“There’s No such Thing as Time”

spider web poem

Original Poem:

Whirls reality, there’s no such time as Now
whose dreams swept , fleeting like the stars
whose flushed our universe in oceans arched
whose figure-eight returns to no-such place
Where there’s no future nor a past remain
we’re left with sacred,

sacred time
no future, past remain
whose figure-eight returns to no such place.
Flushed our swirling universe in oceans arched
whose dreams burn, fleeting like the stars.
Still,  reality,
our time,
is only

On Death

credit: Dreamstime.com“On Death”

Since people fearful of this topic most,

its theme does pleasure no one but our host.

Man’s muddied up the waters for review

and so our turbid topic in a stew.

He’s known by cryptic such as ‘passed away’

or some do like to say ‘he could not stay’.

And some resound ‘he’s gone to better place’

but none of us seem willing in the chase.

Though subject’s known to all, and all will cuss

that time when he may come, we all adjust.

To those who gripe and moan and then debate

the terror and the ills of his estate,

‘Tis only death who offers apt reply:

“What better options lie beneath your sky?”

I challenge you to write a poem in the form of a review. You can review either animate or inanimate things, real places or imaginary places. You can write in the style of an online review (think Yelp) or something more formal that you might find in a newspaper or magazine. (I imagine that bad reviews of past boyfriends/girlfriends might be an easy way to get into this prompt, though really, you can “review” anything in your poem, from summer reading lists for third graders to the idea of the fourth dimension).

Day 28, NaPoWriMo

Golden Gate Bridge(iron worker atop the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco)

Golden, magic bridge:

your artisans so wondrous

filling up the sky

Golden Gate bridge two

A bridge is a powerful metaphor. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.

Day 27, NaPoWriMo

hates the
jogging, happy talker.

It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem. For example, you could write a hay(na)ku sonnet, like the one that Vince himself wrote back during NaPoWriMo 2012!

Lady Lincoln

Mary Lincoln

“Lady Lincoln”

I keep my fashion as Lady Godey;

my family, aristocratic, lean

and with my many suitors, life is gay

but Lincoln’s borrowed horse not what they dream.

My people pray he is a fading fad;

no life or love with Abraham they deem.

And all historians who cast me ‘mad’;

their hatefulness a jealous motive seem.

The one great truth through all our misery:

a melancholia treads through our past

and not with lies of Herndon’s history.

With love was Mr. Lincoln and I cast.

I cry from out my grave so all may hear:

we are a pair, devout; to each, hold dear!

Day 25, NaPoWriMo

It’s true that Bruce Jenner
looks quite a bit thinner
in his new Maxi dress
whose stripes should impress.

A clerihew is a whimsical, four-line biographical poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The first line is the name of the poem’s subject, usually a famous person put in an absurd light. The rhyme scheme is AABB, and the rhymes are often forced. The line length and meter are irregular. Bentley invented the clerihew in school and then popularized it in books. One of his best known is this (1905):

“Sir Christopher Wren

Said, “I am going to dine with some men.

If anyone calls,

Say I am designing St. Paul’s.”

Day 24, NaPoWriMo


I think that I shall never see

a pizza lovelier than thee.

Its sausages so plump and round

against my mirthful mouth, abound.

A pizza waiting close of day

when mouths shall open up the way

to gobble gulps in front of my TV.

To savor its red, roundness that I see.

Upon my bosom lay remains

that Fido soon will munch, retain.

Oh, lovely was that pie for me

and for my Fido, munching free.

(See: Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees”) Prompt: write a parody or satire based on a famous poem.

Day 23, NaPoWriMo

one-eyed jack's“One-Eyed Jack”

You, One-Eyed Jack, you’ll be the death of me!

Seems trust is not a part of your true game.

You cover up and hid your feelings. Gee!

You bluff your way and cause my heart great pain!

You bluster, then you brag and then you choose

to hang out in the deck assiduously

with nothin’ but a moldy, meager deuce.

I’ve said before, you’re not the man for me.

The King is most adept at suicide;

a spear is stuck into his blatant head.

The Queen is stoic, in her hand she hides

a single posy in her hand, imbed.

But you, you bear a falsity; you hack!

Your game is dark and heathen, blackest Jack!

Find a deck of cards (regular playing cards, tarot cards, uno cards, cards from your “Cards Against Humanity” deck – whatever), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Now, begin free-writing based on the card you’ve chosen. Keep going without stopping for five minutes. Then take what you’ve written and make a poem from it. (Hat tip to Amy McDaniel for the idea!)

Day 22, NaPoWriMo

Day 22, NaPoWriMo Write a “pastoral” poem. Traditionally, pastoral poems involved various shepherdesses and shepherds talking about love and fields, but yours can really just be a poem that engages with nature.

Breakers Hotel

“Palm Beach Pastoral”

We’ll meet, my darling, by the shim`ring sea.

We’ll dip our toes into a surf sublime.

And in the afterglow, a cup of tea

as floating gulls will flap their wings to dine.

We’ll dine on caviar before we meet,

amidst the palms, their social gathering.

The palms will sway and dance their hula greet

while nature’s beams upon our ballroom gleam.

Was ever sunlit dance so lush as this

as rustling of my silks spin ‘cross the floor?

Was ever world so brightly kissed

with moonlight and such glamor to adore?

So, take my hand, we’ll waltz across this floor

to all of nature’s thrills; still wanting more.

(Photo: the Breaker’s Ballroom, Palm Beach, Florida.  I have lived, since 1944, across the bridge from ‘the Breakers’ in WEST Palm Beach, Florida).