Found in Grammar

An action is in itself a signal,
a new step.
Reach for the relationship.
Circumstances would then
no more be discussed.
It may be a single change.


Words found here:
The Elements of Style
Strunk & White
III. Elementary of Principles Composition
9. Make the paragraph the unit of composition: one paragraph to each topic.


Found Poetry Review prompt
Grammar On

Fibonacci Inspired Dog Poems

My
dog
has ears
silky soft.
No matter how old
she gets, they will be the smoothest
fur on her body.
I will always
love a dog's
silky
soft
ears.


Pug
has
squish face,
labored breath.
He just wants to play
but can only run in short sprints.
With luck, he will find
a small friend
to play
with
him.

Klepto Friend

Your kleptomania
should be your problem.
Didn't our friendship
enter your cranium
before you ran and
left me here alone
holding the bag?!
Guess not. Friendship done.


Part of the Alpha-Omega Challenge: Kappa

Dose Me (Four Poems, One Title)

A small pinch, the needle pierces my skin.
A wonderful dose flows into my veins.
I appear comatose for a few hours,
but my mind is exploring other worlds.




The doctor finally appears.
The piercing pain in my stomach
is only getting worse, I feel.
Will someone give me a dose
of something soon, morphine maybe?




The doctors here dose me daily.
I appear more affable, but
the piercing parley in my head
is not quitting or quieting.




One small dose with his meal today.
No piercing to give it away.
"Natural causes," they will say.
How much are you willing to pay?



Three Word Wednesday CCLII
Appear, Dose, Pierce

Carlos

The goal was to use the letter C for inspiration (via ABC Wednesday). While listing C words, a migrant's story started to form. I've been reading Sonia Novario's book Enrique's Journey. It details the struggles of a boy from Honduras attempting to reach his mother in North Carolina and what happens after.

I survived Chiapas, the beast.

An unlucky comrade was

cut off from the group.

Border police have corralled him

in confinement with other migrants.

I am crazy to attempt this

journey from central america

crossing Mexico

to the United States.

But, it is the only cure

for missing my mother,

who used to coddle

and cuddle me

when I was cute and small.

I hop on and off moving trains.

Churning wheels threaten to cut off

a foot, a leg, a life.

Men chase me.

I hide in a clump of bushes.

A church!

I burst in and

careen into a corner.

Churches often provide sanctuary.

It's cool in here.

A clergyman appears.

"Breathe easy.

I care for children of the train."

I notice others. 

For dinner, we consume

cucumbers and chimichangas.

I even get a cookie!

We console one other.

We cajole one other.

We cheer up for the safety

of resting in the church.

I cover up for sleep,

and dream of mami.

Thousands of children travel along the tops and sides of freight trains through Mexico. Children as young as seven jump on and off of the moving trains, trying to avoid immigration agents. Some states are generally friendly and the people are helpful to the migrants, like in Veracruz. Chiapas, the southern most state, is notoriously difficult to cross without deportation, and the people despise migrants. These children are typically trying to reach a parent in the US, most often a mother. Single-parent households appear more and more in Central America, and parents who cannot make enough at home leave for the US. They plan to stay 1, 2, or 3 years, but many end up staying for 10 years or more. Children who can barely remember their mother, or have only an idealized version of her, undertake deportation, gangs, rape, physical mutilation, starvation, and dehydration for days and sometimes months hopping trains in order to find mom and love.

Aug 7: Included in Poetry Pantry #61

I'll try anew

After all that I have been through
tomorrow is going to be
another day. I'll try anew.



Carry On Tuesday #116
"After all, tomorrow is another day"
Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh)
Gone With The Wind 1939


Another poem inspired by this same prompt

All that I make now is for me.

When you feel like

they all mock you,

say to yourself

that it's for you.

All of your work

is not for them.

Lost in deep thought,

all creative,

is the real you.

Not what they say.

Lost your mind yet?

No, still making

all my art. It

is part of me,

not made for you.

Lost my way once

at your prodding. 

All that I make now is for me.

Today's poem inspired by OK GO's "All Is Not Lost"

"When they say that all is lost,

all is not lost.

No, all is not lost at all."

Check out the way awesome video with Pilobolus here.
Spread Love


**1 Aug: Featured on The Bar None Group Daily online newspaper Poetry section