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Last Pot Luck (144 word story)

March 19, 2025April 6, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry9 Comments

Bjorn at dVerse Poets has a prose challenge this week to write prose of 144 words including the line ‘There’s a lullaby for suffering‘ from Leonard Cohen’s tune “You Want It Darker”.

Last Pot Luck

Maggie brought a faux beef stew, she had an extra provision card she’d nicked, Selina brought chicken though she was saddened by it, Constance brought her last small vegetables thinking why not, Angie brought a State song with altered lyrics as There’s a need’s new lullaby for suffering, Maribel brought small sweet lip smacking things baked in her basement’s hidden basement that were presented on trays like old days, ones with views of the sea or dreamt flowers, Caroline brought pictures from slots in window sills in plain sight, her William was held somewhere because of them but he always said “un-hide them when you can”, the rest of the girls brought what they could for the Pot Luck, maybe the last one.

Oh, and Tracy brought guns.

There was a knock, no, a pound at the door.

Everyone was glad Tracy was there.

Bloody Paradise & Death Becomes Us (call and response – poems)

March 7, 2025March 8, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry6 Comments

Have this friend that I met through dVerse Poets, Paul (and a thank you to dVerse for such) an absolutely wondrous writer/poet whose work just astounds me and he recently wrote this at his site, Parallax

Bloody Paradise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: I wrote this in response to GP at Pacific Paratrooper following our respective comments on his post “Letter IX “A Day’s Venture” which is a post about his father Pvt. Everett “Smitty” Smith’s letter to his mother in regard to a rest day spent around Buna after allied forces liberated it. The post was in September 2024 (linked above).

Pacific Paratrooper is a blog based around the life and service of Smitty with the Headquarters Company/187th Regiment/11 Airborne during WWII. Follow the links above to read GPs excellent work.

“The war continues working, day and night.” Dunyah Mikhail

Bloody Paradise

Some things catch us by surprise
like the irony of a sabbath amidst
the trail of death and destruction
in an ever moving theatre of war,
feelings about shame and waste
momentarily cleared by
observations of the ordinary and
mundane albeit cultural experiences
allied with peace and quiet
buddies swimming in
pristine bejewelled water
shaded by coconut trees majestic,
a veritable paradise
framed by a cemetery screaming
“death becomes us,”
as Buna now breathes
Buna becomes today
tomorrow …
if not this war,
then the next.

/////

Well, this poem and the line “Death becomes us” struck me and I thought to take a bit of a liberty and write a “response”.

/////

Death Becomes Us

Death becomes us

said General to a friend

in kinder times

when this was just pieces

on a board

a game

over seas distance

closer now

or skies resistance

closer now

and simple regrets

closer now

like a kiss not had

from that pretty girl

at that pretty café

on that pretty shore of a foreign land

to be felt another day

but friend General had dispatched

in quick fashion in need

as only needs need

according to ordered needs

I have medals he said

Death becomes us

said the dispatched

wishing General hadn’t said that

I had other friends

really

he thought

who didn’t take this so seriously

and danced to tune

in kinder times

it was just a game

Death becomes us

said Devil and Lord

puffed chests

In accord

you have done our warned

work

all on your own

you wanted, you played

you moved pieces on a board

you played Devil and Lord

toward

an unquestioned end

Death becomes us

always becomes us

in dirt too soon

General

too soon

Tell her I think of her

her little pretty

or just pretty

in general

General

at that pretty little café

on that pretty foreign shore

wished

pretty

once

/////

Hope I did a justice in this uncalled call & response Paul

Elements (poem)

February 25, 2025March 8, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry7 Comments

