Strummed Words

Magpie Tales: The Phone Booth

2012-02-24T16:51:00.003-05:00

image: epic mahoney

Multi colored images chase through my mind
As I listen to the sounds of your voice.

What you impart to me filters through
And leaves me saddened by your suddenness,

Your anguish not relieved by my care,
Nor your fluid notes of music stopped by my fears.

submitted to Magpie Tales.
Copyright, Gerry at Strummed Words, 2012

Magpie Tales: Red Sofa

2011-12-01T17:29:00.007-05:00

Red Chair

I cheer you on, lonely and
red but blue on a concrete
sidewalk, waiting to be
warmed by human touch,
too frail to stand much
wear and tear, only
a few seasons left.

Yet you stand out, singular,
with a promise of hope
for any wanton wayward person
stumbling along,
to find a way
unexpectedly, surprisingly,
cautiously, at home.

Gerry Young/Strummed Words 2011

Visit Magpie Tales for more responses to this picture prompt.
Also submitted to the Poetry Pantry

The Light

2011-11-30T22:38:00.006-05:00

Rowing

Rowing towards the light,
I float facing the rising sun,
hoping to find you,
framed by the glow
that hides your face
in shadows.

-Gerry Young/Strummed Words, 2011
submitted to Poetry Jam, Gooseberry Garden, Poetry Pantry

Magpie Tales: Commas

2011-11-23T15:12:00.004-05:00

two commas intertwined

a yin and yang,

an undulating wave,

complete in itself,

nothing intrudes.

- Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Magpie Tales for more poetry, vignettes based on the picture prompt.

Magpie Tales: Chairs

2011-11-19T18:42:00.003-05:00

from Magpie Tales; Google image; photographer unknown

Look Over My Shoulder

Surrounded by chairs,
there is no place that I can sit.

I walk towards a foggy light
hoping to find you there.
Amid the empty spaces,
your face grows ever tender,
while I see over my shoulder
a past I cannot soon forget.

So long, forever.
I cannot turn around
nor can I go astray
from this, my chosen way.

- Gerry Young/Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Magpie Tales for other poetry, vignettes using this photo prompt

Three Word Wednesday: Dull

2011-09-21T13:23:00.002-04:00

Dull

That was a dull race,
yawn!

No fireworks, crash and
burns, no hawking
or spitting of fire

into the ears, eyes
and faces of unwary,
hungry spectators.

A double yawn!

For weekly prompts, visit Three Word Wednesday.

Haiku: Bubbles

2011-09-21T08:15:00.009-04:00

Shimmery balls float
spheres of water covered air,
the golden koi breathes.

-Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Haiku Heights for more haiku and prompts.

And a free verse:

Children blowing bubbles
chase in the wind,
touching with tender fingertips
soft bursts of air.

- Gerry/Strummed Words

Sea Spume

2011-09-19T11:21:00.003-04:00

photo courtesy of Ainsley Allmark at Dolphin Visions

Sea Spume

falls over my face
and recklessly draws me in
but for a chance encounter
with a creature in fins and
shining black skin, arrow in hand,
who walks out of the water
and warns of the pull
of the tide that will
take me in inexorably,
no matter how beautifully
it sprays and flows
and falls.

copyright: Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Poetry Jam, Poetry Picnic, and The Gooseberry Garden for more verse using this or other prompts.

Sunday 160: What Can I Say?

2011-09-18T12:41:00.003-04:00

Oh, Fool

You ask me for words
in a few lines or less
to say what
I see in my mind.

You take me for a fool,
but more the fool you,
for not seeing
what I see.

copyright: Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Write exactly 160 characters, including spaces, and then link up with Monkey Man for this week's Sunday 160.

The Future to Come

2011-08-22T10:16:00.008-04:00

graphic from The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Potluck

The fig leaves flew to their thighs
like magnets to metal
the moment Adam crushed
the red apple
of promise,
flushing his lips with
the taste of forbidden,
while Eve held it
seductively
like a glowing crystal ball
showing the future to come.

Purple Paint on the Walls

2011-08-16T10:48:00.007-04:00

photo from Magpie Tales

A coat of yellow, blue, beige or brown
Will freshen these walls, but what about you?

The purple of bruise, the black of default,

and the red of decay.

Where will you go to cover up

the color of your voice,

the tenor of your walk,

the sway of your hair.

Walk with me awhile
to the corner of the street

to see plums and mauves,

the maroons and the sunny green

that will give you shade.

Visit Magpie Tales and Jingle Poetry for more poetry, vignettes.

A Hat on the Floor

2011-08-13T12:13:00.017-04:00

courtesy of Dover Publications

The Hat on the Floor ( in Memory of Mom )

The hat has flowers
A plume of pink floats on
the wind wafting to the right
as if to catch attention.

I see you smile at the vision
of it, marking your place
on the shores of white, green,
brass, and dark ink.

You wave and wait with cheer
as if to say,
See me here.
I am the only one
to wave to you, like this,
a pink bobble in my hair.

Visit Monday Poetry Train Revisited and Poetry Jam, Poets United and We Write Poems for more poetry.

Magpie Tales: Afloat

2011-06-27T10:56:00.001-04:00

Endeavor, Lino Tagliapietra, Columbus Museum of Art

AFLOAT

Afloat in a dark sea

I dream of sailing

far from the land I see.

