Early birds get worms I’ve heard said But night owls are more studious Just look at all the books they’ve read While song birds are melodious Once you’ve listened to their call It’s hard to get it out of your craw I stayed up far too late To get up before dawn I guess it’s just my fate That mornings make me yawn But work has deadlines And meetings before nine Written in response to the daily prompt on a day when there just wasn’t any time.

To live well leads to dying well I’ve done all that I wanted to On my mistakes I’ll not dwell To myself I’ve been true I’ll leave my family and friends With memories they’ll cherish I only hope they comprehend What they meant to me when I perish Should I want to do more in my life It should not detract from what I’ve done I’ve had enough of the world’s strife Now it’s time for my redemption   Written in response to challenges from daily prompt and napowrimo.net.

The tide comes in, the tide goes out The moon is full, the stars are bright The wind is blowing past grilled trout I’m sitting enjoying the quiet night Some friends are playing Frisbee there Others are swimming in the sea I enjoy the smell of the salt air The warmth of the burning driftwood tree Listening to strumming guitar music I drift along through daydreams Singing a soft and soothing lyric Everything’s as peaceful as it seems Days like these can be but few Enjoy them all while they’re still new Written in response to the challenges from the daily prompt and napowrimo.net.

Two girls out in a row-boat Trying to get to where the buoy floats All alone out on a great lake Of this deed they wanted to gloat But when the waves started to break They must turn back for their own sake A storm was brewing the sky grew dark There was more than just pride at stake They tried to row back to the park The situation grew quite stark If they made it back alive To their parents they would hark They took turns on the drive Of their lives to survive Tired and sore and near their end To the bay they finally arrived Their family was there a hand to lend So the boat on the rocks would not rend This is where I end my note With two young girls on the mend. This is not the first time I’ve told this tale, but it is the first time in verse.  The poem needs a lot of polishing, but it is flash poetry after all.  I wrote this today as a response to the daily prompt challenge as well as the nanowrimo.net challenge. Fortunately, things turned out better for these two young girls than…

Carrot sticks are fine When I want a quick bite Walnuts are all right And good for the mind But when I want something tasty I reach for the naughty stuff Things I really shouldn’t eat. Chips, pretzels, chocolates, and puffs Pretzels, with a loud crunch Potato chips made just right Comfort foods I want to munch Not too greasy, not too light When I’m down I often reach For chocolates and other sweets I’ve heard it all, don’t you preach Please let me enjoy my treats Written in response to the challenges from the daily prompt and napowrimo.net.

He’s sixteen and very proud He knows just what he wants to do. And he’ll tell you what he thinks In a voice that’s clear and loud. If you have a problem with his crew He’ll stare you down, he won’t blink. If you knew him you would find This only happens in his mind.   A short poem as a combined response to the daily prompt to talk about a sixteen year old, as well as the napowrimo.net challenge to write a tall-tale.

She picked out shoes to match her blouse. He chose a tie to say I win She knows she will rock the house He wore a suit made by an Italian She selected a belt of red leather He wanted to feel like the kingpin She felt like she could break any tether He believed he could rule the world She strode out into the weather He watched as his options unfurled She considered the best path to keep to His riches soon would be lured She chose wisely which stone to leap to He had no fear he’d be poor She would have much to reap too They’ll do it tomorrow once more   Written in response to the daily prompt and a challenge on napowrimo.net.

I asked for a bunch of flowers I ended up with dandelions So much for April showers They always leave me sighin’ I asked for a pretty necklace I got one made of candy At least it went with my dress But at the beach it got sandy I asked for a fancy bracelet He gave me one made of plastic This gift could get wet But I’m allergic to the elastic I asked for a brand new outfit He got one at a thrift shop It was a lacy little knit It had a big hole in the top I asked for a diamond ring He won one from a gumball machine It looks amazingly eye-catching I really like how it gleams This is how our romance went No matter how rich you are It isn’t how much money’s spent It’s the fun you have near and far

There is a guy who is obsessed With all the things he does possess It takes a year or two for him To get it through his system He’ll go out-of-town to find a stone Or have one sent from over seas One friend sends a dinosaur bone Another sends amber coated bees He looks around his shop at tools Some of which he’ll never use His collection is mighty fine He sometimes will opine His poor wife endures the mess And never tries to straighten To her friends she does confess The position that her mates in   In response to the daily prompt “can’t get it out of my head“

I’ve been following napowrimo.net for challenges to my writing ability.  Saturdays challenge was to take a solid object, look it up on Wikipedia or some other dictionary/encyclopedia and replace the name of that object with an intangible idea. For my poem I clicked the random article button till I found a common noun and then again till I found a common idea.  In this case music replaces croissant. Music is a buttery flaky pastry known for its crescent shape. Music has been made since the middle ages and possibly since antiquity. Music can be made with nuts or other fillings. Music can have jam filling This led me to a rough draft of: Music can butter up the jaded lover It can cover up a flaky personality Commonly played under a crescent moon Some music dates back to middle ages And some all the way to antiquity It’s made with nuts and for the fillies Many musicians like to jam And the “final” product looks like: Music butters up the jaded lover Even for one who behaves flaky Frequently played under a crescent moon It stirs the spirit like no other And tells the heart wakey-wakey It helps your sweetheart…