Poems written to daily prompts given by Robert Lee Brewer of writersdigest.com during the month of November 2017
Day 1 – A New Day Poem
A NEW DAY
“Today is the first day of the rest of my life”
is the phrase that I hold with me in times of strife.
Life is so very short and should be oh so sweet
so in times of trouble I always try to repeat:
“Today will be the first day of my brand new start”
and I face the challenge with a much lighter heart.
See Jezzie’s Poem in writersdigest.com
Day 2 – A Disguise Poem
TRYING TO DISGUISE MY SIZE
Fashion is not my main priority:
comfortable clothes mean much more to me.
I wear smart outfits that are nice and loose.
Skin tight trousers or skirts are just no use.
Most of my life I have tried to disguise
the fact that I’m nearly twice my right size.
I cannot lose weight – boy, how I have tried.
I walk everywhere, hardly ever ride.
I’ve given up wine and everything nice,
I eat small portions of pasta or rice,
I eat fish with just a couple of chips,
sweets and cream cakes don’t pass my lips.
I eat lots of veg and have fruit for pud
and only have foods that I know I should.
I’ve even reduced the size of my plate.
What else can I do to reduce my weight?
See Jezzie’s poem on writersdigest.com
Day 3 – A Triangle Poem
I
think
that the
best way to
write a poem
about a triangle
is to give it a shape
MY ODD-SHAPED GARDEN
My house sits on a sloping trapezium-shaped plot
but I’m trying to make the best of what I’ve got.
Nothing in my garden is square but I don’t care.
I just plant things in threes everywhere.
three
winter heathers
all grouped together
in an ornamental tricycle
three
pretty primrose
plants sit in neat rows
in three staggered rectangles
three
culinary herbs
are hardly ever disturbed
from their pots (half-hexagonal)
three
weird shaped plots:
one that’s hot, one that’s not
and one is my dog’s play area triangle
See Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 4 – Whosoever ….
WHOSOEVER LOVES THE PERSON THAT STOLE MY FLOWERS
I hope that your person brought my flowers home to you
Maybe you’ve been ill in bed for a week or two
and needed cheering up. Maybe you had the flu?
Or just maybe it could have been your birthday too.
Those flowers were a present planted on my birthday
by my daughter who emigrated far away,
blooming to remind me of her every day.
But now someone has taken all my blossoms away.
All passers by are welcome to enjoy my flowers.
They can smell their perfume as they pass by the bowers
but now there are none left in the garden of ours.
They were all stolen from me in the wee small hours.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 5 – A Self-Destruct Poem
A LARK IN THE PARK
I watch a baby blackbird digging under a shrub
unaware there’s a cat crouching in the bushes
and as the bird triumphantly gobbles its grub
out from the shrubbery the smug cat rushes.
The bird narrowly escapes the cat’s jaws and claws
and flies into the skies still carrying his prize
while the cat sits nonchalantly washing his paws
until something more sinister takes him by surprise.
With a bark my dog chases the cat all around
until it is cornered when the cat turns about.
The fearless feline ferociously stands his ground
and smartly smacks my dog’s sniffing snout.
Yes the bifocal bird bagged his breakfast and avoided abduction
but my dodgy doggy was hell-bent on self destruction.
My damaged doggy had just wanted a lark in the park
but that murderous moggy certainly left his mark!
Read Jezzies poem on writersdigest.com
Day 6 – A Praise Poem
IN PRAISE OF MY NEIGHBOURS
Who have to put up with my dog barking
whenever anyone moves past my house.
They usually try to creep about when she’s in
and even though they’re as quiet as a mouse
still she hears or possibly senses them
and what follows is absolute mayhem!
IN PRAISE OF:
My patient neighbour
who creeps quietly about
so my sensitive dog won’t bark
My lovely daughter
who comes here to help me out
and takes my dog for a walk
Her handy brother
whose strength I can’t do without,
and thanks to him my things work
My late dear mother
whom I take after, no doubt,
and to whom I still daily talk
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 7 – A Days of the Week (or Weak) Poem
BOREDOM
Monday to Friday my life is okay
there’s plenty to do here in U3A
but at weekends I’m bored, I have to say.
I wish I had someone with whom to play.
My kids live and work very far away
and can’t very often come here to stay.
Neighbours are out with families, I’d say,
so what’s this OAP to do all day?
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
ADJUSTING TO RETIREMENT
Monday – take dog to the park and amble
Tuesday – go for a bracing clifftop ramble
Wednesday – perhaps I’ll prepare a special nosh
Thursday – maybe I should do another wash
Friday – perhaps I should visit the local pub
I wonder if I could join a social club
Saturday – I really should mow the lawn
Sunday – I’m starting to wish I had never been born
Monday – mooch around the house like a slop
Tuesday – perhaps I should get a part-time job?
Wednesday – why don’t I go for a clifftop ramble?
Thursday – shall I go to the Casino and gamble?
Friday – another week over where did it go?
Saturday – I guess the lawn needs another mow
Sunday – oh what I’d give for a family roast
Monday – maybe I should just eat beans on toast
Tuesday – no clifftop walk today, it’s raining
Wednesday – just go out with the dog, stop complaining!
Thursday – take a drive in the car, not very far
Friday – go and get some shopping from Spar
Saturday – where does everyone go around here?
Sunday – they’re all having a better day than me, it’s clear!
Day 8 – A Thing Poem
ALL TO SEE AN OBELISK
I have just come home from a muddy hike
over ploughed up fields, through woods and the like
up hills, down dales and over 20 odd stiles,
we slithered and staggered several miles.
over humps, lumps and bumps, getting higher
slipping and sliding we trudged through the mire
near a coastal creek leading to the sea,
even hobbling with a creak in my left knee.
Had we taken all this risk
just to see an obelisk?
Then, homeward bound, we left the mound,
and for a while we walked on firmer ground.
We crossed the bridge and we were soon
enjoying the warm, sunny afternoon.
With creaking knees and aching feet,
the climb back home I did complete
mud spattered, bedraggled, worn and weary,
wondering how I still stayed cheery.
T’was a challenge for someone so unfit
but the thing is I was glad I did it.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 9 – “…………” if “…………….”
THEY WOULD IF SHE WOULD
On my walk round my estate today
we passed a house with two dogs at play.
As soon as they knew my dog was there
they both barked to warn us to beware.
Out came a woman shouting words I can’t repeat
you could hear her the rest of the way down the street.
“Shut the **** up!” “Shut the **** up!” again she cried.
“They would if you would” I would like to have replied!
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 10 – Going Somewhere
My dog needs her walk
but first I have got to write
my ode of the day
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
GOING NOWHERE GOING SOMEWHERE
“I’m going somewhere different by bus today.
I’ll walk the dog early then go there come what may.”
That’s plan A for me…
Living here, that’s not as easy as it may sound
with a two-hourly bus and a difficult hound.
Move on to plan B…
“I will drive somewhere by car, it needs a good run.”
Car will not start. I lose heart of having some fun.
Think of a plan C…
“I’ll munch a quick lunch then go for a clifftop walk.”
A salesman comes to call, another rings to talk.
Soon it’s time for tea…
Where on earth did today go?
I’ll try again tomorrow.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 11 – An Unlucky Poem
I had a win on the premium bonds
not a huge amount, just one hundred pounds.
I banked it and drew cash out the same day,
walked in the wind and it all blew away!
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
THE UNLUCKY ONE
I am thinking of my good friend today.
It would be her seventy-third birthday.
She was an ever-faithful, long-term wife
with a placid, uncomplicated life,
lots of grandkids, a close knit family,
she had few worries and lots of money.
How I used to envy her life of ease:
she could do everything herself to please,
go everywhere she could on holidays,
buy anything she liked to suit her ways,
She’d always lived a good life, as she ought.
She was one of the lucky ones, I thought.
But today I think of her with a tear.
Tragically she is no longer here.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 12 – A Transformative Poem
TRANSFORMATION
I once went out with a good looking man
who turned up late for our date in a skirt
I never had a flirt with him again
even when he wore his trousers and shirt.
This ex of mine found someone more his style.
I watched their relationship quickly bloom.
Very soon they were marching down the aisle,
he as the blushing bride, she as the groom.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 13 – A poem about a city
NORTHAMPTONSHIRE
Known as England’s Rose of the Shires,
a pretty county of spires and squires
with undulating hills, fields with crops,
sheep and cows seen over hedge tops,
cottages round their village green
with well kept gardens to be seen,
walks near rivers, canals or lakes
ending somewhere with tea and cakes,
fast roads to get from A-B
take you to towns where you can see
a wealth of history or art.
Being a country girl at heart
I don’t think that it’s a pity
Northamptonshire has no city.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Landfill City
Day 14 – A Sonnet
14 lines of iambic pentametre:-
abba,abba,cdec,de (Milton) or abab,cdcd,efef,gg (Shakespeare)
A BAD VERSE DAY
I am not sure I am in the right mood
to write a sonnet or a proper verse:
my muse has left me, my odes are not good,
my meter’s all wrong, my ideas are worse.
