April 23 - Meat

The prompt for this poem is to use the first line of someone else's poem. I'm using Michael Klein's Other Horses

I wept in a stable
the smell of horses
long time gone
as are most of the
animals that used to be
There's been no
steak to be had for 
many years now
no smell of bacon
in the morning
no chicken or eggs
just a constant of
repeat dreams for
Hamburger Helper
that whole meal
we used to make
in one frying pan
We've done this thing
so called 
evolved mankind
killed off everything
except our sorry selves
not a church mouse
nor minnow survived
leaving us to eat
soy patties with
soy protein shakes
cold on the side
all kinds of flavors
except the ones 
we crave
multi-vitamin chasers
cap off our meals
while rumors swirl
sparking excitement
that they've found a
new way to make meat
something they've
done up in a lab
over across the sea
they whoever they are
claim it tastes just like
good ground sirloin
it'll be getting shipped
to our stores any day
Word is it will cost a lot
way more than we
pay now for the soy
but I don't care
I'm saving my dollars
I'll be first in line
for some of that
new Soylent Green

April 22 - How Not to Kill a Chupacabra

The prompt, a "how to" poem


Insert 3 drunk friends

into vehicle

drive said vehicle

down a national

seashore at 2am

on a starless night

amidst low lying

fog that sucks the

watts right out of

your headlights

‘til you’re looking

for boogeymen

to jump on the car

but the only thing

seen is an armadillo

you inform friends

it’s really a chupacabra

your Texas fellow

agrees to this truth

on down the road

another chupacabra

strolls in the middle

brakes slammed

oh damn it I tried

poor chupacabra

arrival at condo

third mate missing

the backseat empty

omg were we UFO’d

then past the shadows

we see missing friend

folded up facedown

in the floorboard

shaking and pulling

fail to stir said friend

fear induced sobriety

breath and pulse

we find are there

when suddenly with

a gymnast’s agility

the potentially deceased

arches twists and flips

in one smooth move

landing upright

where she then demands

what the fuck and hey

who’s got my lighter?!

