Here is lot two of the A Poem a Day Contest; to jog your memories: http://vasundharabahuguna.blogspot.in/2013/04/lifes-poem-654321.html
April 7 2013
A sevenling poem: 7-line poem that features two tercets and a one-liner in the final (third) stanza. The first two stanzas should have an element of three in them that can either play off each directly, work as juxtaposition, or have no connection whatsoever. The final line should work as either a punchline, weird twist, or punctuation mark.
What’s the day today? They echoed in tune,
The Sun, Moon, Stars, Skies, and Earth in one line,
Tis Third of June.
But ‘twas still May, to their dismay,
And some stars in Heaven still in Fray,
A few days more, till they held their Sway,
Yes! It works!! (This is the way.)
April 8 2013
An instructional poem. Your instructional poem could list instructions. Or it could capture an instructional moment.
You Choose
Despair for Hope, Darkness for Light- believe, smile
Bad for Good, Rude for Kind- understand, listen
Unfair for Fair, Sad for Happy- follow, try
Cowardice for Courage, Greed for Contentment- fan, satiate
Lie for Truth, Plight for Might- holdfast, resolve
Flight for Fight, Slight for Right- lead, reason
Live for these, and you will find, there is Life beyond your daily grind
Every day, brings in its fold, a bit of rain, and Sun, and shine
April 9 2013
Today is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. Write one of the following (or both):
· Write a hunter poem.
· Write a hunted poem.
The Hunter and the Hunted
In all of us, though what we say,
Lies a hunter and a waiting prey;
While that seeker surveys, aims and conquers,
The victim fears every step and ponders:
What will prevail, for one so frail,
Always doubting , always pale;
The hunter trounces that thought,
Hunted finding itself in a spot,
Looks inwards and with memories fraught,
Goes in hiding, where it best ought.
April 10 2013
A suffering poem. A person or animal in the poem could be suffering. The poem itself could be suffering.
The Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart
Forced to bear it with silence, their piercing looks,
Unsure why;
So they talked to each other, to find reasons fair,
Always it was, though, on the sly;
“I’ll not wag”, she said to him, “And you try to not feel that pain”.
‘Twas a promise made, a deal sealed,
So the Tongue and Heart, their state concealed.
For years, they trudged on with that show,
Till the Tongue said to him, raising her left brow,
“We have suffered in silence all this while. Let us give up, not worth our while.”
The Tongue was sure, the Heart was scared,
From that moment, they began, they dared,
The Tongue, to lash at people fair, the Heart to seethe, its rhythm flared,
At every passer by, or him, who raised his voice (at them),
They did ensnare.
And thus, with every passing day, they learnt to live in dismay.
They knew their plight, with it could not part,To every other person though, they were the Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart
Unsure why;
So they talked to each other, to find reasons fair,
Always it was, though, on the sly;
“I’ll not wag”, she said to him, “And you try to not feel that pain”.
‘Twas a promise made, a deal sealed,
So the Tongue and Heart, their state concealed.
For years, they trudged on with that show,
Till the Tongue said to him, raising her left brow,
“We have suffered in silence all this while. Let us give up, not worth our while.”
The Tongue was sure, the Heart was scared,
From that moment, they began, they dared,
The Tongue, to lash at people fair, the Heart to seethe, its rhythm flared,
At every passer by, or him, who raised his voice (at them),
They did ensnare.
And thus, with every passing day, they learnt to live in dismay.
They knew their plight, with it could not part,To every other person though, they were the Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart
April 11 2013
In case of Boredom
Ride your bike, or opt for a hike,
Paint a scene, play that game, go fishing.
Paste that stamp, walk the ramp,
Jog to the nook, swim down that brook,
Dance to your tune,
Sing those notes, play that beat,
Hit the garden to prune!
Walk the road, talk to them,
Hobbies from such pastimes stem
April 12 2013
A broke poem. The poem could be about a broken record, broken relationship, or someone who is just flat broke (no money).
The Wrist Watch
The Father asked, “What gift do I bring, from there, to you my child?”
The child, as coy as a child can be, smiles, and knows no joy.
But does not speak, only motions through her head, no toy will do,
Oh Father, choose to come back soon, no gift I want, but you.
The Father smiled, and hugged his child,
He knew her well, that she beguiles.
No words were said, but thoughts exchanged,
And the Father brought back with him, a beautiful wrist watch, silver framed.
She knew no joy, to the door she ran,
The Father saw her, and began,
To unwrap the gift he brought to his child.
Slowly, as each layer opened, with excitement feigned,
She watched spellbound, and yelled in joy,
It was a watch, and not a toy!
It shone on her tiny wrist, the watch,
She wore it through the day;
And through the night, till she went to bed,
So to, the next few days.
Then one morning she ran to bather, with her gift upon her wrist,
Two dips later, she recalled, and her tender heart near split.
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