April 8—For today's prompt, write a ready to celebrate poem. You could chronicle the actual celebration or even write about the anticipation of one.
Are You Ready To Ce-le-brate?
By Bill Kirk
Some might say a cause for celebration
Hardly comes along every day.
Yet maybe that’s cause enough to be ready,
Wouldn’t you say—to giggle, smile, shout, congratulate?
After all, there’s always plenty
To bemoan our pitiful circumstances
And ample reason to groan and complain,
Wondering why this or that hard knock happened.
But then, along comes some happy time
Or its memory or the anniversary of one,
That curls up the mouth corners, even if only slightly.
So, shouldn’t we be ready for those happy-nings,
Whether anticipated or unexpected?
You know, just in case?
Oh, sure. We could also be ready
To sink into the depths of depression.
After all, deference to the sensibilities
Of those who suffer loss is at times
The only right thing to do.
Yet even in the midst of inconsolable sadness,
The spark of joy and gladness awaits its turn
To give another day of life its due,
In anticipation of yet a better one.
“This is the day the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)
Showing posts with label wishes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wishes. Show all posts
Friday, April 8, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Poem A Day Challenge For April 2
April 2—The prompt for day 2 is to write a postcard poem. Make it brief and communicate what it is like where you are. Also, make it personal.
Postcard Wishes
By Bill Kirk
Just got to my “room”.
There are windows galore—
On all sides, in fact,
From ceiling to floor.
A post at each corner,
In the middle, a mast;
We’ll tie off our hammocks
Oh, wow! What a blast!
We’ll sleep in “plein aire”—
A canopy above.
We four happy strangers—
Hey! What's up with the shove!?
What do you mean,
Those "shoves" are a gale
And our very large tent
Is now a large sail?
You’ve got to be kidding!
Pack up my gear?
Vacation is over?
Wish I weren’t here....
Saturday, March 26, 2011
A Writer's Postal Excitement Scale (Slightly Revised)
(Or the meaning of the top ten responses from editors and publishers)
By Bill Kirk
Dedicated to all writers everywhere--especially the new kids on the block--who are awaiting responses from the many submissions you have mailed out. Sometimes the anticipation is as good as it gets. But every once in a while, you might get lucky.... It could happen.
(NOTE: The order may vary depending on the size of the envelope, weight of the manuscript and the diameter of the coffee stain on the outside.)
#1: No response from the publisher….
The editor must be still thinking about it. So it's been a year---some people are thorough.
# 2: Your original outgoing envelope, returned unopened-manuscript still inside, with no notes, no form letter or any other indication that anyone or anything besides a Pitney-Bowes mail sorter has touched it....
I wonder what that little pointy finger next to the "Return To Sender" stamp means?
#3: A returned SASE with nothing inside….
Must have liked it so much they made copies and are still passing them around the office!
#4: An SASE with a pre-printed, unsigned and unmarked form letter....
Ya gotta love the extra effort and attention! Besides, someone had to write the form letter, didn't they? So, I coulda been the first one they sent it to, right?
#5: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter with one box checked.... Wait. All SIX rejection boxes are checked! Woo! Hoo!
Now we're talking! I can feel the love---every box is individually hand checked! Someone actually read me!
#6: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter and an encouraging rejection note-like, "I read this twice before throwing it away." or "Next time, don't waste your postage on a SASE"….
OMG, a perk! They're going to pay the return postage on my SASE next time. Quick! Send them something else---preferably before the postman drives away!
#7: A returned SASE with a marked up manuscript---in color crayon---and three Cheerios inside....
OK. So, the editor could have her 3-year old child on the payroll. Besides, some kids are prodigies.
#8: A returned SASE with the manuscript inside, marked up with legible comments like, "This is truly beyond belief! In my 25 years as an editor, I've never seen anything quite like it...."
Be still, my heart! Finally, someone who really understands how unique and creative I am.
#9: A returned SASE with a form letter and a signed hand-written note asking to see more….
YES!!! Hey, honey, where did you put the car ads? We gotta Jaguar in our future....
And the #10 response: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter and an anticipated date of publication... sometime within the next ten years....
Finally! I'm adding this puppy under my name at the bottom of my email messages!
HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL….
By Bill Kirk
Dedicated to all writers everywhere--especially the new kids on the block--who are awaiting responses from the many submissions you have mailed out. Sometimes the anticipation is as good as it gets. But every once in a while, you might get lucky.... It could happen.
(NOTE: The order may vary depending on the size of the envelope, weight of the manuscript and the diameter of the coffee stain on the outside.)
#1: No response from the publisher….
The editor must be still thinking about it. So it's been a year---some people are thorough.
# 2: Your original outgoing envelope, returned unopened-manuscript still inside, with no notes, no form letter or any other indication that anyone or anything besides a Pitney-Bowes mail sorter has touched it....
I wonder what that little pointy finger next to the "Return To Sender" stamp means?
#3: A returned SASE with nothing inside….
Must have liked it so much they made copies and are still passing them around the office!
#4: An SASE with a pre-printed, unsigned and unmarked form letter....
Ya gotta love the extra effort and attention! Besides, someone had to write the form letter, didn't they? So, I coulda been the first one they sent it to, right?
#5: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter with one box checked.... Wait. All SIX rejection boxes are checked! Woo! Hoo!
Now we're talking! I can feel the love---every box is individually hand checked! Someone actually read me!
#6: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter and an encouraging rejection note-like, "I read this twice before throwing it away." or "Next time, don't waste your postage on a SASE"….
OMG, a perk! They're going to pay the return postage on my SASE next time. Quick! Send them something else---preferably before the postman drives away!
#7: A returned SASE with a marked up manuscript---in color crayon---and three Cheerios inside....
OK. So, the editor could have her 3-year old child on the payroll. Besides, some kids are prodigies.
#8: A returned SASE with the manuscript inside, marked up with legible comments like, "This is truly beyond belief! In my 25 years as an editor, I've never seen anything quite like it...."
Be still, my heart! Finally, someone who really understands how unique and creative I am.
#9: A returned SASE with a form letter and a signed hand-written note asking to see more….
YES!!! Hey, honey, where did you put the car ads? We gotta Jaguar in our future....
And the #10 response: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter and an anticipated date of publication... sometime within the next ten years....
Finally! I'm adding this puppy under my name at the bottom of my email messages!
HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL….
Sunday, April 18, 2010
To Wish Is Its Own Reward
April 18: “For today's prompt, take the phrase "To (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Some examples: "To the left, to the left," "To write or not to write," "To Kill a Hummingbird," "To the Doghouse," etc. There are so many possibilities.”
Indeed, there are possibilities galore for this prompt—just choosing a title that is either a noun or a verb, an object or an action, leaves you with seemingly endless options. And there’s the serious or the silly, the reflective or the quirky.
A single letter can totally change the essence of a title or its poem. Consider the difference between “To Arms” (a call to immediate action) and “To Arm” (a potential question for reflective discourse). No doubt Robert Lee Brewer must toss and turn in his sleep to come up with daily prompts to challenge even the titling of a poem, much less the writing of it.
To Wish
Bill Kirk
To wish,
Whether quietly or aloud,
Is to hope, to desire, to anticipate.
As infinitives go, “to wish” is rare.
It holds a singular optimism that
Who we are,
What we are doing and
Where we are going
Will be as good as, or even far better than,
Our immediate here and now.
And to actually take the step
Of making a wish is a
Self declaration of our belief
In boundless possibilities,
Defined and confined
Only by the wisher.
Indeed, the very existence of
“To wish” in our language
Allows us to think in terms as large
As our imaginations are capable.
And then, we can wish even larger still
For something—anything—that is beyond
Everything which doesn’t yet exist.
Simple wishes are sometimes the best.
A child might wish for a silver dollar
In exchange for a first-pulled tooth.
Or a violinist for the purest of notes
To be called forth as bow meets string.
And is it too grand for a writer to wish
For sufficient inspiration to coax
Just the right words onto the page?
To be sure, certain wishes
Might not be in our own best interest
Or that of others.
Wishing a flat tire for the driver
Who just cut you off
Might slather momentary satisfaction
On a bruised psyche.
But what if your instantaneous mental snapshot
Of such an obvious transgression
Fails to take into account
The sick child in the back seat
En route the emergency room?
Even in the naming of our enemies,
Whether briefly or long term,
Do we not wish calamity for them—
And, in contrast, the better for us?
Yet in so doing, are we not the lesser for it?
Instead, aren’t the best wishes unselfish,
Like a prayerful request to improve our lot
But not at the expense of others?
And in our wishing, is it not best to wish boldly—
To let our imaginings run free?
Or do we fail to wish simply for fear of failure?
Wishing is at the heart of living and
Our capacity to wish is its own reward.
Everything else is gravy.
Indeed, there are possibilities galore for this prompt—just choosing a title that is either a noun or a verb, an object or an action, leaves you with seemingly endless options. And there’s the serious or the silly, the reflective or the quirky.
A single letter can totally change the essence of a title or its poem. Consider the difference between “To Arms” (a call to immediate action) and “To Arm” (a potential question for reflective discourse). No doubt Robert Lee Brewer must toss and turn in his sleep to come up with daily prompts to challenge even the titling of a poem, much less the writing of it.
To Wish
Bill Kirk
To wish,
Whether quietly or aloud,
Is to hope, to desire, to anticipate.
As infinitives go, “to wish” is rare.
It holds a singular optimism that
Who we are,
What we are doing and
Where we are going
Will be as good as, or even far better than,
Our immediate here and now.
And to actually take the step
Of making a wish is a
Self declaration of our belief
In boundless possibilities,
Defined and confined
Only by the wisher.
Indeed, the very existence of
“To wish” in our language
Allows us to think in terms as large
As our imaginations are capable.
And then, we can wish even larger still
For something—anything—that is beyond
Everything which doesn’t yet exist.
Simple wishes are sometimes the best.
A child might wish for a silver dollar
In exchange for a first-pulled tooth.
Or a violinist for the purest of notes
To be called forth as bow meets string.
And is it too grand for a writer to wish
For sufficient inspiration to coax
Just the right words onto the page?
To be sure, certain wishes
Might not be in our own best interest
Or that of others.
Wishing a flat tire for the driver
Who just cut you off
Might slather momentary satisfaction
On a bruised psyche.
But what if your instantaneous mental snapshot
Of such an obvious transgression
Fails to take into account
The sick child in the back seat
En route the emergency room?
Even in the naming of our enemies,
Whether briefly or long term,
Do we not wish calamity for them—
And, in contrast, the better for us?
Yet in so doing, are we not the lesser for it?
Instead, aren’t the best wishes unselfish,
Like a prayerful request to improve our lot
But not at the expense of others?
And in our wishing, is it not best to wish boldly—
To let our imaginings run free?
Or do we fail to wish simply for fear of failure?
Wishing is at the heart of living and
Our capacity to wish is its own reward.
Everything else is gravy.
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