Would that it were so

that mermaids and mermen too

would sail you across the dream

and enter into a sea world

where breath comes in,

smoke and air is fragrant

with the grass that wavers

intense, and mind wanders

in undulating streams

afloat.

Words, worlds, whorls

2011-06-12T21:13:00.008-04:00

Sparkling, spirited,
topical, colorful,
authentic, terse,
exquisite, intricate.

A whorl of words
to describe a tomb
where words lie down
in the form and shape
of a book.

- copyright, Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Magpie Tales for more takes on this picture prompt.
Visit One Shot Wednesday, Poetry Potluck, Monday Poetry Train, The Poetry Pantry

One Single Impression: Rambling

2011-05-22T07:07:00.006-04:00

Rambling Rose

Rambling, you take me with you,
flowing through your arms
in soft lines and easy grace.

What more should I ask
than that the flowers
of your face shine
with mine along the way.

Sparkling here and there,
the fruits of your labor
turn into golden globes
that wander easily from me.

-copyright Gerry/Strummed Words 2011

Exhibition Song: Don't Wanna Nevermore

2011-05-18T13:58:00.013-04:00

Don't wanna see your face,
don't wanna hear your voice,
nor remember that look,
that haughty grace.

No more for me, just let it be
so I forget the vibes
dancing across my mind,
sending out wild jibes
to scramble all my senses.

You may be glad to see me
but on this we can agree.
It was never pleasant
to float adrift in the wide moat
of your persistent glee.

(copyright, Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2011)

Spring migration

2011-05-08T06:05:00.011-04:00

Written for Writers Island and Big Tent Poetry, this poem celebrates Spring and the migratory songbirds that pass by Lake Erie on their way north.

A bird in the bush is worth
more than two birds in the hand.
Free to leap from branch to branch,
to tantalize with warbles and whistles,
songs that hold us rapt, in awe.
The free bird knows and has its way.

A hand that releases to wind and sky
will see birds heading north or south,
called by the sun. Like migrating birds, it
grant us freedom as one.

- copyright, Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Loosely

2011-04-23T14:51:00.000-04:00

Loosely, like a lone loser
Straddling the fence
with the hay in the background.
A straw between lips,
hat on sideways
blowing in the wind.

Watching for dust in the road,
a lizard in the grass,
a toad by the lonely stream.

Loosely, loner.

NaPoWriMo: Day 4 - Heartrose

2011-04-04T05:58:00.016-04:00

To recognize InternNaPwoWriMo or International Pwoemrd Writing Month, I'm writing a One Word poem for today. Click on the link to join or read more one-word creations.

In memory of my bichon frise Harvey, who left us three years ago - a one word poem and an explanation...

heartrose

You loved the rosebush

where your ashes lie
lining the soil.

Red roses bloom

in your memory.

I think of you still,
the intelligence in your eyes,
your knowledge of
who we are reflected
in the directness of your gaze.

Forever in our hearts,
a heartrose.

NaPoWriMo - Day 3: Predictions

2011-04-03T06:50:00.013-04:00

The prompt for Day 3 is Predicting Your Death, when and where. Not too gruesomely, here goes.....

I Predict

I'll rue the day I step
into the street in my Manolo Blahnik's
with its three-inch heels on my too small feet.

Cars will honk, busses blare, drivers
whistle as they whizz by
staring at those bright red markers on my feet.

The next day I will wear
my Christian Louboutains,
direct from Paris, with the red soles
shining like a magic marker
on a slick street.

The gawkers will shout, I will stumble,
my Louboutains fly,
and I'll land under a car marked Lexus.
So this is how I reach that shoe haven,
taken by a speeding silver bullet,
walking high as I pass by.

copyright, Gerry Young, Strummed Words 2011

NaPoWriMo: Day 2 - Book Titles

2011-04-02T08:09:00.011-04:00

I'm late to the poetry writing party...but here's something for day 2. Taking the titles of three books on my shelf nearby, here is what I've come up with.

Book Titles

The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady

with Strings Attached

recalls The Summoner

to her side,

for more mischief

than the world can abide.

NaPoWriMo - Day 1 Rhyming Green

2011-04-02T07:53:00.011-04:00

Rhyming

In a rush of words

to find the right fit,

like climbing fjords,

pulling at rocks, words,

bit by bit.

Laying puzzles on table,

to show what form

that we are able,
until the words express
with little excess.

A Doggerel of Sorts

2011-03-23T16:05:00.008-04:00

If law students can rent a dog
for therapy sessions
in half hour segments,
perhaps my neighbors
will let me pet their corgi for free.

We are separated by
a fence of no consequence,
yet I hear them at four
in the morning,
barking perhaps
at who knows what.

Maybe just the feeling
of freely running
in the dark, cool air
chasing after their tails
keeps me awake
and wondering.

-Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2011.

I'm Looking Over....

2011-03-15T22:47:00.019-04:00

Picture prompt by Magpie Tales

Green clover for luck

on a cloudy day

full of fire, water, parched cracks

creeping on sidewalks

where people once converged.

May purple blossoms

spring renewal,

bloom pink cheeks and

blush in clean air and bright space,

for the spring to come.

Spiced!

2011-03-10T11:51:00.011-05:00

Magpie Tales provides a picture prompt each week for writers.

My life is set in days of only three

So I must spice that life so merrily,

Using herbs that come from far away,

That flavor soup with taste that's just my way.

