Winning Poem

Self-Doubt Blues

I look at other writers' work
And wonder why I'm such a jerk.
Their "Good News" brings a jealous sigh,
If they can do it why can't I?

Then sit-me-down is what I do
And write until my story's through,
Revise, revise, and send it out.
Persistence WILL win over doubt!
--Evelyn B. Christensen

*"I am drawn to the spunk of this poem. We, who have somewhat succeeded, have all been there in the past, and the author is right. Persistance and attitude are key! Success comes next."
-- Carol Nevius (Jones), author of Karate Hour and Building With Dad.

*"Good rhythm, rhyme and message."
-- Shari Lyle-Soffe, author of The Misadventures of Rooter and Snuffle and ON the Go With Rooter and Snuffle

Honorable Mentions

Responsibilities, bills, and woes
The clamor never ceases
The baby's eating paper! No!
My story it's in pieces
That story took me weeks to write
I called it, "Harry's Nieces"
All that blood and sweat and toil
"Well girls, rest in pieces."
--Johannah Winchurch

*"This one was very cute and funny, and I'm sure a lot of writing moms can relate. I liked her meter and word choice."
-- Kay Pluta, author of There's a Yak In My Bed,released April 1, 2007 from Blooming Tree Press.

I know that couplets come in two's,
I tried to tell that to my muse,
But when I tried to hear her speak,
I found she only spoke in Greek;
It wasn't till I heard her beat
A rhythm with iambic feet,
That I began to have a clue
Of what I might submit to you.
-- Diana C. (Arnalda)

*"She writes a funny verse that scans and is written in iambs -- nice wordplay too. Very original."
-- Peggy Fieland, whose poetry has been published in anthologies and magazines.

Oh, there goes my heart
Pushed through the mail slot again
Am I good enough?
-- Julie Lucaci

*"Captures in three lines the feeling we all have when we get back a response in the mail." -- Peggy Fieland

Husband heaves a sigh,
Lonely in the other room.
Wife keeps on writing.
--Wendy Dickson (rkymtncanuck)

*"It's economy of words brings not only a vivid image to mind, but a complicated connection of commitments, to both the marriage, to the task of writing...my sentence about it seems way too much!" -- Carol Nevius (Jones)

There was a kidwriter of prose,
Rejected for being verbose.
She joined ICL --
Learned to show and not tell.
Her publishing credits soon rose.
-- Joan W. Winter

*"I love limericks. This tells a story, and it all works." -- Shari Soffe

The Way It Goes
Ah! At last I've time to write.
Mind goes blank. The page stays white.
Later, when I'm super busy
Thoughts come fast and spin me dizzy.
Jot 'em down for next dry spell.
Precious paper, guard it well.
--Cindy Breedlove

*"Cindy succinctly sums up the rhyming life in perfect rhyme and meter!" -- Kay Pluta

Still, She Cannot Write the Spring

It was a cold Christmas
That chilled the roots and left no promise
Against the hard consonants of November.
A songless sparrow picks lichen
From trees standing bare in the wind
And listens with her for a touch
Of sunlight, for words to melt the icy ground,
To bear the burden of a crocus
Rising through frozen earth.
--Doraine Bennett

*"I chose this one because of the gorgeous lyrical imagery. It was like dark chocolate, bittersweet." -- Kay Pluta.

An Ode to a Cliche

'Suddenly'...'all at once'...'without warning'..
...................my heart stopped!
Was it something wretched
...................that carried me away?
Or was it just emotion
...................that prompted that cliche?
All too dim, the answer lies
............behind the ever mournfull sighs.
Where do we then perpetuate
............the thoughts we must articulate?
God forbid that 'suddenly'
............we'd find ourselves in ecstacy.
And 'without warning' conjugate;
.........or 'all at once' appropriate
...................the proper phrase
to fill the gap of old cliches
.......that habitat in cozy corners of our mind,
just waiting for the proper time
.......to tempt us with their easy tone.
A rapture that we all condone,
........but none the less that soon is gone...
'suddenly'.....'all at once'....'without warning'!
---Jeanne Clarke