April 21 - Bless Your Heart

The prompt was to use the sounds of home, how things were said 

As a child there

was Spanish spoken

my mother’s first

language and

then the English

of the father’s

There came a time

we moved away

from the land where

speaking Spanish

brooked no alarms

going to a place far

below the Mason-Dixon

in the deep South

to the people

of the second father

to find that another

kind of English

was the native tongue

And ya’ll was a noun

and a pronoun

and it could be

singular or plural

while bless your heart

was not meant to

seek the Lord’s

intervention in the

care of your heart

rather as a means to

call one dumb as

a bag of hammers

or unable to accomplish

simple tasks

like finding your

ass with both hands

in your back pockets

When telling grandpa

who was pretty old

that his fly was open

he told me simply

that a dead bird

doesn’t fall from the nest

No matter what

was about to be done

everybody was fixin to

when telling Granny

any kind of untruth

she’d lean way back

and look you dead in

your eye and tell you

that dog won’t hunt

The first time one

of the aunts said

butter my biscuit

I went to the kitchen

to look for a biscuit

and some butter

Uncles would tell you

that they might could

carry you to the store

but you’d have to wait

cause it was so hot

that the chickens were

laying hard boiled eggs

For a good long while

I didn’t understand

what was being said

I’d smile and nod

trying to puzzle it out

in the context of all that

had come before

but in the end it

turned out alright

I got to where

I understood them

pretty well

So excuse me now

I gotta get back to work

you know idle hands

are the devil’s work

but before you go

could ya’ll cut

them lights off

and make sure the

hose pipe ain’t dripping

Ya’ll come back now

April 20 - Step-Sister's Lament

The prompt was to write a poem as the minor character in a fairy tale

I didn’t even want

to go to the ball

wearing this

ridiculous dress

that mother and sister

think is so posh

their dreams of

snagging a prince

not one of my own

I wanted to wear

long pants with

shiny black boots

a pirate shirt

billowing cape

with a saber

at my side

sans face paint

and curled wig

wearing only a

roguish smile

upon my lips as

I asked her to dance

this beauty I knew

as Cinderella

into whose

home I’d been thrust

by mother’s marriage

to her father

The first time that

I saw her amid

introductions all round

in morning’s light

among the roses

of her garden

my heart lurched so

that I thought

myself about to die

From that moment on

I lived for the sound

of her voice and

every waking moment

I sought reason

to spend with her

until her father’s

untimely death

and yes

I do wonder about that

when her life

changed in this house

from sibling to servant

under mother’s cruelty

that is such I dare not

attempt to play the hero

So here I sit alone

in this cage of the

feminine silk and tulle

watching her waltz

across the room with

the kingdom’s prince

knowing in this moment

that I will never be

a suitor for her heart

Mother arrives

admonishments fly

sit up straight

straighten your gown

smile pretty

at least pretend

you’re having

a good time for

the gentlemen here

it’s likely you’ll never

gain a prince

but a husband

of some kind

must be had

I watch her twirl

around the room

so light and beautiful

in his arms
that I desperately 

long to be mine

her rescue is at hand

but there is none

to be had for me…

April 19 - Tea time

Prompt was to write a poem for Earth Day


Along the river bank

trees perch

by the toes of

their roots

sipping their

afternoon tea

beneath the

shimmering dome

of sky’s brightest blue

as the Buffalo flows

a dark green Caddy

headed for a meet-up

down at the White

in old Buffalo City

The absence of sound

weaving a spell

of silence that

elegantly drapes itself

along the bluffs

in a quiet so loud

that begs the question

of wakefulness or dream

until the stillness

is slit wide open

bleeding out the magic

to drown in the river

done in by a pod

of thermoplastic

killer whales

shredding the membrane

of this enchantment

as they paddle their way

uninvited into the

belly of this moment

their cacophonous chorus

louder than a

murder of crows

it’s only minutes

that feel like eons

‘til they round the bend

and in the gloaming

comes the wink of fireflies

flitting about

sparking the spell

back into place

as the ghosts of

the ancestors

gather round the fire

to tell the stories

of how it used to be

April 18 - Photograph

Prompt was to use words from a specialty dictionary. I chose photography 


Strewn between

mountain and valley

these artifacts of who

we used to be

all of our sins

against the other

blown out for

a thousand miles

the evil we carved

upon wounded hearts

in the solar flare of

our self-destruction

while the dust bunnies

of what was good

still multiplied in

the days gone by

and now we find

our long since

empty glass

is thirsting anew

for this cocktail

we’ve made up of

two parts forgiveness

and two parts

re-imagination

and a dash of

amnesia

no doubt about it

there’s no halos

to be found among

the budding green

and vibrant blooms

of this new spring

while clipping the rot

of the dead and gone

grinding up the bones

of what used to be

to feed this fertile soil

spraying and praying

to water this garden

between whose furrows

we will dance

throughout the

long summer nights

to the tunes

of our poetry written

under the moonlight

radiant and resplendent

in the delight

of what has always

been between us

that which…just is

April 17 - Love You Forever

Prompt was to use a story that you read a child

Love You Forever
was a book I used 
to read
to my baby’s baby
this child that 
I was raising
because I’d broken
my own into pieces
‘tho I loved her
and never meant to
it was just 
another verse
another ugly chapter
in the eternal story
hurt peple
hurt people
broke her so bad
it’s been years 
since last we
tried to talk
to each other 
in brittle conversations 
that ran off the rails
in all the pain and despair
that I had fed her with
every bite of Gerber’s
every bottle of milk
and every single second
that I was absent
self-medicating my way
through all of the bars
booze, drugs and
comforting arms that
I could find to bandage
my own bloody wounds
until all that was left of us
were these broken hearts

I often hate that
I finally got better
because she didn't
and the guilt gnaws
holes the size of Texas
through my soul
each day
it makes me weep
for her for us 
for the we 
that never was
for the hopes of 
the we of someday
clinging to my life raft  
the thought that
for as long as 
we both shall breathe
there is hope…

I love her forever

I always will