I couldn’t

as Master tasked

decide on earth or fire, water or air

which was I

his ask

for our studies

surely test

of his best

pupil I thought

he said

once

I said …

Earth is of dirt where life begins in leaves to breathe, breads to eat

where to build upon

place our heads until

lay down with centuries and crawl underneath

To begin again

Fire lights our way plucked from the sky before end

day’s fade to preserve till return

warms us

But also destroys only to apologize in violent cleanse

feeding earth in its regret

Water quenches us, is most of us, fills us to the burst of tear

rinses sins when it falls

along

with us

but drowns when wayward we

and recedes in earth after the washing away

Air fills our chests from its sky

lifts wings so we know beauty, hear songs in beautiful sings

carried to dream

but angers sudden and scatters earth to far places

then feeds anew wherever earth it lands

I am afraid I may

disappoint

this day

Master

but I cannot decide

as I would surely choose

either

which presented first

for choice of lesson

from your best pupil

as you’ve said

once

I hope

until the next takes it’s place

in choice

none the lesser

all the mighty for the thought

but I think I is earth

as all seem return

there

I turned to master only to see he had gone to ground

started to sprout

and it began to rain

as wind fed his leaf to rise

a flame lit my way

in lack of light

and warmed me

until it dawned

on me

dawned new day

//////////////////////////////////////////

Prompt:

THE FOUR ELEMENTS at dVerse Poets from Kim of Writing in North Norfolk

The ancient Greeks believed that the Universe is made up of four elements: earth, air, fire, and water.

Your challenge is to choose one of the basic four elements and explore it.

The Crow & The Winter Witch (poem)

January 29, 2025April 1, 2026by Stephen J Frankenberry14 Comments

So at dVerse Poets this week Kim had an eye check-up for a new prescription and part of the check-up was to read from laminated test cards of different size fonts in sentences and below each of the sentences were sets of four words. She thought these sets of four words would make a cool poetics prompt.

And, thus, said prompt from Kim? To choose one or two sets of words and write a poem using them in the order in which they appear. There was a bit more possible to the prompt but I was good … thanks Kim.

Here are the sets of words:

(I chose the sets in bold)

nose – one – cause – even
were – crone – our – summer
name – use – means – arose
near – can – remove – sure
crow – verse – see – renew
assume – once- van – sum
aware – caves – sea – cream

The Crow & The Winter Witch

The crow walks as if his smart, stone counting, building stick were cigar

like Groucho

or cane for crone who invites him for company’s perch and old silly movies

in cold months

and caws crow joke verse for friends to hear

and see

in funny slide skip dance steps

on out warm window sills

that make old lonely

fairy tale’d spoke

bent magic’d women

laugh

and friends cackle

in wing’d giggle gaggle

flitting

fits away

while he lingers her equally bent house

in the winter wood

“our bent house”

he thinks

to while away until

Spring

then Summer

renew

her time to wait on lost children

in the wood

for new Grimm tales be writ

To Cliche Or Not To Cliche, That Is … The Cliche? (poem)

January 26, 2025January 31, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments

So there was a prompt from Bjorn at dVerse Poets earlier this week and it was this, Meet the bar positively through negation (though I did miss the window of submission to this one … I am often late to the party on a lot of these but still a prompt).

Now, I’m sure, I didn’t really meet the ask of this one and the “negation” thought, or maybe I did (that’s probably a part of everything I write without even thinking about it) but it did talk of cliche and maybe using negation to try and sidestep and I just got stuck.

Cliché Or Not To Cliché, That Is … The Cliche?

Is it cliché to talk of cliché as if it weren’t cliché

instead

original, unique, one minded

new

descriptions freshly took

of former looks

inscriptions on old stone tablets I mined myself

or did I

with new hooks as if in song

surely no tuneful influence except …

and chipped into fashion with old used worn stone tools

fashioned a way

of white picket fences and lights of my life

to paths less traveled away

from fools

you think

from cliché

Is it cliché to try not be cliché?

Maybe This Christmas (poem)

December 11, 2024January 11, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry12 Comments

A prompt from Dora at dVerse Poets to write a poem, with a holiday tint, using “Despite” and “Still” and so many well worked and wondrous examples of Dora’s inspiration and intent.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Maybe this Christmas