Bulbs and leaves and stems from foreign lands,

Though I seek what just will fall into my hands,

For I grow my own, in my garden so diffuse.

My preferences are fine and not obtuse.

You may come and sit at almost any time

And sample foods divine which are only mine.

For me, the magic flavors will abide

Through herbs, sweet spices. None will stem that tide.

Top Down Improvisation

2011-02-27T11:36:00.012-05:00

You project your past
into the present
and carry it into
the future past.

Life lived over and over
in the same pattern,
like a shadow on a wall
that casts itself each afternoon.

A tape never ending
going around in circles
that meet themselves again,
tightly wound.

Without diversion,
distraction, the loop
of life rewinds
around your memory.

copyright, Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2011

Submitted also for One Shot Wednesday

Snow Spots

2011-02-27T00:37:00.009-05:00

Stacey of The Odd Inkwell brings us this week's prompt, vellicate, which means to

tickle: touch (a body part) lightly so as to excite the surface nerves and cause uneasiness, laughter, or spasmodic movements
pinch: irritate as if by a nip, pinch, or tear; "smooth surfaces can vellicate the teeth"; "the pain is as if sharp points pinch your back" from www.wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snow Spots

Once more winter
falls heedlessly,
touching my eyes,
lips, cheeks,

A cold touch vellicates
tender skin
cocooned indoors,
ice particles remind
of another world.

One Shoot/One Shot: Modern Darth

2011-02-20T09:50:00.025-05:00

I saw Darth Vader
on a Hollywood sidewalk.
He goes almost everywhere
looking for a photo hawk.
For a tip he'll pose.
Where he comes from, who knows.
He'll sing for his supper
or play you a tune,
delight small children,
wrapped up in his cocoon
of black silk and metal hard,
singing, playing the modern bard.
-copyright Gerry/Strummed Words, 2011

Foretell (Tanka)

2011-02-19T08:49:00.029-05:00

Slow calm to settle
Waters will weigh all their blue
clarity to reign
An easiness to hover;
Hurricanes lose lustful winds.

copyright Gerry, Strummed Words 2011
I've tweaked this poem a bit and may do so again!
Writer's Island prompt this week: foretell

Salt Shake

2011-02-17T09:18:00.008-05:00

photo by Magpie Tales

Stay where you are
on that dark table
under the curtained window.

Do not venture out
onto my dining place
for you are of the past,
your crystal sheen only a parade.
Empty yourself of your sands
no more to preside over my palate,
your pernicious poison.
Salt, away! Be gone!

-copyright Gerry Young/Strummed Words, 2011

Incandescent Trails (tanka)

2011-02-14T07:01:00.014-05:00

Incandescent trails

the silver of your footsteps

silk the threads of time

meandering from gardens

casting a spell over mine.

Love in the Old Home (Tanka)

2011-02-12T02:08:00.066-05:00

Though this very tree
May cast a long shadow sere
This does not mean, dear,
That absence was meant to be.
I await again again
Your sweet love to banish pain.

Writer's Island: Beguiling

2011-02-05T06:53:00.010-05:00

Writer's Island prompt this week: Beguile

graphic courtesy of Dover Publications

I am not entranced
By your skin deep beauty
Nor your frivolous garb,
Your talk of fame across
The frame of your life.

Spare me your coy words,
Your sweet churlish smile
And pretty posturing,

I am immune to such.
Too much to endure, I know,

Your eventual walking away
With another in the palm
Of your feckless hand,
Your fingers entwining
Another face, beguiling.

- copyright Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2011

Monday Poetry Train

Haiku Challenge: Desert

2011-02-04T06:22:00.006-05:00

Click here for the 28-day Haiku Challenge hosted by Pen Down My Thought

photo provided by Pen Down My Thought

Sand covers my face

A dust storm of flying jinns,

Bright yellow my world.

- copyright Gerry Young, Strummed Words 2011

Before the Storm

2011-02-01T13:26:00.010-05:00

A hand sifts down
Snow fine as dust
A frosting it makes,
A painting of nuances.

Waiting for the storm
To crust the dust
Into ice and patterns of mist,
I enjoy the fine art
Of nature's touch on the land.

- copyright Gerry Young, Strummed Words 2011

Haiku Splendor

2011-01-29T17:55:00.013-05:00

Haiku Heights - prompt: Splendor.

Graphic courtesy of Dover Publications

Soft cascading snow

Falls splendor on my garden,

Hides the wilted rose.

- Gerry Young, Strummed Words 2011

Rhyming

2011-01-28T15:08:00.014-05:00

Graphic courtesy of Dover Publications

-Gerry Young, 2001

Rhyming

In a rush of words
To find the right fit,
Climb the sides of hills,
Pull forward bit by bit.
Lay puzzles as on a table,
Let hands and mind whirl
To create a world of whorls,
Rhyming words as you will,
Or as you are able.

Visit Friday Flash 55 for more prose and poetry.

Snowy Woods

2011-01-27T07:40:00.007-05:00

Snowy Woods

A sign, in my mind,
Tells me to turn, right
Onto a road away
From the bright light
Of these snowy woods.

I won't desist
Even if my mind resists
The taking of a road
Going I know not where,
Anywhere but here.

Now my GPS would
Not lead me onward
Over a cliff or precipice,
Now, would it?

- Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Magpie Tales for more on the visual prompt.
We Write Poems, Big Tent Poetry

Microfiction Monday: Fog

2011-01-24T07:26:00.004-05:00

Visit Stony River at Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 characters, or even fewer.

Fog

Waiting for the ferry
To appear at the bridge
We stood expectant, merry
Our faces, ridged
But eager to smile
Your return in a while.

Rankle

2011-01-23T15:30:00.010-05:00

Graphic courtesy of Dover Publications.

I've cut my hair,
Gotten a new look,
Wear a bright smile
With glitter eyes.
Yet your betrayal still
Stinks, rankles under
The face of my new self.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2011
Visit Sunday 160, Big Tent Poetry, Jingle Poetry Potluck, and One Single Impression for more prose and poetry.

Magpie Tales: Three

2011-01-20T08:30:00.020-05:00

Three female Magi,
Wise women
Seeking a cauldron
Of fire set in snow.

Burning or frozen,
In a charmed circle
Listen or spin
Stories of days gone by
And those to come.

The future shows in
Smoky tendrils, ghostly faces
Shimmer in cold snow
Inviting confidences
Of what they know.

Microfiction Monday: Parasol

2011-01-19T11:02:00.006-05:00

Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 characters, or even fewer.

Parasol

Don't, shouted he,
Destroy my painted parasol.
It was bequeathed to me,
An ancient work of art,
Irreplaceable. Let it be.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2011

Saturday Centus: The Lottery Ticket

2011-01-15T08:01:00.006-05:00

The Lottery Ticket

The ticket in my pocket,
Burns a hole which I cover
With a trembling finger.

Her eyes challenge.
The matching numbers
Do I dare show?

Z is for Zen

2011-01-12T09:35:00.015-05:00

Z is for zero, zen
Y is for yoga, yogi

Measuring time in zeros,
Space in infinity,

Zeroing in to timeless
Out of body experience

Yogic form, zero gravity.

Saturday Centus: Orange

2011-01-08T14:22:00.005-05:00

Orange

You funny person,

Pretending to be orange

Below that white hair

On a perfectly oval face.

Your coat of snow green

With silly ears and a single button

Can hardly hide a smile.

Don't be smug or be sorry,

The cold will not bite your skin

Nor will winter breezes blow

Away your inner calm.

Just be aware of hunger and

Thirst that will value your taste

Over your coquettish pose.

Destiny

2011-01-08T13:48:00.003-05:00

Destination Unknown

Let destiny take me where it will,
I will not refuse the game
Of hide and seek, search
Or destroy. I will only
Fail to yield whenever
Fate takes a hand that
Moves too quickly
Over my watchful face.

Destiny walks where she will
Take over your wildest schemes
And flaunt success in your face,
Or rather, rant at failure supreme.
A cunning lady, or perhaps a man,
No gentleman is he, to wade
Through a life irregardless
Of natural outcome. Take heed.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2011

For Writer's Island.

Friday Flash 55: Breathing Machine

2011-01-07T09:17:00.002-05:00

Breathing Machine

Breathe in, breathe out
Through constricted spaces
That flow outward into vacuum.

Gasp, wheeze, sneeze,
A cough clears spasms
That flow into sterile tubing.

A sudden movement,
Face cleared, mask removed,
A button pushed, freedom gained.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2011

Visit Friday Flash 55 for more words.

Magpie Tales: I Cannot Write

2011-01-05T10:46:00.004-05:00

I Cannot Write

That blue object haunts my thoughts.

I want it to come apart, to show its purpose,

To turn it around and test its mettle,

Feel its coldness like steel on flesh,

Look through its spaces like a mask

Of life or death.

See Magpie Tales for more prose and poetry for the picture prompt this week.

Embarking: First Poem of the Year

2011-01-02T10:08:00.008-05:00

New Year's Resolutions

I left for a few days,
Or maybe a week or two,
I can't recall in detail.

She was still there
Waiting it seems
For something to jell,

To fuse in memory
And coalesce in clumps,
To flow in the wind

And in reality to form
Drops of heart, soul
Intention. Wise words

To form where hints
Lie fallen and were
Retraceable, renewable.

To pick up the pieces
Of a life worth a life,
Lives worth knowing, intact.

Magpie Tales: Guessing Game

2010-12-29T10:48:00.001-05:00

See Magpie Tales for more prose and poetry for the picture prompt this week.

Hands uncovered

Was my first thought.

Leather, was my second.

Buckles, small male I surmised.

I wanted to wait for the owner

To return for his gloves,

To see if I was right.

Winter Waltz: Microfiction Monday

2010-12-20T09:24:00.006-05:00

Will you, won't you join the dance?
He coaxed her onto the ice.
There's a couple right behind us
And it would be so nice.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2010

"Will you walk a little faster?" Said a whiting to a snail
There's a porpoise close behind us
And he's treading on my tail.

See how eagerly the lobster and the turtles all advance.
They are waiting on the shingle.
Will you come and join the dance.

Will you, won't you,
Will you, won't you,
Will you, won't you, join the dance?

Will you, won't you,
Will you, won't you,
Won't you, will you, join the dance?

la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la

will you, wont you
will you, wont you
wont you, will you join the dance?
(lyrics from Alice in Wonderland by http://www.actionext.com/)

Stony River at Microfiction Monday invites you to write 140 characters or fewer to tell a story using the picture prompt.

Gifting Grinches

2010-12-19T14:41:00.005-05:00

Graphic courtesy of Dover Publications.

