Big Tent's Final Prompt

My dogs Jake and Snowy

It’s a Dog’s World

Sassy’s master tried to train her well:

Sit, Sassy!
Demanding that she sit and stay
Fetch, Sassy!
Tossing tennis balls for her retrieval
Heel, Sassy!
Teaching her to walk on his left side

And this is what he got:

Whoosh!
Sassy ran right past him
In pursuit of squirrel-teases
As fuzzy yellow balls rolled on by
Sniff! Sniff!
Sassy stopped every fifth step to do her business
Getting lost in the leash’s tangled mess
Wag! Wag!
Sassy greeted happy friends and visitors with jumps of joy
Wet kisses and a thump-thumping tail

I guess the saying’s true:
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

@laurie kolp

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” was originally coined by E.C. Brewer in 1898.

Big Tent Poetry will be missed tremendously. I wish everyone the best in their endeavors. I'll be seeing you around!

Big Tent poetry prompt

Big Tent Poetry’s prompt for this week was to take an old poem and revise it. This one was written two years ago when my middle child received his first holy communion. Since my youngest is doing the same thing this weekend, I thought it would be fun to work on it.

The Big Monument

Happy parents, friends and family
gathered together to proudly see,
their sweet young girl or boy
receive first holy communion with joy.

Flowers decorated the altar and pews
and everyone dressed in their best shoes.
Together they prayed in reverence
and watched with glee the innocence.

As each one took the bread and wine,
the choir sang glorious tunes divine.
After the service, all went to the hall
to celebrate with cake and pictures for all.

The day was a tremendously fine event,
one not to be forgotten; a big monument.

-------------------------------------------------

My revised version, as you can see, is completely different. Which one do you like better?

A Momentous Occasion

Together friends and family

gather in church pews, ends

decorated with innocent banners

 honorees made for the joyous

occasion. Proud parents beam with joy,

their bribed children sit in a straight

row, gelled hair combed just right;

some with wiggly toes seeking release

from confining shoes. Innocent girls

dressed in lacy white bridal-like

gowns, debonair boys donning dark

suits and ties wait in line to taste

their first holy communion and sip

sweet wine, while behind a forest

of fragrant Easter lilies adorns

the joyous altar. Reverent prayer

sings within the choir until the fine

event ends. Pictures are snapped,

refreshments served. Everyone

leaves the hall ready to change

into more comfortable clothes.

@laurie kolp

Day 22

PA prompt- Only one in the world

Jesus

*

Joy

Everlasting love

Solace, serenity

Undying

Spirit

*

@laurie kolp

*****************************************

NaPoWriMo prompt- Double dactyl poem

Eleanor Roosevelt: For the people, not above them

Higgledy, piggledy
Eleanor Roosevelt
National prodigy
Stubborn as well;

Objecting to debutantes’
Idiosyncrasies
Coming out socially;
Cup of tea hell.

@laurie kolp

Day 21

Prompts:

Big Tent Poetry- What you would shout down the street

PA- A ‘second thoughts’ poem

-------------------------------------------------------

On Second Thoughts, I’ll Keep My Mouth Shut

Hey, Mr. Hoarder,

yeah, I’m talkin’ to you

with all that tacky furniture

and stuff stacked high

overflowing

out the garage

onto your driveway.

Man, when you gonna take down

that there blue tarp piece of crap

trashin’ your rooftop and trickin’ the birds

since Hur’cane Ike blew through?

@laurie kolp

Magpie Tales Monday

Her Only Hope


Judging eyes bargain:
to see the truth at last
awaken, step out;
a quantum leap
from fish to fledgling.

Day 7

Never Tease a Weasel

He had a breadstick for a nose
darty eyes, a moving head;
and when he chose to speak, y’all,
slimy sounds were often said.

The guys all called him Weasel
but his real name was Aumen;
a bunch of grapes a’taunting
beneath his pimpled chin.

Why would you tease a weasel?
All the girls would criticize
as they grabbed the sour grapes
flung them in the bullies’ eyes.

