Alas, I spilled anger all over the floor
Scattered droplets singeing the carpet
Sultry sulfur puddles of spiteful spittle
Left lasting, stinking stains
No mop bibulous enough to absorb it all

The prompt for day 27 at is to write a poem that explores your sense of taste. This is more like a 3D rendition I’m afraid 😉

Time quake

What would happen
if nine eleven
happened on nine seven?

This is loosely inspired by today’s prompt and a Kurt Vonnegut book I’m reading, called Time quake. Time gets turned back 10 years, and everybody has to relive the 10 years again, without the possibility to change anything. When the time quake is suddenly over and free will enters the stage again, things are confusing for people.

This poem has a different angle. It’s about when things are different. I’ve always been interested in “What if…” questions about history.

This three line question really makes me wonder, but also makes me sad. So many people lost so many people. It’s a painful question. Feel free to create your own answer.

This was today’s prompt: “Have you ever heard someone wonder what future archaeologists, whether human or from alien civilization, will make of us? Today, I’d like to challenge you to answer that question in poetic form, exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist? The object or site of study could be anything from a “World’s Best Grandpa” coffee mug to a Pizza Hut, from a Pokemon poster to a cellphone.”


savoured by
two laughing friends
happy to be there

wafts wonderfully
heightening their spirits
with explosions of taste

A double elevenie created to remember a fabulous night out with amazing good food, fantastic wines and great company.


itching everywhere
on my body
returning from the hairdresser

falling down
from the washstand
after the mirror shattered

Yesterday’s prompt worried me when I saw it, but I turned out toe be fun. This was the prompt on “Your prompt for Day Twenty-Three comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who challenges us to write a double elevenie. What’s that? Well, an elevenie is an eleven-word poem of five lines, with each line performing a specific task in the poem. The first line is one word, a noun. The second line is two words that explain what the noun in the first line does, the third line explains where the noun is in three words, the fourth line provides further explanation in four words, and the fifth line concludes with one word that sums up the feeling or result of the first line’s noun being what it is and where it is.”

I accidently hit publish instead of schedule… This is supposed to be my day 24 poem. Well, never mind. Now that I’m too early I’m on prompt 😉

I secretly gave up on you

I secretly gave up on you
Sure, I still go through the motions
“My name is Sue, how do you do?”
But I secretly gave up on you

I secretly gave up on you
These fleeting fragments of now
Together cannot create a future
You’re stuck in my past
So I secretly gave up on you

If we were to meet like we once met
What would I say to you?

Censored (strike through font)

Hello, how do you do?
I secretly gave up on you

If you don’t have a clue with how much emotion the sentence “My name is Sue, how do you do” can be spoken, you probably don’t know this Johnny Cash song:
Safe to say that in this poem, that sentence is meant as a metaphor for saying one thing and meaning another.

How I wish

How I wish you weren’t here
too many lost souls
swimming in this small bowl

Silently screaming, awkwardly appealing
to my sense of saviour

See me, feel me, touch me, hear me,
write me a song, pen me a letter,
tend to my needs, make me feel good

How I wish I didn’t hear
your lost soul
echoing in this fish bowl

I know you want to be found
but I’m not searching

Yesterday’s prompt was to use overheard conversation. In this case it’s an overheard song, Pink Floyd’s Wish you were here. And I’ve added a bit of The Who.


I didn’t want to hurt your feelings
but now that I’ve done it
I truly don’t mind

Beginner’s luck –
a high score
without even trying

Yesterday’s prompt was to use the language of sports and games. You can probably tell that one was still lingering in my mind 🙂

Today’s prompt on calls to use overheard conversation. She talked about how sweet he was is a poem that forever keeps the memory of a conversation I heard that irritated me endlessly. Reading back that poem, I remember where I was sitting, where she was sitting, and how she ignored the delicious looking dish she’d ordered.

Hopefully posting this will clear my mind to write about a new snipppet of overheard conversation. If so, I’ll probably post that tomorrow. For now, day 21 of #NaPoWriMo is done. I’ve been reading so much of the poetry that was posted this year that I feel my head is starting to overflow with words.