Gifting

Giving should be easy
This time of year,
Who to gift and what,
To those near and dear.
But for those with much family pique,
A gift is not what they'd seek.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2010

Visit Sunday 160 for more poetry and prose.

Red Berries in Snow

2010-12-18T11:34:00.002-05:00

Red Berries

I have left the red berries in
Snow in the backyard.
No wreath will I make of them
While they liven my dry garden.

Triumphant

2010-12-18T07:53:00.022-05:00

Triumph

Fierce, weak,
Ennobling, humbling,
A fleeting joy sometimes
Prevailing

Whose triumph is now for me
Can soon become yours to see.
In the vagaries of life
For quick victory there is constant strife.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2010

For Writer's Island

Stained Glass

2010-12-17T07:26:00.008-05:00

For more Magpie Tales, click here

Stained Glass

A stained glass window
Reminds of queenly glory
And a season of gifts
Brought and those received.
Magi have visited
With incense sweet,
And frankincense and myrrh
For a time of bitterness to come.
But it is a season of thankfulness
Today..

Poems of Liu Xiaobo, Nobel Peace Prize winner

2010-12-13T14:34:00.004-05:00

Someone sent me Poems by Liu Xiaobo, printed in International Pen,
translated by Jeffery Yang, 2009.
Click on the title to read the poems on the website.

Microfiction Monday: Sunday Chore

2010-12-13T12:44:00.003-05:00

Welcome to Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 characters, or even fewer.

Instead of going to church
Dressed in bonnet and hose,
She washed her new clothes
While the sun was high,
And flagged them out to dry.

- Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2010

Wondrous

2010-12-12T12:16:00.012-05:00

Wondrous

A rude crudeness
Abounds where blood
Has been frozen in
By narrow places
And fingernail circumstances.
Or so I've been told

Carried through time into
Veins and dispositions,
Deposited like ore,
It's valueless to some,
But coats of arms to others,
To deploy, to flaunt.

Amazing to watch,
Devastating to see.
You turn away and reel
From a minefield of
Formless dark green.

Against this, the natural world
Of evergreen live and vibrant,
Programmed to renew and grow into
Ever widening spaces.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2010

See more contributions at Poetry Potluck, Writer's Island, Monday Poetry Train.

Saturday Centus: Shoes

2010-12-11T15:28:00.012-05:00

This week the prompt for Saturday Centus is:

"An involuntary gasp of shock escaped my lips
When I opened the shoebox and saw
The pointy-toed shoes..."

Stolen Shoes

Who would have thought she'd buy them
Expensive and flashy as they were.

They had made such a stir of disbelief
That Melody would wear to no one's relief,
Footwear stolen from the house

Where Mitchell lived.
I threw them back into the box,
Flew them over to present

An unwanted gift back to Mitchell's house.
And anger aroused, the shoes outbound,
Melody's gift had short shrift.

Friday 55: Primal Therapy

2010-12-10T13:25:00.002-05:00

Click on Friday Flash 55 and Writer's Island, and One Single Impression for more contributions.

Primal Therapy (for freedom)

Primal screaming at the top of your lungs.
It works sometimes with the door closed,
Music blaring and no one to listen but yourself.
Yin and yang convoluted, inverted,
Misshaped space.
Throw rage into the empty air.
The universe will not
Throw it back into your face.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2010

New Snow

2010-12-09T09:24:00.006-05:00

Magpie Tales has this for picture prompt:

New Snow

We were young
And I was even younger,
First time sledding on newfound snow.

Snowed in, not really,
Not for us staying indoors
On this snow day to end all such.

Did we really climb over a farmer's fence
And ease down his hill
With cries of delight in all the whiteness?

How sorry he was to tell us
We were really adults
And should not have done so.

Sheepishly, we grinned,
No better than our students, we knew,
Who would sit obediently before us next morning.

But we had taken a snow day off,
And scrambled like children
Down this expanse of white delight.

The farmer too
Was glad to show, to us,
He knew a thing or two.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words, 2010

One Stop Poetry: Stop There

2010-12-07T21:24:00.009-05:00

Click here for more One Shot Wednesday poems for this week.

Stop There

Your insecurities are unfathomable
Winding like tight spider webs
Around those you wish to entangle
And render hapless.

Time to let it go
And move on, unwinding
From tangled schemes,
Probing fingers reaching out
In greedy grasping.

Scream paralysis away
In a space drowning with sound.
Unfettered words wring out anguish,
Only to settle again, slowly,
On the softening smile of a stranger.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words

Enough Already

2010-12-04T09:48:00.007-05:00

Big Tent Poetry prompt this week is "enough."
Jingle's Poetry Potluck has dreams for its theme.

ENOUGH

Enough already, said the girl in slumber,
As dreams weave through her unconscious
Of Christmases past and faces
Brought back by sleeping memory.

She thinks of puddings, plums, cheery smiles,
And wish them back again for a while
To liven the holiday and add their number
To the suddeness of winter's weather.

Enough already, this will be fun
As time will run on its merry course
Gilding gold the holidays with sweet abandon
And happy smiles. Enough already.

© Gerry Young at Strummed Words

Knocking

2010-12-02T09:53:00.012-05:00

The Silent Knock

Who's that knocking on my door*

Giving a premonition of forevermore?

The patter of feet I do not discern

Nor a face whose contours I have learnt

Through my years of seeking faces.