*"Boy, that "suddenly" gets us all, doesn't it? Clever poem." -- Kay Pluta

There once was a New Jersey Girl
who tried to give writing a whirl.
She submitted her work
but she felt like a jerk
when her tale made the editor hurl!
-- Janice Harrell

*"It all works, it tells a story, and it is funny." -- Shari Soffee

To Build a Story
A writer, like wind,
Fans imagination’s flame
'Til blazing words grow
-- Lori Z. Scott

*"Lovely images in Haiku form describing the creative process." -- Peggy Fieland

Love of Fare

At the poetry fair
verbiage fills the air
as I sample each poet's concoction

Haiku-rich canapés
free-form salads, parfaits
of thick verse, sonnets baked to perfection

Wine of symbol and sound
liqueur lyrics abound
I'm becoming an addict of diction

Till I stumble around
very drunk on profound
poems that make my head spin in confusion

But wait, here is a booth
of poetic uncouth
Out of place at this fair, my objection

Then I look at the name
and find mine is the same
it's my very own poetry section

So where are the trays
and the tasty displays
piping hot and fresh-baked for consumption?

What seemed clever and bold
how tastes cliché and cold.
bland, and lacking in wise introspection

As I've wandered this fair
I have gained, tasting here
a fine palate of discrimination

Now to retain my space
in this prestigious place
I'd best spend some more time in the kitchen
--Violet Nesdoly

*"I enjoy the pun title, and the tasty treats of word choice; it's cute and clever." -- Carol Nevius Jones

Poems
(With apologies to Joyce Kilmer and Ogden Nash)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
In fact, unless the words do flow,
I'll never have a work to show.

The deadline's come and--just my luck--
I'm almost done, but the rhythm's stuck.
When once again the verbiage flows,
Alas, the patterned meter goes!

I get that fixed, I'm nearly done.
I start to think, "Why this is fun!"
A thought creeps in to make things worse:
I have no poem -- I have verse!
-- Carol Clark

*"I like the humor, and the rhythm. Once again it tells a story." -- Shari Soffe

Ode to an Idea

Oh, you illusive
----------little
-----------------tease.
Fluttering through my mind
-----------on a breeze
------------like a butterfly---
-----lighting and
-----------------leaving,
------------------------aimlessly
-----weaving---
Never staying still
-------------long enough
-------------------for me to catch you!

But here I give notice,
My net's in my hand.
I'm just going to wait here,
Your capture I've planned.

I know you're still out there
---------------------so don't try to flee.
---------------------One sunny moment
You'll come back to me.

My net will swoop down
----and I'll
----------------catch
---------------------------you with ease.
You're one of my finest
-----------------------and grandest
------------------------------ideas!
-- Eileen Luna

*"I enjoyed the fun, light-hearted imagery in this one. Makes me want to keep a butterfly net by my desk." -- Kay Pluta

Writer’s Insomnia

I brush my teeth and say my prayers then snuggle up in bed.
But I can not sleep. My mind won’t rest as words swirl in my head!

I toss and turn. I watch the clock. Then I start counting sheep,
for I refuse to let these words prevent a good night’s sleep.

But soon the sheep start whispering their words into my brain.
That nasty little chattering flock is driving me insane!

“Go find a ram; nag someone else. Oh, please… just go.” I say.
“Why can’t you bring these words to me sometime during the day?”

But the sheep continue whispering, long into the night,
until I know I'm destined to get out of bed and write.

