Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem or short story. How to submit will be very easy. Just post your poem or short story in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem. It is there on another page.
You may need to have a Gmail account to post in the comments section. Most of you do have Gmail, but for those of you that don't it's extremely worthwhile to open up one now! That way you've got a chance to get your work out their in the world.
Today's poem or short story prompt is the word "Bowl"
The World The Way She Wanted
ReplyDeleteMy mother changed the rules for her benefit
Besides she never thought of them as rules anyway
In drawn out arguments
Business or personal
She would end them by saying
"Let's compromise here
Do it my way this time"
Except when you'd realize
YOU never had a next time
When bowling she didn't adhere
To the 10-frame rule
That type of structure
Messed up what could be a perfect game
So while others kept their strikes and spares
Etched with a tiny pencil stub
Onto a small sheet of paper
She bowled on and on
Until she felt her final score
Matched the number in her head
Try to reason with her
She'd just head to the snack bar for a coke
I've tried to emulate her
Queen for a Day
Turned into a lifetime
It takes a panache
An obliviousness
I do not possess
The closest I've ever come
Is to lower a retail price
For a couch or a chair
By ten percent
I hear everyone though
Can get this kind of deal
Just by asking
by Catherine Powers
3-29-13
Copyright 2013
Grapes and Pita Bread and No Boat Under My Feet
ReplyDeleteThe day before Good Friday, I was Peter.
Wikipedia says about Maundy Thursday:
- The Catholic Church uses the term "Holy Thursday" in its official English-language books,
- Lutherans, Methodists, and Reformed use both "Holy Thursday" and "Maundy Thursday",
- Anglicans use "the Thursday before Easter" in some sources.
This was not a good day for Peter.
His best friend
was taken by the police.
All of his other friends
went into hiding.
He told everyone
he'd never studied with
the Rabbi
to whom
he'd sworn his eternal devotion.
My Peter paced
and hung his head
and skulked
and cried
and wished he could go
back to the lake
back out on the water
back to before this all started.
He didn't eat
the grapes
or the pita bread
his brother offered.
In the morning,
while the men were still hiding,
the women would come out of their homes
the women would go to the tomb
the women would learn what happened
and come and tell the men
who were still hiding
Peter would still be hungry.
I wouldn't care.