No footprints in the snow nor shadow to show,

Under the lamplight dim.

A door of glass gives you pass, if you will,

To try with all your might and giving

To enter in among us here, the living.

* Thanks to all the poets, song writers and musicians, and film artists who have used this first line before.

Visit Magpie Tales for more prose and poetry using the picture prompt.

Visit Thursday Think Tank for more poetry.

Microfiction Monday: Raven Tresses

2010-11-29T08:36:00.003-05:00

Microfiction Monday asks you to write a story in 140 characters or fewer, using the picture prompt provided each week. Thanks to Stony River.

A herd of oxen
Or a woman fair,
With long raven tresses
To tempt a man's care?
The lady wields her charm.
The king proffers his arm.

One Single Impression: Chance

2010-11-23T10:00:00.008-05:00

For Jingle Poetry, One Single Impression, One Shot Wednesday.

Chance

Teacher and apprentice,
I urge on the work of mind
That turns on fanciful chance,
Kneading thought into art.

- © Gerry Young of Strummed Words, 2010

Haiku: Estranger

2010-11-21T16:07:00.012-05:00

Haiku Heights offers a prompt each Sunday. The prompt this week is stranger.

Estranger

Blank internal eye,
Fierceness aimed outward at will.
Scorching in its gaze.

- © Gerry Young of Strummed Words, 2010

Magpie Tales: The Eleventh Hour

2010-11-17T20:14:00.014-05:00

The Eleventh Hour

This time before midnight
I swish my skirts under the light
Of a full moon, pale through
A milky sky full of stars.

My carriage sits, pumpkin bright,
Attended by grey-clad men
Intent on carrying me off
Without a hint of sound.

But now, a prince awaits,
A silver sandal in his palm,
A spark of the unknowable in his eyes,
Before the midnight hour.

- Gerry Young of Strummed Words.

Click here for more Magpie Tales and Theme Thursday

Silences Unspoken

2010-11-14T00:24:00.010-05:00

Silences, sometimes awkward,
Words unspoken, heard,
Understood or not.
A nuance now
In the flow of a voice
Or in its pausing.
Thought-sharing's demon.

- Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2010

Haiku: Morning

2010-11-13T11:44:00.028-05:00

Haiku Heights offers a prompt each Sunday for a poem. Link your haiku to their site. The prompt this week is silk.

Morning

Coffee smooth as silk,
A glide of silk on shoulders,
Promises to keep.

Sheer morning mist,
A pearl of white over dawn,
Portents of the day.

- Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2010

The Early November Sunshine..

2010-11-13T08:55:00.006-05:00

The early November sunshine cast golden rays
Sifting behind this heavy curtain.

Yellow light filters through in warm splendor
And the hint of sun melts on my skin.

A day at a time, one will come
When the door opens and winter white appears.

- Gerry Young, Strummed Words, 2010

Magpie Tales: The Monkey King

2010-11-11T12:53:00.010-05:00

The Monkey King

Monkey King never dreamed

He would one day be

Nestled in silks and black pearls

Admired by women

In a foreign land.

His travels had taken him far,

He had searched for the Buddha

Among tall mountains

And in clouds high in the skies.

Little did he know he would be cast in gold

To adorn the breast of a lady,

His stories legends and myths,

Forgotten in time.

--Strummed Words, 2010

Note from Wikipedia:
"Sun Wukong, also known as the Monkey King, is a main character in the classical Chinese epic novel Journey to the West (西遊記). In the novel, he accompanies the monk Xuanzang on the journey to retrieve Buddhist sutras from India. There are parallels between the character and Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god of India^[1]"

Click here for more Magpie Tales, hosted by Willow.

Poetry Potluck: Monument

2010-11-09T11:13:00.003-05:00

Poetry Potluck this week by Jingle has the theme, Buildings, Landmarks, and Monuments.

Monument

Bridges, statues, arches,
Monuments to events
In spite of history
That may scar memory.

Live monuments, a tree,
A garden, fish surfacing,
A pond divining,
Blurring harsh reality
- Strummed Words, 2010

Microfiction Monday: The Tease

2010-11-08T19:12:00.003-05:00

Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 words or fewer.

The Tease

Big Brother lost her bear

In these leaves so sere.

He knows it fell.

But she'll be danged

If she asks him to tell

Where.

-Strummed Words, 2010

Awaiting...Adventure

2010-11-05T08:38:00.006-04:00

Awaiting

I wait for the clear,
And for shafts of light
That will not sear
A discerning view.

Rising at dawn,
I hear sounds of the night
Raining in through open windows.
I do not see them.

A filigree of shade
Cast over the view
Lends an improbable answer.
Why wait any longer?

- Strummed Words, 2010

Writer's Island, Thursday Poets Rally, Poetry Pantry, Monday Poetry Train

Big Tent Poetry: Silver Rain

2010-11-05T06:15:00.014-04:00

Big Tent Poetry asks us to use a line from another poet's work as a prompt for this week's verse. I'm using Sherri's "taste of sun silver rain."

Silver Rain, a Love Song

The taste of sun silver rain
Lingers on my lips, my face,
As it lifts up to yours.

Kisses like wine with raindrops,
Songs that linger in my ear.
Your lips impress the honey
Of your soul on mine.

- Strummed Words, 2010.