So I throw on my old tattered robe and brew a pot of tea,
then sit down at my writing desk where words spill out of me.
--Janice Harrell

*"It tells a story, one we can all relate to. It all works, no forced rhyme." --Shari Soffe

There once was a writer of verse
Who gave up her job as a nurse
She started to write from morning to night
But found out the pressure was worse!
-- Glynis Belec

*"This is short and sweet and in perfect rhyme and meter. And better than all that, it shows that writing isn't as easy as people think. More pressure than being a nurse -- who would have thought!"--Kay Pluta

And More Wonderful Poems

Another Rejection Letter

A laptop, a printer, and a whole bunch of ink
Will the publisher like it or say that it stinks?
Revise and revise and revise once again
My fingers are sore from that unconvinced pen
Manuscripts mailed with query to question
Will you publish it, please? Without hesitation!
I’ve worked so intensely to create every submission
Being a published, famed writer is my lifelong obsession
Ah! ‘Tis the famous SASE returned in the mail
I tear it open to see…did I succeed or just fail?
I hold in my hands another dreaded form letter.
“We appreciate the story, but we found one that’s better.”
That rejection letter gets tossed in the heap
I throw a tantrum, I scream, I lay down, then I weep
However, don’t worry! I’ll begin writing some more
After all, writing’s my passion. It’s what I live for!
-- Shelly Nicholson

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

What charm in a rhyme!
When it says just the thing
That you want it to say,
And in such a fine way!
I should spend all my time
Just thinking up rhymes.
- Karen Rathbun

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

Comma Confusion

There once was a comma named Mark.
He didn't always know where to park.
He'd jump place to place
And look for a space
Found one at the end for a lark!
-- Marianne Nielsen

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

From the View Point of a Blank Piece of Paper

I am a blank piece of paper.
Look at me and think of all the possiblities!
I could be a poem or a story.
I could tell of anything from any part of the world
(beyond, over, or under, for that matter!)
I could tell of anything that you may want to say!

I am a blank piece of paper.
Look at me and see all the possibilities!
I can be romantic or tragic.
I could be interesting or funny.
I could tell facts or I could tell you the news.
I could tell of anything that you may want to know!

I am a blank piece of paper.
Look at me and imagine all the possibilities!
I could be made into all kinds of shapes.
I have the ability to be any color.
I can be printed, painted, crayoned or inked.
I could be any kind of art you may want to create!

I am a blank piece of paper.
Look at me and feel all the possibilities!
Please don't be scared of me.
I am extremely friendly and fun.
Make me into something for yourself or a friend.
I can be part of the best thing you've ever done!
- Leilani Cuson

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

CREATION

What to say?
What to write?
My mind is a candle
Unlit in the night.

The light would be brilliant
And chase out the dark
If I could just get it lit--
If I could just find a spark.
--Rick Routh

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

MINDSOOT

Mindsoot and rust of quartered meat,
My sonnets lie beneath my feet.
Ground and crumpled, lifeless peat,
Most are dead, but all are freed.

The blood of thoughts that leaves my mind,
Like babes in buntings, can’t describe.
No useful words, dull imagery…
Bland reviews are all I see.

Upon a threshold now I stand
With mindsoot sifting thru my hand,
Will I forsake my need to write?
Or give it one last try?
--Laurel T. Sheridan

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

My Heart's Desire

Here I sit
Broken hearted
Want to write
Can't get started

Inspiration Fleeting
a wisp away
almost there
will not stay

Dreams are memories
Neither here nor there
Can't pull them out
Of thin air

Must keep trying
My hearts desire
Tomorrow is new
I will not tire
-- Sherry Robshaw

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

I Don't Want To Write Anymore!

My fingers ache, my back is so sore,
I don't want to write ANYMORE!

I'm cranky! I'm cross! My desk is a sight!
Why did I ever think that I could write?

I moan and groan, I shift and sigh,
I just CAN'T write, so why do I try?

This morning, a rejection slip arrived in the mail.
"That's it!" I say, "My work just won't sell!"

Minutes ago, the computer shut off and, "EEEEE!!!"
My work of today is lost forever! Why me, oh, why me?!

I shake the computer and plead, "Give my work back!!"
But the cruel computer remains silent, empty, and black.

The toddler just grabbed a page of my first draft and ran,
I leap to my feet. "Return that now, young man!"

He runs into the bathroom. My page disappears with a flush!
Gasp! I'm angry! I'm hurt! I'm CRUSHED!

