Prompt for the 17th begins with hopelessness, to end on a positive note.

Cause and Effect

Winter wanders in weeks of darkness, and I,
in a cold despair, wander too, though
my body never travels, yet my mind spends
winter aging, becomes inseparable:
one the cause, one the effect or perhaps
the other way round.

Only when the sun returns, when the wind
blows away the snow, do my thoughts return
to hopes of spring, the cycle of seasons,
warmth on my skin.

I return from thoughts of where it all ends
to focus on where it begins again.

Carol A. Stephen
April 17, 2018

This prompt is to write a poem where animals are doing something they shouldn’t.  A no-brainer here since last night on the CTV news (April 20) there was a story….

All Points Bulletin in Nanaimo

Last night in Nanaimo, a break-and-enter.
Inside the house a woman, armed with
nothing but an ice scraper, peered out, but
saw nothing, heard only the sounds of danger:
someone breaking in.

She shook as she dialed her neighbour’s number,
hollered for help. Waited for the police.
When the RCMP arrived, she sighed with relief.
The Mounties always get their man.

At the usual command about hands in the air
the perp turned around, gave quite a stare,
and slow but sure the tiny paws rose.
Nanaimo Norm, the most Canadian of perps,
a roly-poly beaver, turned tail and waddled off.

I don’t believe there’s a warrant out, but
he might want to hide out; he knows what
Canucks do with BeaverTails.®

Carol A. Stephen
April 16, 2018

Based on an April 20 2018 CTV news story.

This prompt requires the use of oddly-named desserts. I have bolded the names I used for ease of identification. I didn’t manage to include fat rascals, treacle sponge, or pond pudding.

Drizzle

Across the table at our local café, my date
hair in a black bun, spoons into his dessert, responds
to my question with a mumbled
summer berry grunt, his attention
focused on his food, a drizzle of purple
red juice runs down his chin.

Beside us, two teens, both dressed
in matching berry-red sweaters giggle,
raspberry fools in sweaters and jeans,
tossing their heads of tight dark curls.

The server passes by, hobnobs with
the girls. Drops a plate. It lands
face down in a puddle of rhubarb mess.
A smear of fruit clings to his left
shoe’s orange buckle.

I look down at my own dessert, a fat
round slice of jelly roll. Raspberry jam
oozes out of the cake. It looks a lot like
dead man’s leg, but proof is in the taste.

This guy is a washout, but there’s
consolation here on the plate.

Carol A. Stephen
April 15, 2018

This prompt asks for a poem where all lines begin with a country’s name. I admit this is not my favourite prompt nor poem:

Canada

Canada dresses in PJ bottoms to trek to the drive-thru at Timmy’s,
Canada orders a double-double dark roast, and a doughnut.
Canada gives me long stretches of grey pavement to drive beside
Canada’s old-growth forests burnt black and leafless in swampy ground.
Canada’s namesake goose lays down goose poop to carpet the riverbank.
Canada is not all igloos and snow.
Canada has a penchant for maple syrup, for some of us there’s poutine.
Canada has thousands of lakes, and thousands of miles of wilderness.
Canada shivers in winter, swelters in summer, bathes in brilliant
Canadian fall colours: red maples and orange, yellow birches which
Canada counterpoints with its deep emerald evergreens
Canada in spring blooms forth from the snow in crocuses and forsythia
Canada blossoms with apples, pears and peaches for pies.
Canada has science, medicine, astronauts, poets, and musicians.
Canada has it good because
Canada has Drake, Shawn Mendez, Ryan Gosling and Captain Kirk, AND
Canada has no Donald Trump.

Carol A. Stephen
April 14, 2018