Magpie Tales: Chicken Pot Pie

2010-11-04T06:46:00.014-04:00

Chicken Pot Pie

- Strummed Words, 2010

See me as I strut and fret,

Yet for the pot you will not get

An ounce of me.

I crow to the waning moon

That ends your night

And greet the morn

That slants its light

Through your open window.

I am part of your day, your night,

I am here by right.

No chicken

Pot

Pie am I.

More Magpie Tales: http://magpietales.blogspot.com/

P is for Private Perception

2010-11-03T11:37:00.007-04:00

One Shot Wednesday
ABC Wednesday: P is for...

P is for...

P is for personal, private,
Privy to promptings,
Posthumous perceptions,
Pastiches of poetry.

P is for pea green
On a pampered baby,
Pausing with smiles, purrs and
Peaceful satisfaction.

P is for perceptions plump as persimmons,
Ripe with pervasive
Perfumes, punctuated
By picture points, perhaps...

- Strummed Words, 2010

Mystic Words

2010-11-02T14:59:00.005-04:00

Mystic words rise up
From a swamp of the unknown.
It bowls me over.

Like steamy tendrils,
Fingers of thought flow upward.
Unpredictable.

Mist of moon appears,
Lighting up the blue waters.
Reveals something new.

Haiku Heights' prompt this week is "Mystic."
One Shot Wednesday

Microfiction Monday: Halloween Girl

2010-11-01T07:06:00.001-04:00

No black cat crossed my path.

I wouldn't risk the witches' wrath.

I picked her up on the street,

Walking on little cat's feet.

Mirofiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 words or fewer.

Sunday 160: The Halloween Grinch

2010-10-31T07:24:00.001-04:00

Sunday 160 requires 160 characters with spaces.

Halloween Grinch

No more ghouls, goblins
To knock at the door.
No more teens
To put out a hand
Or two, for candy
Stolen from small creatures
Who watch in expectant hope.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Writer's Island: Masque

2010-10-30T17:34:00.021-04:00

Writer's Island has a visual Halloween prompt for this week - "Masquerade," image by Marilena Mexi

Masque

I masquerade inside myself,
Pretending to be what I may not
Really pretend.
Noncommittal, silent, watchful,
Wary, a Mona Lisa smile.
I wonder about your masquerade,
As I wait for you
To lower your mask.

I fear what you will show,
A mirror of my own face,
Or another mask underneath
Of unshakeable will,
A calculating silent scrutiny.

But never mind. Shall we dance?

- Strummed Words, 2010

The Last Buds

2010-10-29T10:43:00.011-04:00

Brought in the last buds of summer today,
Pink and yellow, red and mauve,
Saving the rosebuds for another day
From the cool winds moving in,
Inexorably.

The flowers graced their bushes all summer long,
I never cut them down,
Believing they like better their own branches
Than the warm enclosing space of
Interiors.

They grace the mantleplace
Where my mother's picture stood.
She has moved to face pale yellow curtains,
Pink blooms, green tendrils,
Which the sun illuminates.

All being in a better place,
The last buds may come indoors.
And I am ready to weather winter.

- Strummed Words, 2010

ABC Wednesday: Doggerel

2010-10-27T11:52:00.005-04:00

ABC Wednesday Round Seven offers the letter "O" as a writing prompt for this week. Created by Denise of the U.K. Also written for One Shot Wednesday.

Opportunity KnOcks

Had the opportunity to see better,
Thought going to the doc was a go getter.
Turned out there were too many hitches
Having to do with too many -itches.

Now what would you say to this,
If you want to see the words and not miss,
Take the op but not the operation,
It may turn out a botheration
You can afford to resist.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Microfiction Monday: The Picnic

2010-10-25T13:08:00.006-04:00

                                We were runaways and hungry
                                But they were not very friendly.
                                They went down to the beach.
                                We took picnic food each
                                And we ran.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Susan at Stony River Farm provides the picture prompt weekly and is host for Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 characters or fewer.

Sunday 160: Early Autumn Days

2010-10-24T08:42:00.003-04:00

Early Autumn Days

In the early autumn
Of years and season,
I enjoy the most
The new things I find,
Like hope, other people's stories,
And my own new found love of
Poetry.

- Strummed Words, 2010.

Sunday 160 and Poetry Pantry and Monday Poetry Train

Haiku: Optimistic

2010-10-24T08:18:00.007-04:00

Haiku Heights offers a prompt each Sunday for a poem. Link your haiku to their site. The prompt this week is optimistic.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Optimistic

Yellow buds they flaunt
Creamy buttery colors
In spite of autumn.

Writer's Island Poetry: Emerge

2010-10-23T11:01:00.007-04:00

Writer's Island gives the following prompt this Saturday for poetry or prose to link to their page: Emerge
Here's my contribution:

EMERGING

Crawling slowly from its shell,
A snail.

Stalked eyes fixed upward in sand,
A blue crab.

Head moving forward into the sun,
A sea turtle.

A sea shell opening in the waves,
A goddess.

Verse emerging from thoughts set free,
A new poet.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Night is Day

2010-10-20T10:17:00.006-04:00

Night is Day

A shadow flits by on the white wall.
It comes again and again
Flying swift, casting a dark spot
On the glaring white in the sun.

A sparrow or a swift, more than one
Haunt my windows in the day,
Making a small shadow of night
That crosses over again and again,

One at a time, or one behind the other,
They remind me I'm not alone.
My nights are days with memory,
My days do move with night.