I clutch my hair and grit my teeth and then-
"Enough's enough!" I cry aloud, "I'll NEVER write again!"

My sister says, "Care for a walk? It's a beautiful day.
It'll help you relax and you look a bit cross, by the way."

I turn and stare and cock my head and then I sigh,
I must admit the truth to her . I know I cannot lie.

"A walk would be nice," I reply, "And I am a little uptight.
But I must decline, I'm afraid, because... this is my time to WRITE."
--ERIN O'QUINN

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

Writing Riddle

Small and slim
Wooden coat
Little pointed foot

Two lakes
One bridge

Ye mock me
I can write no more
nor focus my thoughts
-- Vivian Perry Child

Answer to the riddle: my pencil and my glasses
[Magic answer: run your mouse over these lines and the answer will appear!

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

writing, wot?
superfluous sounds ding down
alliteration
-- Elizabeth Mangano

There once was a blank piece of paper,
Hungry for words from the maker;
I sat and I stared,
I pulled out my hair,
But its gaping maw merely grinned. Faker!
-- Elizabeth Mangano

"its" or "it's"
now which one is it -- it is? - is it?
I am so confused!
-- Elizabeth Mangano

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

Illustrating a picture book,
Is like battling Captain Hook.
-- James McNamara

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

Finding Time to Write

Little writing here, there and everywhere
Is all the time I can spare.
Washing, cleaning, and cooking each day
keeps me busy every which way.

My heart’s desire, to sit and write
but before I can it’s midnight!
Please help me with time management
so I can write and make a cent!
-- Carol Arnesman

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

Writer's Block

Guess what I have?
It's white with a blinking eye
It turns to a fish tank when I look at the sky
I feed it ice cream
It won't smile
I walk it a mile
It's still the same size
It comes out whenever I want to write
Oh, my!
--Hsiao-Yun Chang

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

KEYBOARD BLUES

I’m having the keyboard blues,.
Drowning in misery too.
If I can meet my deadline,
All will work just fine;
But my home life is like a zoo.

I’m having the keyboard blues,
Lots of edits and rewrites too.
I have a pile of mending,
And the parakeets need tending,
And the floors are all covered with goo.

I’m having the keyboard blues.
I have queries to send, a few,
If I could just get started;
But sane thought has departed,
And I’m ready to cry, boo-hoo.

I’m having the keyboard blues.
Wish I could sit and read the news;
But this chapter I must finish,
My work load won’t diminish,
I can’t think of a thing that’s new.

I’m having the keyboard blues.
I could use some very good news.
Some would say that’s “writer’s block”,
Some would say that’s just a crock,
Just sit down and write it through.

I’m having the keyboard blues.
I’ll finish this when I choose.
I just made a cup of tea,
And I will plan to type ‘til three,
A whole night’s sleep I’ll lose.

The blues have now taken wing.
It really wasn’t such a big thing.
I just sold that fiction story,
Now I’m in my height of glory.
As my billfold sings CA-CHING!
-- Becky Roop

-----------

WORDS

Me bright
Me write
Me grow
To show
Me revise
For prize
You slight
Me uptight
You chastise
Me despise
But
In spite
Of fright
Me bright
Me write

-- Cathie Mayovsky

-----------

I am writing this poem from thoughts undone
No purpose is set in mind
I'm writing it purely for some sort of fun
(Which makes it harder to rhyme)

I'm writing the second stanza now
The first one is complete
And now I must think of how
To start on number three

Three is the hardest yet by far
Of all that I have writ
It's obvious to me that the farther I are
The quicker I run low on wit

This poem is starting to stress me out
It's direction is taxing my brain
So I think I will scrap the whole dang thing
And maybe go to bed.

