Tag Archives: Art

Writing

WTF

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(Poem 285 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/gv2gcr

Why the face
my fri end?
Things could be worse
in the e nd.

Your head
could ex plode,
your left foot
become a to ad.

Your chin
could fall o ff,
or your ear
catch a cou gh.

Your nose
could multi ply,
or a mushroom
sprout from your th igh.

Your teeth
could grow f ur
and your elbow
begin to p urr.

I guess what
I’m trying to s ay
in my own
weird w ay,

is be thankful,
not ber eft,
you’ve got it good,
W T F!?!

@Home Studio – 285th poem of the year

Runner ups for the WTF photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Dieties

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(Poem 284 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/gkITyk

Just as deities make
people out of clay,
people fashion deities.
The many limbs and heads,
monstrous features,
horns and wings,
and fear-inducing
parts are what evoke
a sense of wonder
and awe, I suppose.

If I were to create
my own deity,
she would be a kindly
old woman with gentle
eyes and a hearty laugh,
who bakes bread,
tends to her garden,
wears an apron,
and pats my hand
while we sip tea.

@Home Studio – 284th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Dieties photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

From the Dust of the Ground

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(Poem 283 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Then Yahweh Elohim formed humans from the dust of the ground and breathed into the nostrils the breath of life; and humans became living beings.” Genesis 2:7

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/MlsaGg

The Mongolian god
Ulgen created the first man
from clay floating on the water.

The Bornean bird spirits
Ara and Irik used clay
and the sound of their voices.

In Ijaw tradition,
Woyengi fashioned humans
from earth
that fell from the sky.

Wonder Woman was sculpted
from clay by Hippolyta.

The goddess Aruru
created humans out of clay
according to the Epic of Gilgamesh.

And in the Korean Seng-gut,
humans are made from red clay.

The Chinese Nüwa
molded figures
from the yellow earth.

Vietnamese tales describe
Ngọc Hoàng and the Twelve Bà mụ
making people from clay.

The Qur’an, Torah, and Christian Bible 
say Yahweh and his angels
fashioned humans from dust
in their image.

@Home Studio – 283rd poem of the year

Bible Hub. Lexicon, Genesis 2:7, https://biblehub.com/lexicon/genesis/2-7.htm

Runner ups for the Clay Man photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Celestial Body

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(Poem 282 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/uh52gb

Her celestial body
is draped
in gossamer galaxies
and lacy luminosities
with flecks of infinite
cosmic dust
and gauzy strands
of nebulae birthing
baby stars.

Her swaying form
catapults asteroids
across the billowy
folds of organza
and satin,
hurtling dark matter
across crests
of supernovae,
bespeckling interstellar silk.

@Home Studio – 282nd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Mama Ninja

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(Poem 281 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zZe0f2

His mama was a ninja
who went by different names.
She rescued anyone in need,
without hope of gains.

His mama was a ninja,
good with knives and swords and fists,
but she also made the best katsu curry
and gave lovely handmade gifts.

His mama was a ninja
who could scale any wall
and dance across a roof peak
with no risk of a fall.

His mama was a ninja,
a fierce protector cloaked by night,
so he grew up to believe in justice
and always fight for what’s right.

@Home Studio – 281st poem of the year

Runner ups for the Mama Ninja photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Book Fairies

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(Poem 280 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/rqq9tW

My book fairies
come out at night
as all book fairies do,
but mine are pesky
little things
nuisances, that’s who.

They steal my things
like coins and rings
and put them who knows where.
They flit around
upsetting the dogs
and giving the cats a scare.

I know the night
is their time to roam
and I shouldn’t begrudge their fun,
but we’re trying to sleep.
We have work tomorrow,
and their revelry’s just begun.

Once in a while
they’ll do something nice
like leave a breakfast for me,
but even then,
they use books as plates
and put fish scales in my tea.

I wish them well,
health and long life
and all those other things,
but I need them to go
inhabit someone else’s shelves
with their constantly flapping wings.

@Home Studio – 280th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Fairies photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Taking Pictures of Flowers

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(Poem 279 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/NCPaCE

She fell in love near dusk
walking a gravel path that crunched
beneath their feet as they wandered
in search of flowers to photograph.

She had been gifted a new old camera
that made her feel nostalgic for a past
life, and he was looking for any excuse
to be alone with her to confess his feelings.

She bent to frame a delicate Magnolia
and his breath caught at her beauty.
He told her his heart would only continue
to beat if she accepted his love as her own.

She turned to him with a serious expression
and snapped a photo of his pained look.
“I accept,” she said, then took another
photo of his transformed elated visage.

She has both faces framed on her desk
and looks at them when she grows weary
of darkness and difficulties, to remember
that she was once someone’s next heartbeat.

@Home Studio – 279th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Camera photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

If This Was My Room

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(Poem 278 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/nd5OI4

If this
was my room,
I would never
do
anything
but nap
and watch
the weather
change her mind
and write silly
poems about
dappled light
and dancing clouds,
and daydream
after reading
old love letters
while listening
to “Bésame Mucho”
on Spanish guitar.

@Home Studio – 278th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Hole in the Ceiling

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(Poem 276 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/ue2v8M

There’s a hole
in the ceiling
that needs
to be fixed.

The leak
that caused the need
for the hole
has been repaired,
but the hole
remains.

I ponder that space
when the house
is quiet
and nothing else needs
my attention.

The naming of things
fascinates me,
and the fact that we have a word for the absence of something where another thing should be
gives me comfort.

It means
others have discovered
something missing
that needs to be there
and filled it with a name.

@Home Studio – 276th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Hole in the Ceiling photos to accompany my poem: