Earth Day – Your Weekly Poetry Prompt 4/22/2022

Our prompt this week is Earth Day.
Today is the 52nd annual Earth Day. There is so much to say about this sphere hurdling through space that we call home, it is bound to inspire a good poem or two. As always, write what comes to mind: environmental, existential, or just earthy.

As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.

Photo by Valentin Antonucci on Pexels.com

You Can Rely on Faith – My Weekly Poem 4/18/2022

Though captains come and go,
the ships can still sail on.
Though ships have found the bottom,
the destinations are not gone.

We cling to how things are,
we like habits and routine.
We indulge when times are fat
and complain when times are lean.

Life remains perpetual,
but offers no guarantees,
to any individual
no matter what they need.

We are left to choose our faith,
our source of course correction,
when we meet with the impassible
that forces new direction.

I have faith I’m not alone,
I am worthy and I’m a lover.
I have faith I’m not in charge,
but I own how I treat others.

Though possessions come and go,
companionship lives on.
Though loved ones pass away,
our connections are not gone.


Photo by Frank Cone on Pexels.com

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Lines to Get Started.

Lines to Get Started – Your Weekly Poetry Prompt 4/15/2022

Our prompt this week are some Lines to Get Started.
I found these unfinished lines in a notebook of mine and thought it would be fun to see what they prompt from others. Use these lines directly in your poem or write whatever comes to mind after reading them:

Though captains come and go,
the ships can still sail on.
Though ships have found the bottom,
the destinations are not gone.

As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.

Sailboat
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Coffee Mug – My Weekly Poem 4/11/2022

I’m alone in my office
on the second floor of the house
that my wife and I bought together.

The first fragrant sip of coffee
comes from a souvenir mug
that I bought where they filmed a TV show.

Purchased in Roslyn, Washington,
the mug declares it’s from Cicely, Alaska.
Thanks to mom, I’m a big fan of Northern Exposure.

I was young and it was not a young person’s show,
but mom’s enthusiasm drew me in
and a book smart convict and solid soundtrack held me.

It was before streaming, TV shows were a scheduled event,
social planning was done with an open TV guide,
and Northern Exposure brought mom and I together, faithfully, each week.

Now, I am more of a reader than a watcher,
but my connection to that show, the one on my mug,
feels like a family I laughed with and spent time with.

I cried when I knew I wouldn’t see them again.


Photo by Brian Vos

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Objects Have Memories.

Objects Have Memories – Your Weekly Poetry Prompt 4/8/2022

Our prompt this week is Objects Have Memories.

Each thing around us holds a memory or two: where it came from, why it’s here, why it’s needed, the hands it has passed through. Write a poem that starts with an object (maybe one close at hand) and leads through the memories it holds.

As always, please share your poem in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.

Photo by MoldyVintage Photo on Pexels.com

Bonus – A Short Story About a Nearby Truck Stop

Even on the other side of the tracks, my town is asleep at 4am. Down the highway, at an all-night truck stop, the early risers can sip self-serve coffee while they wait for the kitchen to open for breakfast. I walk in looking for a seat with a view of the place and thank the two regulars that point me in the direction of the coffee. One smiles and says, “Don’t thank me, thank God you got it.”

Most of the people I see, come here all the time. You can tell by how they choose their seat and nod at the waitress while she gets things ready. One gentleman, wearing a ball cap and heavy coat, sits down in a dark part of the café not yet lit up for business. I can tell that’s his booth.

This place is the cleanest example of the past you can find for miles. There is a distinct way time ticks by, and it’s hard not to feel like part of a well-worn routine. The waitress must have missed a step while brewing a fresh pot of coffee and steaming brown liquid begins to run onto the counter. She heads toward it with a rag muttering that two days off has completely spoiled her rhythm. Two old men at the end of the counter each get half a toasted bagel and a cup of cream cheese from the waitress. They’ve learned what she can prepare for them before the griddles are ready. It’s not time to order hot food yet but a few more patrons have found their way to booths and stools. There are a couple of loaners like me, but most are greeting people they knew would be here.

The routine ticks forward and the waitress begins gathering food orders, most never look at a menu before placing their requests. This routine is measured in familiar people in a familiar place with pictures of 4H winners on the wall and an immaculate dinning counter over a line of stools. Through the window, I see cars drive by at high speed, back at the counter, smiles are exchanged before leaving to join the rush.

(This is nonfiction, one day I drove to the nearest truck stop at 4am to see what I could see. Later, I wrote it down. Later still, I decided to share it with you.)

Photo by Brian Vos

I Dwell on Little Losses – My Weekly Poem 4/4/2022

To pedal and ride
over rocks and steep ridges
is a challenging sport
that’s just you, bike, and dirt.

Gravel and hills
put up resistance
that then gives way
to gliding and vistas.

To fall in the midst
of good honest effort
is more a lesson
than a type of defeat.

But fear can stop you
before a challenge is tried
and momentum lost
means a shameful walk.

So I keep recounting,
the feet pushed and carried
not miles I conquered,
or smiles from flowing descents.

The losses are sticky
and dwell more in my mind
than the win of experience
or the blessing of getting to ride.

It becomes a dark spot,
this sticky part of my brain,
that builds anxious futures
of walking my own defeat.

Can I remember little lessons
while ego forgets losses?
Can experience shine
while gratitude sticks?

I do remember this,
it’s all just for fun
and though it gets sticky,
it brings me great joy.


Photo by Brian Vos

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Where the Mind Dwells. I’m not convinced the form met the message well with this one, but I wanted to share it none the less.

Where the Mind Dwells – Your Weekly Poetry Prompt 4/1/2022

Our prompt this week is Where the Mind Dwells. Do you often cycle through the same thoughts? Maybe there’s a certain spin you put on every story that becomes your memory. I think we all do this. Think about what came to mind as you read this and write the poem that it inspires.

As always, please share your poem in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Mourning What is Lost – My Weekly Poem 3/28/2022

I mourn the loss of those who pass
as the things that will not be.
Like the best man I would not have
when my best friend was lost to me.

But sickness brings a constant loss
while the sick still live and breath
and as dad declines, I face the fact
that days are gifts not guaranteed.

There was a time, early on,
when treatments tried to gain
a thing or two he still could do
but now, just push out pain.

Who decides how long to cling
to life without much living?
Can treatments pause long enough
for the love we could be giving?

It’s not a choice we choose to face,
it’s things we just push through.
Each tiny loss can be put away
when the sum is not put on you.

When I’m away, I get to say,
that my dad is still hanging on,
but as life still clings, he’s remembering
a lift that’s already gone.


Photo by Patrick De Boeck on Pexels.com

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Two Sides of Loss.

Two Sides of Loss – Your Weekly Poetry Prompt 3/25/2022

Our prompt this week is Two Sides of Loss. With every loss, there is an opportunity to write about the effect on those that lost a thing or the effect on the thing lost, or both. Some losses mean there was a winner, and some losses are just things removed from our lives. Write about a loss and then see where your poem takes you, does it pick a side?

As always, please share your poem in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com