- copyright Strummed Words, 2010

Submitted for:
ABC Wednesday.
We Write Poems

One Shot Wednesday: Insomniac's Nightmare

2010-10-20T09:43:00.007-04:00

Post a poem on your blog and link to One Shot Wednesday Poetry.

Insomniac's Nightmare

Keep regular bedtime hours
And wake the same time every day,
And weekends too.

No napping,
No sleep unless drowsy.
No coffee, cigarettes,
Strenuous exercise,
No alcohol
Four hours before sleep.

Is this an insomniac's dream
or an insomniac's nightmare?
To lose my life both day and
Night!

Should I care?

- Strummed Words, 2010

Microfiction Monday: A Woman's Lot

2010-10-18T17:44:00.003-04:00

Susan at Stony River Farm provides the picture prompt weekly and is host for Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 characters or fewer.

A Woman's Lot

"The jar of oil and food is there," says the king. She looks. "You'll be released when you've learnt to cook to please a king."

The Sunday 160: Sunday Muse

2010-10-17T09:30:00.000-04:00

A Muse of Sunday

A muse of Sunday
Whispered in my ear.
Why longer wait?
Winter is so near.

Sharp reminders
That linger still,
Write down on paper
However you will.

Sunday 160 is hosted by Monkey Man. Write 160 characters, including spaces, and link your post to his weekly Sunday 160.

One Shoot Sunday: Summer Days

2010-10-17T08:38:00.009-04:00

Summer Days

I never tired
Of summer Sundays walking
Through grass, bush, forests
Leading to rushing water.

A tropical place
Where leaves grew, fell all year round,
I loved those trees best
Where we could eat and rest.

We prayed on Sundays
That rain would hold its strong force,
Hold its strength so we could wander
Far free, and home to thunder.

         Summer came and stayed,
         Kept a place for days
         Of Sundays to remember.


                                                    - Harvee Lau, Book Bird Dog

One Shoot Sunday asks for poetry or prose inspired by the weekly photo prompt. This week's photo is by Claudia.

Haiku: Serenity

2010-10-16T16:30:00.011-04:00

Haiku Heights: the theme/prompt for Week 13 is Serenity.

Remembrance

Sun, rain, and blue stars,
Faces and voices recall
Sweet serenity.

Writer's Island: Unleash

2010-10-16T10:24:00.006-04:00

Writer's Island prompt for this week is Unleashed.

Unleashed a spirit,
A torrent of words and song
Imaginary.

Words unseen but felt,
Surmised, guessed, an
Unusual taste for letting go

Of unchained ghosts
And miraculous visits
Unleashed.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Haiku Heights 12: Autumn Blemish

2010-10-16T09:21:00.004-04:00

Haiku Heights: Week 12's theme/prompt is Blemish.

Autumn Blemish

A wide swath of green
Haunts the yellow and brown gold
Of trees in slumber

Magpie Tales: Latent Butterfly, A Miner's Dream

2010-10-13T15:57:00.006-04:00

Latent Butterfly or A Miner's Dream

A door opens where
No space was before, or
None that I recall.

Am I dreaming now,
Or can I really see trees
beckoning, to me?

Flap, flap, zip, zip, zip.
I dreamed I flew through that door,
My wings finally unclipped.

- Strummed Words, 2010

Magpie Tales is hosted weekly by Willow, where a photo prompt encourages writers to submit poetry or prose.

Manque/Missing

2010-10-12T20:57:00.003-04:00

In the spirit of One Shot Wednesday Poetry, I am submitting a poem for two Wednesday prompts, in one shot. Hope you don't mind! My muse as you see is Missing on this Wednesday.

ABC Wednesday Round 7 also invites you to post and link to the post to share with others. The theme this week: M is for....

Manque/Missing

A piece of verse is missing,
manque.

I chase it in my mind,
Follow it down winding paths
of fancy and dream-like states.

I hold it in the palms of my hands.
Then it flutters like a bird in flight,
Like a wisp of cloud

It evaporates into the thin blue of sky,
melts with the narrow white clouds.

A vapor. It eludes me still.

- Strummed Words, 2010.

Poetry: Teenage Angst

2010-10-12T11:37:00.008-04:00

I am also contributing this to Jingle's Poetry Potluck, for the prompt, the Seven Deadly Sins.

The 100 Word Challenge is a writing prompt hosted by Velvet Verbosity. It uses a single theme to tell a story in only 100 words ~ no more, no less. The last challenge word that was given, the end of September, was Ditch.

Teenage Angst: After the Party

I was ditched at the party,
I was ditched from birth.
I sit with my chin in my hands
Wondering about the dearth
Of family, friends, companions

Who should accompany me
In whatever places
Or situation I happened to be, on land
Sea, air, or you name it.

Stranded, alone, and cold,
My head in my arms, my butt on
Cold concrete, and my feet
Hurting. My thoughts whirling
About my need, a set of wheels.

It's almost two o'clock.
My phone's not working.
No one and nothing's on my side.
My stomach is churning.
Wait... is that my ride?

Microfiction Monday: Training Blues

2010-10-10T20:19:00.005-04:00

Susan at Stony River Farm provides the picture prompt weekly and is host for Microfiction Monday, where a picture paints 140 characters or fewer.

This train hurtled me unwilling to boarding school in the big city each week. I sulked mightily weekdays, then smiled on weekends at home.