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Frodo’s Faith

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Fair (to be fair)
is not in the eyes
but in the heart
where wisdom lies.

To judge by sight
will lead astray.
The spirit knows
the compassed way.

Though it be hard
(oft strewn with pain)
the soul rests firm
when home again.

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It’s Quadrille Monday once again at dVerse and Linda Lee challenges us to write a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title) containing the word “fair.”

My poem today is inspired by Frodo, who tells Sam that despite Strider’s outward appearance, if the Ranger were of the enemy he would look fairer and feel fouler.

Centripetal Force

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Faster!
we yelled.
Faster!
Round and round we went,
throwing our heads back,
laughing at the sky
on a crazy playground whirligig.
Then we’d stagger home
(like drunken sailors)
singing about marching ants
and bottles of beer.

Older
(but no wiser)
now
I tried riding that crazy merry-go-round
last week with my daughters
and lost my lunch.

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November PAD: Day 15

For today’s prompt, write a speed up poem, a poem about anything that plays off the concept of speed.

Imagine That

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Every year
I blink ten million times,
I produce 500 litres of spit,
I shed 24 million dead skin cells
and
my ears grow 0,22mm bigger.
My heart beats 36 million times.
I take 7,5 million breaths
and over 2 million steps.
And
every year
I love you more deeply
than the year before.

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November PAD: Day 14

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “___________ That,” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

What Kind of Luck Is This

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Born blind,
most attributed his infirmity
to parental iniquity.
Some just chalked it up to
bad luck.
All he knew was darkness.

Then that day —
(like a terminal patient
with a bizarre disease
whom the specialist brings interns to see,
talking over him like a lab specimen)
a teacher and his pupils.

He heard the ethics question,
the strange reply,
a person kneeling near him
and . . . . .
spitting!
Lots of spitting.
Not at him
(that had happened before)
but into the dry, dusty earth.

Next
hands were pushing mud
into his eye sockets.
He heard the murmuring crowd.
“What’s he doing?”
He heard the man rise and step back
(like an artist admiring his work).

“Go wash.”

Someone helped him to his feet.
Someone led him to the pool.
And he washed.

Most attributed his healing
to misdiagnosis.
Some just chalked it up to
good luck.
All he know was that he was blind
but now he could see.

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November PAD: Day 13

Today’s prompt is to write a luck poem.

malicious remarks

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words
(bouncing back-and-forth
between rib-framed canyon)
sandpaper my heart
till it’s raw.

crack me open
with grace
so they can escape.

and the Word returns:
forgive.

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November PAD: Day 12

Today’s prompt: write a “raw” poem.

Homecoming

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We welcomed you
with Pooh and Piglet,
shweshwe and white cotton.

As you were more interested in lunch than décor,
I sat on the cool, tiled kitchen floor,
leaned up against the wall,
and fed you.

Rufus came
to check out this strange new creature.
Deciding you were acceptable,
he climbed into my lap,
circled three times,
settled into the well
and began to purr.

I closed my eyes,
put my head back,
took a deep breath
and let it out slowly.
A smile tickled my lips
as my soul whispered:
home!

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November PAD: Day 11

Today’s prompt is to write a memory poem.

Clouds

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It’s only water,

however, I am in awe.

Heavenly grandeur.

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November PAD: Day 10

For today’s prompt, write a nature poem.
(The shortest poems are the most difficult for me — this, a haiku.)

It Goes Without Saying

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No
Love Me/Love Me Nots
in this corner of the universe, folks.
It’s either
here
OR
there.
I’m talking:
all ways
and
always.

No
Ifs or Buts or Maybe-soes.
No
We’ll Get Bys
or
I Don’t Knows.

It’s
We’re All In.
Now or Never.
Love me or don’t
Forever and Ever.

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November PAD: Day 9

It’s time for our second Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month. For today’s prompt:

  • Write a love poem, and/or…
  • Write an anti-love poem.

Change of the Seasons

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Ornery Winter,
flabby arms across his chest,
sulkily sits
atop his termite throne.

Spring politely cajoles.
Perhaps it’s time to move on?

Winter won’t budge.

She bribes him
with sweet-scented blossoms
and gentle caressing breezes.

He’s tempted,
but digs in his heels.

Finally
Summer storms in
with intense heat
and a legion of thunderous clouds.

Buffeted on all sides,
Winter sighs
and heaves his heavy frame
skyward.
Without a farewell
he plods away
like a resigned tortoise
in search of peace.

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November PAD: Day 8


For today’s prompt, take the phrase “________ of the ________,” replace the blanks with a new words, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

Procrastination

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I’ll go to the gym tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll run a mile.
I’ll go to a yoga class
then skip rope for a while.

Tomorrow I’ll swim some laps,
then spin, and spin some more.
I’ll go to Pilates and aerobics
for my cardio and my core.

Tomorrow I’ll hit the treadmill;
I’ll do push-ups, squats and tai chi.
But today I’m taking it easy:
watching movies all day on T.V.

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November PAD: Day 7

Today’s prompt is to write a health poem. (Or non-health. 😉 )

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