--Rick Routh

-----------

Mute Apparitions:
Haiku for Children chalk bright
hopscotch down each page.
--Norma Bowkett

-----------

This Writer’s Reality
I’m amused by my muse, every single day
When I sit down to write, and my thoughts run away
I twist and I turn this way and that
But these odd contortions can’t get my mind back
Then when I’m driving, or showering, or worse
It all comes right back - that perfect verse
I search and I scrounge for paper and pen
But when I find them, my words leave me again
Woe is me, for I am a mess
But every day I go back to my desk
And ponder, and think, and dream wild dreams
Then suddenly the words flow out like a stream
I type and I type and get it all out
When I’m all finished, I scream and I shout
I send it here, and I send it there
I send it absolutely everywhere
Rejection, rejection, rejection - I’m doomed
And then one letter changes my mood
I’m being published, I’m famous, a star
But that twenty-five dollars just doesn’t go far
So I start over again and my muse takes flight
Why do I do it? Because I know I can write
--Joanne Hirase-Stacey

SEASONED WRITER
Stapler, hole punch, pens,
huddled on top my desk pad
nestled tween speakers.

Gazing out window
glimpsing flag waving in breeze
brings sweat or shudders.

Busy, what’s the theme
for today’s writing story
Or praps article?

No, winter’s blowing
Out and Spring is sure to pounce
Writing kids warm blast.
-- Jolie

Writer’s Block
Here I sit writer’s block stricken
Think all the poems have been written
Can’t think of a single rhyme
What’s that? My clock chime
Well I’ll be
All for me
A Rhyme
Just in time.
--Warren Mitchell

My Best
My best work I make complete
When night comes and I'm half asleep
So if you find me at my desk
Slumpped over a piece of paper
With a pencil in hand
And on the floor my eraser
Just leave me there
Till the morning's come
And a new poem
May very well be done
--ReGina K.

Pen
Write, scribble, compose, create
Jot it down before its too late!
--Penny Homontowski

Oh what the heck
I am a wreck
My desk is a mess
And I’m so stressed
I look at the clock
I hate writer’s block

What am I to do?

I simply should stop and say
I must just throw my cares away
And write a poem or two
--Donna Spencer

How much writing could a writer write
If a writer could really write well
They could write all through the night
In the pale silver moonlight
And in the morning they would really feel swell
--Donna Spencer

-----------

Alliteration Addiction
A writer weaves wads of wonderful words
To manage a mire of mixed emotions churned
To search inside ones saddened soul
To whisper of ones wounded woes
To initially index important ideas and idioms
To prepare and primp the most private of poems
To arrange amazing adventures, afar and above
To lounge and list out long letters of love
To reach for reactions, both relaxed and rather riled
To share with special sisters some secretes and smiles
To believe and bloom, to those bigotries burn
To laugh and love, to live and learn
--Chris Shanley-Dillman

-----------

T'was the night before deadline,
when all through the house,
the clocks were all ticking,
there was no time for a spouse.
The writer was headed for a deadline race,
Her novel would change the whole human race.
But....her pages were blank,
Her character's stank,
Her storylines were stubbly,
Her pencils were all nubbly!
When to the top of the keyboard there rose such a clatter
Words apppeared like cyperchase chatter.
To the top of the page,
To the top of the word,
To the top of the story,
The ideas flew like birds!
On verbiage,
On conflict,
On characterization,
The best seller hit the whole wide nation.
White as a ghost the screen missed a clue,
There was nothing to do!
Out of the blue came a word or two.
The ghost writer's motto came clear
To the trembling writer there was nothing to fear.
Send scribbles,send syllables,send stories up the flue.
Write,write ,write till your passsion comes through
Believe in your writing
Let your words become all new
Believe in yourself and your dreams
...will come true
-- Mary Speer

-----------

'Twas the Night Before Deadline

"Twas the night before deadline,
And all through the house,
No pen was working,
And neither was my mouse!

My inkwell I found,
Was empty and bare,
For the Schaeffer I snatched,
Then threw in despair.

I looked in my wardrobe,
And under the beds,
Sat up too fast,
And cracked my head.

I staggered around
In shock from the rap,
I needed a pen,
But I wanted a nap!

I searched and I dug,
Tripping over my clutter,
Mad as a hatter,
I'd started to mutter.

I emptied the file cabinet,
Quick as a flash,
Bleeding all over,
Ignoring a gash.