Each day to him Russian Roulette
a secret game he played at home,
and despite the animosity
Aumen answered with Shalom.

Until the day his mom caught on
and tried to intervene,
poor Aumen turned the gun on her
raging fire, putrid green.

Perhaps a scare would do the trick
it worked each time he played,
so he grinned and pulled the trigger
then screamed when life did fade.

@Laurie Kolp

*NaPoWriMo prompt
*Big Tent Poetry

Previous poems about Aumen can be found under the Big Tent Poetry prompts (days listed in Comments)

Big Tent prompt: Wordle

Another delightful wordle from Big Tent Poetry this week, only this time with an added challenge to include phrases. I was able to use all of the twelve wordle words and one phrase in this piece- “Say more.” And of course I used "He started by___" as my title.

I challenge you to use the final phrase, "There is also the matter of ___" in a comment.  Can't wait to see what you come up with. Enjoy!

He Started by Fire

A Mardi Gras parade

Thundering beats vibrating within an empty heart

Tangled with long forgotten memories begging to wake

A Tina Turner thigh kicking and marching

A typical boyish flame ignited in reckless passion

Now a feral animal in search of prey

Following plums and melons, jewels and crowns

A knowing smile no words can defy

A burning question only her gasp can suffice

His elbow a machete clearing the way

Through a thick forest of merry-makers

His feet slipping on spilt beer

Trampling on others

A wild hog in the blurry woods

Faster and faster he runs

His mind lost in the crowd

Yells and drums and music

Drown taunting thoughts

Until “Wait!” escapes his parched lips

He wants to say more

He watches her slip away

Gasping for the very breath she gave

  

Big Tent prompt: A day to celebrate (or not)

no reason to celebrate

a whiff of bacon trickled through the crisp

air, rousing the boy from another reckless

sleep, which seemed to be the norm since.

that. day. one. year. ago. slowly he opened

heavy eyes as his deadweight body remained

glued to the bed. shouldn’t he feel happy

for the time that had passed? for the new

life he had? for old Pawpaw and Granny’s

constant doting over every move he made?

yes he should, but no he didn’t. a year

come and gone, and nothing had changed.

sadness and guilt gripped his shoulders,

pulled him down. every day. and every

night. still. there would be no joyful

celebration like he thought. the boy rolled
over and fell fast asleep. not even bacon

would change his mind.

Big Tent Poetry Prompt-- 2-11-11

*

UP

He

is

the

one

He is the one,

the only one is He

who lifts me up,

my spirits He lifts

in peaceful harmony;

harmony, harmony.

I ask and

He is here,

right here beside me,

beside me, within me

everywhere around me

for all eternity.

I ask and

He loves,

loves me

unconditionally

at all times,

good times

and bad,

bad or worse;

my God

God

will

never

let

me

down

*

The prompt over at Big Tent Poetry this week was to write a happy poem, since the gloomy weather has so many of us down (me, too).  This is what works for me.  Sometimes I put too much negative energy into worrying about wordly things- people, situations, stuff.  Therefore, I get let down.  But when I trust in God, I always find peace and love.      

Blessings ~ Laurie

Big Tent Prompt

Big Tent Poetry invited participants to write a poem inspired by Referential Magazine's published pieces.  Redemption came to me after reading The angel on my shoulder is mute as stone and nowhere near as heavy in Scott Owens' 13 Ways to Angels. My poem is based on a real life experience I had when a stalker tried to attack me and I locked myself in a closet on the porch of my apartment, but the meaning can be interpreted in many ways.  Hope you enjoy! 

Redemption

by Laurie Kolp

I sit on a red toolbox  

alone in the dark,

blocked from the devil  

waiting on the other side.  

My heart is a hammer

thump, thumping

in my head.

I close my eyes

and start to pray.

Suddenly I stand up.

The angel on my shoulder
is mute as stone and nowhere
near as heavy

but it gives me courage

to face the ugly beast.

I carry the hammer in my hand

and walk out of the dank closet

prepared to face my enemy,

but all I see is light.

*Scott Owens’ 13 Ways of Angels
"Referential Magazine"