ROSIE #AtoZChallenge

Today is Poetry Friday and it is a FULL post today, full to the brim!  When you have finished here, there are wonderful blogs full of poems to visit.  Visit Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference where there are links to lots!

Today is the 21st line in the Progressive Poem initiated by Irene Latham!  And it is here - 
along with my AtoZ below.  Scroll down to the license plate if you are here for AtoZ and/or if you want to skip this growing poem instigated by Irene Latham for National Poetry Month. 

But why would you?  
You are here because you like writing and writers and stuff they write, right?  
So you should read it before you go on to the AtoZ Maine vanity plate and poem.  
One poet a day adds a line to the poem.  In the side navigation you can see a list of line contributing poets. 

Today the poem was handed to me for the next line.  
But a couple of days before my line I was scribbling words and phrases thinking maybe, just maybe I could use some of what I'd thought about, and maybe by chance it would save me time and thinking when I would be under pressure.  It didn't really work, but it was a good warn-up.

When BJ supplied her line, "trip" was the connecting word I had used in some of my lines.  Nope.  Couldn't use "trip" for the "-ip" internal rhyme...but it did lead nicely into using "ship" which is definitely a good way to take a trip to escape the grip of Dragonworld!

The navigation on the sidebar has all the poets with links to their sites.
Here is the poem thus far (Don't you love the sound of "thus far"? I do, too!) and my new line is last in bold: 

Progressive Poem 2017

I’m fidget, friction, ragged edges--

I sprout stories that frazzle-dazzle,

stories of castles, of fires that crackle

with dragonwords that smoke and sizzle.
 


But edges sometimes need sandpaper,

like swords need stone and clouds need vapour.

So I shimmy out of my spurs and armour

facing the day as my fickle, freckled self.
 


I thread the crowd, wear freedom in my smile,

and warm to the coals of conversation.

Enticed to the stage by strands of story,

I skip up the stairs in anticipation.
 


Flip around, face the crowd, and freeze!

Shiver me. Look who’s here. Must I disappear?

By hook or by crook, I deserve a second look!

I cheer. Please, have no fear. Find the book.
 


But wait! I’ll share the lines I know by heart.

Mythicalhowls, fierytones slip from my lip

Blue scales flash, claws rip, the prophecy begins

Dragonworld weaves webs that grip. I take a trip…


"Anchors aweigh!" Steadfast at helm on clipper ship


Then take a look here - for interest's sake, I found the poem to be easily broken down into 9 lines in each stanza, making it quite "prettily poetic"!  See what you think of breaking it up thusly (not a good word, but fun).

I just found this today, hanging in a bookstore!  Isn't it gorgeous?

Progressive Poem 2017 (possible alternate layout?)

I’m fidget,
friction,
ragged edges;
I sprout stories
that frazzle-dazzle;
stories of castles,
of fires that crackle,
with dragonwords that smoke
and sizzle.

But edges sometimes 

need sandpaper,
like swords need stone
and clouds need vapour;
So I shimmy out 

of my spurs and armour,
facing the day
as my fickle,
freckled self.

I thread the crowd,
wear freedom
in my smile,
and warm to the coals
of conversation;
Enticed to the stage
by strands of story,
I skip up the stairs
in anticipation.

Flip around, face the crowd,
and freeze!
Shiver me. Look who’s here.
Must I disappear?
By hook or by crook,
I deserve a second look!
I cheer.
Please, have no fear.
Find the book.

But wait!
I’ll share the lines
I know by heart.
Mythicalhowls, fierytones
slip from my lips;
Blue scales flash, claws rip,
the prophecy begins;
Dragonworld weaves webs that grip.
I take a trip;

"Anchors aweigh!" 

Steadfast at helm 

on clipper ship

Take it away, sail on Jone at Jone Ruch MacCulloch, the next line is YOURS!  Oh, phew!  Let's get this puzzle solved.

 **************************

Now the A to Z Challenge -  

 
The A to Z Challenge is to write to the letters of the alphabet in order, one a day each day in April, except on Sundays.
To find more A to Z Challenge blog posts, click on any A to Z Challenge link I've made in this post. Read through the comment links on that page and see what interests you.  Read.  Comment. Spread the love of our alphabet around!
If you are commenting here, please include your post's link so that I can return the visit easily.  I'd like to visit your site, if you don't mind!
If you want to see where I've visited, click on A to Z Challenge in the tab at the top and it will take you to a padlet of links.  If you want to see yours there, visit me.  If you are doing the A to Z Challenge, I'll visit you and link you. 

My rose smells the pink skies,
Rock beaches and sands,
The salt of the sea,
Seaweed’s tangled strands.
My rose hears the roaring
And crashing of waves,
The chorus of laughing gulls
Devout fishing knaves.
My rose though as fragile
As tatted French lace,
Its petals surround
Giving bees an embrace.
My rose owns a sweetness -
The lightest bouquet,
Heavenly nectar
To carry away;
My rose with the softness
of breezes adorning,
Callously stings
Without any warning.
Too soon she is gone
Leaving hips for my tea
And promise of new blooms
To smile upon me.

by Donna JT Smith

Congratulations on making it to the bottom of this page!

Tomorrow is S in the A to Z Challenge... I have a few vanity plates to select from... let's see.

Solitude or Loneliness, Who Cares Which?

It's Poetry Friday and hosted by someone I like to think of as a friend that I have never met but feel like I know - Linda Baie at Teacherdance.  If you don't know Linda yet, go there to meet her and make a new friend!  Oh, and find more poetry linkups there, too.
Additionally, on Wednesday the new Poetry Jam prompt was issued... "Write about loneliness or solitude."  I have written a poem to address the issue.

Solitude or Loneliness, Who Cares Which?

I’m all alone at home again
I’m writing, and I’ve
tried
to ignore the constant scuffling
of two dogs by my
side,
and then there is the white cat
being obviously
denied
access to his sleeping place
and where he likes to
hide.
Oh, I talk to them - they listen with
their heads cocked to one
side.
So if I say I’m lonesome
I'd have have to say I’ve
lied.
My days are not my own,
I could use some
solitude.
Can't say that I don't like my pets;
I'd never be that
rude,
But when I try to gather thoughts
they carelessly
intrude,
And all my writings and my dreams
seem to be pet
imbued.
Solitude or loneliness -
oh, does it matter
which?
I think that either one might
surely cure me of this
twitch.
But then of course I’d lack excuse
for a poetic
glitch.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015