Rhymes, Rants & Accolades from North Central BC

Archive for April, 2014

April 28th Poem by Doris

Today’s prompt: to find a news article, and to write a poem using words from the article. [From article in Prince George Citizen. P. 8. April 28th]

Post -traumatic stress disorder,

A highly-stigmatized condition,

Suicides involving soldiers,

Of the Afghanistan mission.


They are taught to hide the pain,

Told to soldier on,

A counsellor had taught him,

How to let go – how to be calm.


“I tried to deal with it myself,

The most rattling memories,

Now I understand the symptoms,

From what happened overseas.


“I’ve learned to know the triggers,

To avoid and calm myself,

My wife – may God love her,

She said to me, ‘You need  help'”


You want to go back to being normal,

But you’ve changed to some degree,

You can’t undo the trauma,

From invisible injury.








April 27th Poem by Doris

Prompt: to write a poem from a featured photograph http://www.reenhead.com/baseball.JPG

A youthful ball-player named Brett

From Langley BC was beget

He joined the Blue Jays

Hitting balls quite a ways

Much to Boston Red Sox’s  regret!





April 26th Poem by Doris

Prompt: a curtal sonnet is shorter than a normal sonnet. It has a first stanza of six lines,followed by a second stanza of four, and then closes with a half-line.

Oh how I’d love to have a sleep-filled night,

For rested  mind;  blithe spirit; muscle strength,

A sleep of seven hours, or even more in length,

Oh how I’d love to lie in inert slumber,

No worries; aches or pains; no thoughts encumbered,

‘Til soft and gentle glow of morning light.


Instead I toss and turn and read while I’m awake,

Check my Facebook; email; puzzles on the go,

Bathroom jaunts occur each hour or so,

I should do some housework; make a pie or cake,

But I’m too tired.

April 25th Poem by Doris

Prompt: to use “anaphora” (repetitive wording) such as in Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech

“Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed…”

Music’s the language of the soul

Whether it be  Tchaikovsky

Hank Williams or

“Old Black Joe”


Music’s the language of the soul

reliving thoughts

and feelings

experienced long ago.


Music’s the language of the soul

lyrics and melodic


intricately enscrolled.


Music’s the language of the soul

Elvis Presley and

Michael Jackson

universally known.


Music’s the language of the soul

In  fellowship

we process

The language we all know.














April 24 Poem by Doris

Today’s prompt: I challenge you to write a poem that features walls, bricks, stones, arches, or the like.



Polished red bricks


the rustic decor of

my friend’s living room.

Bricks purchased during

that  fire sale of remnants,

from the Lejac Residential School

before they tore it down.

When memories were purged

but never erased

of incidents

occurring in

that beautiful  building.

Built in 1922 with

masonry from

a nearby brick mill.

A pastoral setting

along the

rock-strewn shoreline

of  Fraser Lake.

Built with the fervor

of love and devotion.

Plastered and paved

with the  best of


The last rays of

summer sunshine

reflecting off

the chapel


An inspiring gem

in the wilderness.








April 23rd Poem by Doris

Todays prompt was to attempt a translation of a poem written in a language of which I am unfamiliar. The following verses were written by my Facebook friend Yet Klare. The language is Dutch.

My translation is on the right. Yet posted a photo of a bird on her blog site  (That clued me in somewhat…) 

vandaag een specht op het gras              (What is that sprawled on the grass?)
voor mn huis                                                   (what is it?)
hij was dood                                                     (Hello, are you dead?)
tegen t raam gevlogen denk ik                  (You are such a pretty bird
toen ik boodschappen deed                       (You have a bright red head)
in smithers                                                        (In Smithers)
nek gebroken                                                   (Is where I found the bird)

in z’n door de rigor mortis                          (The bird is stiff from the cold)
verstijfde pootjes hield ie                            (I held her in my hand)
nog lange grassprieten vast                        (She was in a large grassy field)
wat was ie aan t doen                                     (What was she doing there?)
toen ie tegen mn raam vloog                       (Why was she there?)
waar vloog ie heen                                           (So sick and cold)
misschien was ie wel een nest                     ( Someone took her from her nest)
aan het bouwen                                                 (Made her fall to the ground)
het is tenslotte bijna lente                            (Her poor babies)
ook al zou je dat vandaag                              (Their mother is gone)
niet zeggen                                                           (So sad)

Correct translation received from my friend Yet Klare:

today a woodpecker on the grass
in front of my house
it was dead
flew against the window I think
while I was shopping for groceries
in Smithers
broken neck
in his stiff little legs
caused by rigor mortis
he still held
long pieces of grass
what was he doing
when he flew against my window?
where did he fly to
maybe he was building
a nest
after all
it is almost spring
although one wouldn’t say that

April 22nd Poem by Doris

Prompt: today, “I challenge you to write a poem for children”

For Taylor, my 3-year-old great-grandson, upon the birth of baby



Today was a day that was like no other

Cause somebody came and he was my brother

He’s pink and he’s squishy,  wrinkled and round,

Before he was born he made not a sound


But today when I saw him he hollered out loud

Me and my mommy and daddy are proud

I kissed him and hugged him. I think he likes me,

And I am so glad he’s  in my family!









April 20th Poem by Doris

Prompt for the day- “today I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of a member of your family.”

Hello there, my name is Isaac,

I’m five-years-old and I’m a prize act,

I love to shoot my plastic gun,

And with my brothers, we  have fun!


I pretend when I’m outside,

A lion comes and I can’t hide,

But with my plastic gun and knives,

They’re all I need to stay alive.


When Papa takes us camping out,

I love to catch a rainbow trout,

And when I grow as big as him,

I’ll shoot a moose right in the chin.


Although I’m strong and usually bold,

I am afraid  of folks who’re old,

The ones that live in tiny rooms,

Make me think of ghosts and ghouls.


But great-grand folk are not that scary,

I’m getting over being wary,

Although they’re old and talk quite funny,

They brought us each an Easter bunny!
































April 19th Poem by Doris

“Lazarus Jewel Box” is the name of a type of clam shell. Today’s prompt

 inspired me to write about the loss of  a few items from an earlier time.

I once had a shiny grey jewellry box

It was filigreed all over with a windmill on top

My dad was from Holland  so that may have been where

The pretty thing came from and been  mine to share.

But I lost it….


A diamond ring that was mine as a bride

Was too large for my finger but I wore it with pride.

It disappeared at a long-ago dance

For the person who found it- a luckier chance.

But I was devastated…


My first-born infant was given a pair

Of beaded moccassins, too big to wear

One ended up in the washing machine

The buckskin had shrunk to the size of a bean.

And my baby never got to wear them.


My mom-in-law made us a quilt – bless her heart

I  used it and washed it til it fell apart

I cannot remember if I put it away

But it’s gone and I wish we still had it today

Oh well,  it kept us warm when we needed it.



April 18th Poem by Doris

Today’s prompt was to compose  a ruba’i :  a four-line

stanza, with a rhyme scheme of AABA

We had eight children, my husband and me

He fathered five and I mothered three

We had our own when most others had grown

And grandchildren were entering the scene.

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