Maybe this Christmas will find

what was left behind

(in one small sock lost back under tree in a crack in the floor

found

maybe by new)

the glee of lights I knew could be seen

above all

on high

as there were none in the whole wide world of our street

that could meet

expectations or faces of Christmas like we

Maybe

just maybe

newer new will find what was left behind

(remodel make old undone amid dust and splinters and curses

of hammered thumbs

that one

now graying sock

fallen through crack)

a gift from Mom’s and Dad’s of memories back

that held promise

of lights they knew could be seen

in child’s dreams

at Christmas

above all

despite

whole wide world’s changed street

through thick dark clouds

now

expectations tougher reach

Maybe

season’s redemptive thought

maybe

newest new will find that once lost behind

(after tear down that faded sock of gifted wonder in rubble

of rebuild

could

maybe

be found

still

full of sparkling memories dusted, cleaned, fancy new)

finally

with chocolates and giggles and little games with hue

of wonder

after so many years

to maybe

just maybe

gift to the latest new

of expectations

anew

seen above all others in this whole wide world’s now angry street

maybe

just maybe this Christmas

These Bangs (poem)

December 10, 2024December 10, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry7 Comments

A new Quadrille poem prompt at dVerse Poets to begin the week.

A 44 word dVerse poem that, this time around, asks to include the word “Bang”.

/////

These Bangs

Big ones that begat this life

smaller ones

softly floating wispy cloth plush petite over imploring eyes that begat beauty

on mountains I sounded song

from peaks

I louded

bangs

until this

another

faded in bangless valley’s whimper

but lingering echo

these bangs

Christmas Kitten (poem)

December 5, 2024December 10, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry10 Comments

So a prompt for the holidays, an Etheree poem (no, I had no clue either) focusing on Christmas trees and themes of such. The full explanation of an Etheree poem and examples and the rest is in the link to the prompt from dVerse Poets here, An Etheree Tree, but it is …

… write in the form of this Etheree which is 10 non-rhyming lines graduating, per line, from 1 syllable in line 1 to 10 in line 10. The only addition to the form was two extra lines of only 2 syllables each at the end.

Now, not the original intent of the Etheree of course, but if you then center the 10 lines on the page and add the two extra lines for the tree trunk bottom you get the shape of a Christmas tree, which, well, just looks cool

It made me think of a favorite couple of pictures from so many years ago of Cal, the kitten, 2004 or so, in a house I shared with my sister and brother then.

Cal, one of the 5 kittens that were kittened to us by a pregnant cat (my brother named her Mia) who just showed up at our back door one day looking for a place to possibly stay. She had surely seen my Benny in his Benny to and fro’s around neighbor’s yards and flower beds and through his cat door and thought to herself in a wanting way, “these are good cat folk and this is just the place to lay my head” and proud, expectant belly in a toweled cardboard box world with lots of human hovering and eventual kitten squirming. She was also the Mom of my beloved “Shoes”, the Big Orange, who I would eventually write of quite a lot over his 11 too short years.

Well, this was from the first Christmas with Cal and Shoes (after we found homes for the others) and I thought they would be the perfect pictures for this.

Christmas Kitten

kitten

can’t see me

I hide in glow

of lights and baubles

pictures cute found subject

broken heirloom sighs know blame

but can’t hold true meaning account

Christmas purr instinct as a cat will

until climb down to plush skirt and cat nap

warm blinks

cat dreams

Oh … and since I mentioned it, this is one of that cardboard box that came with all the human hovering.

I Alone … and Cricket the Cat (poem)

November 26, 2024December 31, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry11 Comments

New Quadrille prompt, a dVerse poem of just 44 words with a word to include . This time around, in the prompt from Lisa, the word is “with”. And the 44 word count does not include the title by the way.

Well, I thought to one of my cats and my well practiced solitude.

I Alone … and Cricket the Cat

I alone

mostly

with intent

No sympathies fished

Alone

with company

only of a blind/deaf cat for dinner

and unknowing muse

of word’s dessert

Alone

I embrace Cricket’s solitude

as my own

with only laps and words

Needed for us to feel

in tandem

A Dragon’s Lament (poem)

November 22, 2024December 10, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments

Earlier this week was a prompt at dVerse poets of Dragons and some history and to write of such. Now I missed the “window” to include an entry to this prompt but I still thought to get to something about Dragons, thus …

A Dragon’s Lament

I am ‘bout fold up my wings

my lament

of Dragon lore and settling scores

with villagers who I wish fight no more

fly over to tremble their thatch

homes

and thatch fields and thatch clothes and thatch thoughts

they too easy to burn brittle

if so

and turn

into fiery jackals wishing my hide