Tag Archives: creativity

Poetry, Writing

Echoes of the Future

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(Poem 184 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/rUA3Kt   https://gencraft.ai/p/k2G0lW    https://gencraft.ai/p/UdPZrD

My mother’s voice was
a bit exasperated at the
absence of anyone home.
I did not hear the door
behind her as she left,
but hurried to let her know
I was there and say hello.
I opened the front door;
she was already in her car
but she turned off the engine
when she saw me and
decided to come back in,
or so I thought…
In her reality, she just
arrived, had not yet stepped
foot in the house, had felt
no annoyance at the absence
of anyone and made no sound.
What future echo did I hear
that never even happened?

@Genuine Joe’s – 184th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Echoes photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Grieving Mother – House of the Dragon

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(Poem 180 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/3PTiet  https://gencraft.ai/p/rcoJcL

The mother does what
any mother must do after
receiving the worst news
imaginable; she mounts
her dragon and flies as far
as she must for confirmation
with her own eyes that her
son has been taken from
this world in a vicious attack.
She must reckon with the
knowledge that all could
have been prevented by
her every step of the way,
so she has herself to blame
for her baby ending up in the
belly of the enemy’s beast.
A son for a son will become
the battle cry that brings
only blood to the realm.
Winter is truly coming.

@Home Studio – 180th poem of the year (after watching Season 2, Episode 1 of House of the Dragon)

Condal, Ryan and George R. R. Martin, creators. House of the Dragon. HBO Entertainment and Warner Bros., 2024.

Runner ups for the Grieving Mother photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Overtime

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(Poem 179 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/9ypUMC

Makin’ bacon
workin’ overtime.
So over
having none,
time to
play, dough
to spend,
breathing room,
lack of
lack, more
of plenty,
less of
less, unless
by choice,
space to
be alone
with creativity.

@Home Studio – 179th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Overtime photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Watermelon Sugar

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(Poem 178 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photographs taken by Charlotte Sullivan & Rebekah Marshall 6/10/24

I love the taste of
my watermelon sugar
straight from the green rind.

@Home Studio – 178th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Watermelon Sugar photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Ghost Whisperer

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(Poem 176 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Beyond the veil of the living
is the plain of the between,
where people linger after death
unable to be seen.

Only those who can’t let go
reside in this murky space,
but each lost soul has a story to tell
if someone can show them grace.

A Ghost Whisperer is sometimes summoned,
a spirit’s only hope,
communing with the voiceless ones
to help the living cope.

For usually, those who remain
feel burdened by an unexplained weight.
No sense can be made of their grief
or their loved ones’ undetermined fate.

If a satisfactory resolution
can be settled upon at last,
the ghost will finally release their hold
and accept that they have passed.

@Home Studio – 176th poem of the year (Inspired by the television show The Ghost Whisperer.)

Hewitt, Jennifer Love, Ghost Whisperer, Sander/Moses, CBS, 2005-2010.

Runner ups for the Ghost Whisperer photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Lesson 18 The Way of the Wizard

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(Poem 175 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“At the level of the ego, we struggle to solve our problems. Spirit sees that struggle is the problem.” – The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/7XIJKd  https://gencraft.ai/p/bhZDFJ

The madman who lived in a
hut deep in Camelot forest
was named Will for a reason.
He claimed to have no king,
despite Arthur ordering him
to come forth and explain.
According to his wife, grief
had walled him up after his
son died in a tragic accident.
The man named Will decided
to perish unless God himself
appeared and made plain
the reason for suffering.
Arthur sat all night speaking
with the man, who he felt
closer to than anyone else
in his kingdom, for he keenly
felt the suffering of his people
the poor, the sick, the burdened.
Arthur shared the wisdom
Merlin taught him, rather than
struggle against evil, realize
that it does not actually exist.
We create heaven and hell
with our own will, invent duality,
evil and good, light and shadow,
chase our tails to our own
detriment and create despair.
We must allow our will to be
free to choose to reject this
duality and permit unity to be
born in our hearts and minds,
rather than sealing ourselves
up in a hut deep in the woods
of grief where we await our deaths.

@Genuine Joe’s – 175th poem of the year

Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.123-128.

Runner ups for the Forest Hut photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Bless Your Heart

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(Poem 170 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Bless your heart, you simple soul;
not a thought going on up there.
No light on in that attic of yours, or
maybe the light’s on, but nobody’s home.
You mean well, but you can’t help
it that you’re not playing with a
full deck of cards. Poor thing fell out
of the family tree and hit every branch
on the way down. It’s not your fault
you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed;
you’ve lost your marbles, you’re
off your rocker, and your elevator’s stuck
between two floors. You’re thick as a post,
rowing with one oar, a pickle short of a barrel.
There might be a leak in your think tank,
one prop short of a plane, and I’m afraid you might
have a few loose screws. You’re a few peas
short of a casserole, two sandwiches
shy of a picnic, a drink short of a 6-pack,
and can’t think your way out of a paper bag.
It’s ok that you’re silly as a goose,
as smart as bait, and don’t have all
the dots on your dice. You may not be firing
on all 6 cylinders, possibly running
about a quart low. You’re a few fries
short of a Happy Meal, and your cheese might
have slipped off your cracker, but I love it
when you come around because if I stand
close enough to you I can hear the ocean.

@Home Studio – 170th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Bless Your Heart photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Laundry

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(Poem 169 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

The conundrum of laundry is constant
with eight people in the house every day.
Someone will forget to clean the dryer vent,
and for that a lecture will come my way.
Some use scents to make their clothing smell nice,
while others prefer unscented and pure.
Three different soaps add up to quite a price,
but it is worth it for peace, I am sure.
Sometimes a person forgets to unload
their washer or dryer causing dismay,
as others in line now find their turn slowed
and possibly pushed to another day.
Eventually, all laundry gets done;
clean clothes is the victory we have won.

@Home Studio – 169th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Laundry photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Hametsu

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(Poem 168 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/pnxfq2 https://gencraft.ai/p/oNLuGd https://gencraft.ai/p/TJyDtD

Four hunters arrive,
traversing a post-
apocalyptic scene
in feudal Japan.
Their stealth persists
until an enemy Oni
raises an alarm and
the hunters become
the hunted once again.
Each battle, skirmish,
and moment of hand-
to-hand combat brings
them closer to the
arrival of the boss,
a demon monster,
one of many unleashed
by The Cataclysm.
All that waits to be
seen, is who will be
the last one standing.

@Home Studio – 168th poem of the year (after playing with David, Lydia, and Charlotte)

Runner ups for the Hametsu photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Turtle in a Turtle Shell

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(Poem 167 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/xW7ThK

Maybe a turtle is in a turtle shell
much the way mice are in fur coats,
eels wear slick high-sheen leather,
and monsters live in skins of goats.

Stubborn dinosaurs wear emu feathers,
and goddess cats are draped in fluff.
Humans must don these hot meat suits,
while armadillos carry armor that’s rough.

Porcupines live inside costumes with spears
to protect like whales with the thickest skin.
It makes me wonder if the being we see
could be different from the soul within.

@Home Studio – 167th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Turtle photos to accompany my poem: