's the end of the world as you know it--
Don't believe me? Well, wait, and I'll show it--
I'm calling the cops
On you and your pet--
Your dog hasn't learned
About "shut up!" yet...
At three a.m. I'm wide awake
Because of the noise he can't help but make.
And you're the main reason, you dumbass Jim.
You're supposed to have trained him. I don't blame him.
You're the one. Pay your fine, and don't blow it.
And if I had a shoe, I would throw it!!


April 15:

For today’s prompt, use the following five words in your poem: slash, button, mask, strap, and balloon. Use them in any order.

I chose alphabetically, just to make it more interesting. And my form here is a "Haiku Stack", which is a number of Haiku put together as one poem. I used one "required" word per haiku.

Prepare For Takeoff

It's all blowing up
Into a huge gossip game,
Ballooning wildly

Into a mad mess
Of hurt feelings.
People are
Pushing buttons. We

All wear the same mask
Of insouciance. No one
Will admit it, but

We feel every slash
Of another one's mean words.
We all want to stop

But no one will be
The first to shut up. Strap in.
Don't enjoy the ride.


April 16:

For today’s prompt, write a mixed up poem. I guess there are a few ways to come at this poem. Your narrator could have mixed feelings about something. Or a character could get “mixed up” in something. Or the poem could be about mixing up a drink. Or a mixtape. Or however you wish to mix this prompt/poem up.

I think I'll go with the "mixed feelings" suggestion here, and I think I'll try a sonnet form, because it's rigid and organized, and might help the feelings become more so.

Lost In The Mix

There's too much to remember when I speak
With one dear daughter, separated by
The miles of distance, and the years of life.
No matter how I try to fix it, I
Am sure to say the wrong thing. Not unique
To us is not recalling that we can't
Say things in e-mail (which, you know, is rife
With pitfalls!) which come out the way we want
Them to. The nuances are lost, and we
Can only see bleak words upon a page.
We hurt each other, and we never know
How we can fix it. I wish I could show
Her how I feel, but I know, at her age,
She just can't listen. After all, it's me.


All works
© Aisling the Bard, 2012. All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 13, 2012

Lucky, Eh?

April 13, 2012: Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month

For today’s prompt, write an unlucky poem. Today is Friday the 13th, and I think it’s the perfect opportunity to wax poetic about anything and everything unlucky.

The whole concept of "luck" is an iffy one for me. I am not sure how I define that word, how I contrast it with Fate, and if I even believe there is such a thing as luck. And yet, and yet--there are those things that, anyhoo, here's my attempt to talk about "being unlucky".

Luck, Is It?

Why do I feel
As if I am never
The one who could
Call herself "lucky"?

So much in my life
Is wonderful, so
Why do I disdain
To call it all "luck"?

Nothing happens to me,
In my opinion,
That is "luck",
As I define it.

I work damn hard
For each and every
Thing I want to
Achieve in my life.

I don't take chances
Nor do I expect
The Universe to
Simply shit gold on me.

I don't have "luck"
When it comes to my life.
I plan it. I work it.
And sometimes, I miss it.

Sometimes, I don't win.
No lottery. No legacy.
But if I want it badly,
I'll work till it happens.

So, I am not "lucky".
I am "unlucky".
But, I don't care.
Because--I am happy.

© Aisling the Bard, 2011. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 12, 2012


April 12, 2012: Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Something (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Example titles might include: “Something New,” “Something Strange,” “Something at the End of This Book,” or “Something Something.”

And today, there was also a suggestion about writing a "Tanka" which is a Japanese poem-form resembling the haiku, but of five lines, arranged syllabically thus: 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. So I am going to write this prompt, as a Tanka.

Something Unusual

I saw this happen.
I saw someone smile at me,
I saw smiling eyes,
As I was kissing my wife.
In public. In Utah. Wow.

© Aisling the Bard, 2012. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


April 11, 2012: Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month

For today’s prompt, pick a season (any season) and make it the title of your poem; then, write your poem. For instance, your poem might be titled “Winter” or “Spring” or “Rabbit Season” (if you have a sense of humor and like Looney Tunes cartoons).

Stupid Season

It's an election--
Once more,
Seeds of rhetoric
Scatter themselves
Across the airwaves.

It's predicated
To grow morons,
No matter how
The human humus.

No one thinks
Anything worth
Thinking, doing,
Will come of this.

But every four years
We do it anyway.
Stupid as those
Who keep planting
More seeds

In toxic ground
Thinking surely
This time
As never before
Something will grow.

We should plow them all under.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Forest? Trees? Difference?

April 10, 2012: Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month

Today’s “Two-for-Tuesday” prompts are:

  1. Write a Forest poem.
  2. Write a Tree poem.

You can literally write about a forest. Or you can literally write about a tree. Or you can dive right into the metaphor separating the two. Your choice. Get creative with it.

I have been lost, a bit, in a couple of forests, bumping up against a few trees, the kind that keep moving when you're not looking. This is a very apt prompt for me, one that will help me figure out what part of my dilemma is forest (the underlying situation) and what part is trees (individual aspects thereof), and how to tell them apart when I am trying to find my way out of there...

The Aspen Conundrum...

This, not that.
Or, in some cases,
Do I really mean
That, not this?

I do not understand
The details of some forests
In which I find myself
Intrinsically entangled.

Perhaps each separate "tree"
Is more important than
The interconnections
Of something that is one thing.

But how can something
Borne in, born in,
The very blood
Become irrelevant?

I don't know which is tree.
I don't know which is forest.
I don't know where I fit.
Maybe I should explain...

It reminds me of
My back yard,
Where there is one
Amazing aspen tree...

And of course you know
An aspen tree
Sends out "suckers",
Attached new shoots

Which burrow underground
And eventually
Poke their heads up
To become new trunks.

Of course, beneath the soil
They're all still connected.
An "aspen grove" is,
In reality, one tree.

So when I try to
Clear the lawn of "suckers",
Shoots where I don't want them,
I am cutting the main tree.

It's kind of like family...
There's my conundrum.
I have wonderful kids
And they're all grownups.

They love me, I guess...
I know I love them...
My grandkids are amazing--
And yet--they are separate.

My kids have their own lives.
I have my own life.
I might be the "main tree"
But we grow independently.

So--what does one do
When one doesn't want
Aspen shoots all over
The rest of the yard,

But one does want to keep
A few selected shoots
Which have been pruned
And groomed into a grove?

And what does one do
When one feels connected
At the root, in the blood,
To one's children, now adults,

But also, I'm aware,
For the most part, I am
Irrelevant to dailyness--
They are they. I am I.

We are connected,
But not symbiotic,
Not identical, not aspen trees.
We're individual people.

And so, my conundrum...
Are these people, my "trees",
All in the family forest
Going to be injured

When we begin to disconnect?
Unlike aspens, which are all
One tree, we are simply
One forest, different trees...

I don't want to lose connection.
I don't want to be irrelevant.
And yet I want to live
My own life, without symbiotes.

I want my kids and grandkids
To be strong, independent,
Sufficient in themselves,
And yet, I want connection...

And of course, this is not
At all the same situation
As wanting my aspen tree
To live, but be separate

From the ubiquitous shoots
It sends out, continually,
In places where the last thing
I want is another tree.

So I'm thinking. Am I
The forest, or a tree, here?
Am I, are my children
Connected at the bloodroot,

Or are we, must we be
Separate, each entity
A member of a forest
But a different kind of tree?

I have yet to decide.
Every day, I am thinking--
And I do it when I go
To the yard to prune aspens.

© Aisling the Bard, 2012. All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 9, 2012


April 9: Poem-A-Day Challenge, National Poetry Month

For today’s prompt, write a shady poem. I’ll leave the interpretation of this prompt up to you. It could be a poem that includes shadows and/or shading. It could be about a shady part of town or a shady person. Or well, something else.

In The Shade...

It was shady,
Up on the porch
Watching grandkids
Hunting eggs
In the sun,
Watching daughters
Laughing, hugging, dancing.
Watching with Mom,
As life sparkled by.
Once in a while
Someone came up,
David, mostly,
To speak to us.
Siblings stopped
And chatted a bit.
People came by
For photos, for hugs.
I was honored
With flan, made special
By T, just for me...
I held hands
With Brie, with Mom,
And looked and laughed
And watched the swing,
And the tree-climb,
And the egg-hunt,
And the interactions
Of children, and grandkids
And dogs, and siblings
And butterflies and birds
And sunshine and cameras.
I danced a bit,
I sat in the shade
At the picnic table
And was hugged by,
And talked to by,
Various grandkids,
On their way to
Somewhere else.
I thought of trying
The tree-climb,
But didn't.
The day was a
Of people and actions,
Of light and color,
Of impressions--
A symphony
Of sound and life.
I was part of it,
I think.
But somehow the moments
That most define the day
Are the ones I spent
Sitting on the deck,
Holding Mom's hand,
Or Brie's hand
And watching life
Pass before me
As I relaxed
In the shade.

© Aisling the Bard, 2012. All Rights Reserved