I dumped out the vacuum,
Into the snow,
If I'd sucked up a pen,
I wanted to know!

Then Hubby drove up,
The truck drawing near,
I shoved him aside,
And put it in gear.

"What are you doing?
Have you lost your wits?"
"I ran out of pens!
Step on it! Quick!"

The truck lurched and stalled,
Clunking in pain,
Mad, I jumped out,
The dumb thing had gone lame.

I hollered and bellowed,
Swearing in vain,
I needed some ink,
Or I feared I might maim.

"Come here, everyone,
And you better listen!
I need some help!
Start in the kitchen!

"To the laundry room!
To the end of the hall!
The attic! The basement!
Ignore any calls!"

My searchers they flew,
Away with a sigh,
They thought I was nuts,
But said they would try.

We searched all the rooms,
And the carport, too,
Hubby had even,
Gone up on the roof!

"None here!" he shouted,
As I heard him move,
Clumping around,
He let out an "OOF!"

Across the lawn,
I went with a bound,
Stalking the hedges,
That grew all around.

A rake swung up,
Hurting my foot,
"Damn! I give up!
This search is kaput!"

Then suddenly,
A noise from out back,
The paperboy came,
He had a backpack!

His eyes - how they widened,
"Why, hello there, Larry..."
He backed away fast,
I must've looked scary!

He darted and bobbed,
While I dove in low,
"Just give me a pen
And I'll let you go!"

A smack on my nose,
With the news from this week,
He then poked in his pack,
His tongue in his cheek.

"Hurry up!" I snapped,
"Come on now, really!"
"Be quiet," he said,
"You sound like Ms. Kelly."

He dumped the pack out,
Papers, books, and a shelf!
I laughed at the mess,
He packed just like myself!

Larry found me a pen,
A cool one in red,
The magical key,
To earning my bread.

He packed up his things,
Like a good little clerk,
And I was ashamed,
I'd been such a jerk.

The deadline could wait,
For my mighty prose,
One minute I'd spare,
Away from those woes.

I hugged the poor man,
And how he did bristle,
He went on his way,
Refusing my kissle.

He called as he walked,
"Meet that deadline tonight!
This pen is your chance,
Now go make it write!"
-- Madelyn Yvone Moffki

-----------

A Writer
There once was a writer called tough.
All the while she scribbled rough.
So she perceived.
And conceived.
So she turned buff from stuff.
-- Donna Munro

-----------

Trickling, peaceful stream
Rushing, churning river's surge
Thoughts begin to flow
-- Teresa Rodrigues (terbi)

-----------

Cotton candy thoughts
are dissolving in my brain
like snowflakes on tongues.
~Angelique Zerillo

-----------

The Funny Thing 'Bout Poetry
The funny thing 'bout poetry is many people buy it.
And even funnier than that is many people try it.

Besides the fact that it's a way to tell your thoughts a little
without completely ope'ning up--like speaking in a riddle,

Besides the fact that it's a kind of beautiful creation,
like taking all our boring prose and going on vacation,

Besides the fact that poetry makes all the world seem brighter
(for after pouring out our woes on paper, we feel lighter),

Besides the fact that there's no way to calculate it's worth--
the way the mast'ry of it's language gives us second birth--

The funny thing 'bout poetry: it's just a waste of time.
So why does all the writing of it make me feel sublime?
-- Sarah Chang

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

Droplets of black ink
Scribbles forming obscure words
Inspiration - lost
-- Jeanette Marchand

HAIKU FOR THE PROCRASTINATOR
The bull will give milk
And the cow will lay brown eggs
Ere these subs are mailed.
***

The mail truck has gone.
My subs did not go with it.
When will they leave me?
***

Snow falls soft and cold.
Too cold to go and mail these.
Some day, though, I will.
***

Now the world is dark.
When the sun comes up I go
To mail them. A dream?
***

Not if I don't stop
With this junk and start to stick
Stamps on the dang things.
-- Kate Wilson (ColorodoKate)