%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 Entries to The Daily Poem Contest. |
It makes sense to keep them all in one place. 
|
| Hubris Hobbled Hang-on Harold holds the hazardous handle while the Hummer hurtles home. “Hah!” he hollers, heartily hammering through the highway’s holes. Had he headed heavenward, heart heaving heavily, we’d have huddled down. Halted be the Hummer, happy be the host, held the halting handle. Line count: 12 Free verse For The Daily Poem, 03.12.26 Prompt #12 for March: Dead Man’s Switch - Use alliteration. |
| This Won’t Hurt a Bit If I leap in the air, behave like a hare, groan ever so deep, or shout in my sleep, If my look is downcast, complain to the last, sigh like romancer, and give surly answer, speak only in mumbles, make lists of my grumbles, my problem’s not youth and is more about tooth. You see I’m not mental, the pain is now dental. I should have seen dentist, get him to prevent this. Line count: 16 Rhymed aabb For The Daily Poem, 03.11.26 Prompt #11 for March: Anything dental-related. Must have at least one tooth reference. |
| Conflate Pick the cherries from the tree blend them with the cream whip them smooth as they can be on sundae of your dream. A little bit of this and that can complement the mixture it works as well in text or chat to decorate the picture. As blue and yellow will be green yet others will not please and mud will often be the mean encouraging unease. Line count: 12 Rhymed abab For The Daily Poem, 03.10.26 Prompt #10 for March: Conflate. |
| Bottles A vial for this, a phial for that, one makes you hiss, the other grow fat. This one to dream, a love potion strong, another to scheme and rise from the throng. These are the lotions, elixirs and tinctures, exotic concoctions, mysterious mixtures. Line count: 12 Rhymed abab For The Daily Poem, 03.09.26 Prompt #9 for March: A photo of little bottles filled with dark liquids. |
| Thoughts on the Roof What if my mind were weightless with thoughts like hard seeds within little nuggets of potential in waiting for the day when I fall to earth my dreams sprouting roots and stems to spread into the loam of life as my rotten being decays in death? I really should get out more. Line count: 8 Free verse For The Daily Poem, 03.09.26 Prompt #8 for March: Photo of person sitting on car roof amid mountains - thoughts only, nothing concretely relating to the senses (no see, hear, touch, taste, smell). |
| A Curious Tail Anna Chronism had a thing for getting things she oughta - she wore a watch but not a ring that I had never bought her. She travelled by the underground built by her friend Attila. “Oh, hun,” she said, “I need a pound of doughnuts from the miller.” Buzz Armstrong offered gallantly to buy rock cakes instead, but Anna answered silently she’d rather end up dead. And so the lady went without, elevenses forgotten. I see her often riding out with her friend, Johnny Rotten. Line count: 16 Rhymed abab For The Daily Poem, 03.07.26 Prompt #7 for March: Anachronism - Don't use time, future, past, history, period (or any derivatives of those words). |
| Skin I’ve heard it’s skin that keeps you in or you’d get out and roam about which may be true at least for you but it being best of all the rest to stay inside your bounding hide and so avoid the yawning void. Keeps out the rain and muffles pain. Line count: 14 Rhymed aabb For The Daily Poem, 03.05.26 Prompt #5 for March: Skin - Use a blank space intentionally. |
| The Ballad of Hip Replacement I’m not now quite as pliable as once I certainly was. They called me Mr Reliable and I’d not have been fazed by Oz. But age has hardened my take - I tend not to bend but break and my body has learned how to ache. Line count: 7 Rhymed abab ccc For The Daily Poem, 03.04.26 Prompt #4 for March: Pliable - Make your poem either 7 or 17 lines. |
| Patrol Five trees in the winter waste, clones of each other embattled, by blizzard winters faced, in military formation shackled. Alone in the world they stand, by all companions deserted, holdouts in isolation grand, with emptiness they’re skirted. Like a patrol in no man’s land, their service beyond reason, they brave the enemy’s hand, and dream of other seasons. Line count: 12 Rhymed abab For The Daily Poem, 03.03.26 Prompt: Photo of five trees standing alone in an empty, snowy field. |
un: 
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Community Feed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