I’d too much to do: today I went out
with my social group, then I walked my dog
and it wasn’t long before time ran out
for me to do this poem-a-day slog.
But I don’t want to break the daily chain
although I’m running almost out of time
Maybe I’ll post this then I’ll try again
when I can think of a much better rhyme.
So forgive me if this is my worst day
I will try harder maybe Wednesday.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 15 – “Stranger ************”
STRANGER IN TOWN
A new house, new garden, a nice new view,
some new furniture, even new clothes too.
It’s new beginnings for me and my dog
but making some new friends sure is a slog!
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
STRANGER THAN IT SHOULD BE
How come when I was in full time work I had more time to do things than I have
now that I’m retired? Okay, so I’m less fit and move much slower than I used to,
and I’m quite tired. But that doesn’t really explain why each hour passes by so fast.
Soon as I’ve cleared up the house after breakfast I walk the dog in the park then it’s time for lunch. Soon after that it’s dark.
STRANGER BEINGS
“There’s nowt so queer as folk”
my grannie used to say
and the people that I meet
seem stranger every day.
But I’ve just been watching
Blue Planet on my T.V.
and there are beings much stranger
at the bottom of the sea.
Day 16 – A poem to the world
DEAR WORLD
We won’t be here for long, so enjoy life while you can
but try hard to replace what has been taken by man
and leave things to be enjoyed by new generations,
keep good friends close, avoid conflict with other nations.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 17 – “What I meant to say” poem
MANNERS
When I said “Excuse me!”
when the driver rudely parked
his car across the footpath
just where I was walking my dog,
what I meant to say was
“Excuse your ill manners!”
But he ignored me anyway
as if we weren’t even there
and he owned the world.
When I said “I’m sorry!”
when a man bumped his trolley
into mine, stationary at the time,
what I meant to say was
“Can’t you be more careful?”
but he just marched on
oblivious to the fact that
my leg had been bruised.
I doubt he’d even care.
in his own little world.
When I said “I beg your pardon?”
because I could actually hear
the swear words uttered to me,
when I reprimanded some children
who were destroying the shrubs
in my beautiful front garden,
what I meant to say was
“You should beg my pardon!”
But they would just have ignored
anything that I would say.
It’s an ill-mannered world.
MANNERS
“Excuse me!” I said.
“Where are your manners!” I meant
when you rudely blocked my way.
“I’m sorry!” I said.
“You bumped into me, idiot!” I meant
when your trolley hit my knee.
“I beg your pardon?” I said
but what I should have said was
“Don’t you dare swear at me!”
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 18 – A good for nothing poem
A GOOD FOR NOTHING POEM
There’s nothing good
about my poems
except that they rhyme.
Probably I
could improve them
if I’d enough time.
New thoughts fly out
of the open
window in my brain
when I go back
to look at my
old verses again.
So for now I’ll
just sit and pen
good for nothing odes
before my brain
fills up with more
info and explodes.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 19 – an Abundance poem
WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE
It is abundantly clear
we have had our fair share here
of heavy rainfall this year
but I really do not care
that there’s water everywhere
while I sit indoors and stare
at my new garden with pride
or at ducks that come to glide
on the wildlife pond outside.
Drier days I can have fun
taking my dog for a run,
enjoying sea breeze and sun,
gazing at waves on the sea
high up on cliffs in Newquay.
I count myself as lucky:
I’ve had the sense to retire
and I’ll never, ever tire
of the sea views I admire.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 20 – A “What I Learned Poem
MEMORY
What I leaned when I was young
seems to stay with me forever
but can I remember
what I learned yesterday?
Never!
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
WHAT I LEARNED IN SCHOOL
Why on Earth do we learn algebra in our schools?
I can accept we need some geometry rules
and I’ve used them a little in my life, I’d say,
but I’ve never used algebra until this day.
I’ve made use of Pythagorus on occasion
but what is the use of a quadratic equation?
Geography, biology I gladly learned
but physics and (yuk) chemistry lessons I spurned,
languages were useful but those I rarely speak
‘cept for English, of course, in that I’m not so weak.
I learned lots. Did I use that knowledge in my life?
I was never taught how to be mother and wife.
But I was good at maths which served me very well
in my career, it helped my bank account to swell
but I wish I had learned more useful things in class
like how to bring up kids or how to mow my grass
or how to deal with awkward people that I’d meet
or how to stand up in life on my own two feet.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 21 – a Construction and/or a Deconstruction poem
BAKE OFF
Two hours of preparation
a masterpiece to bake.
Two over-critical judges in
two minutes demolish the cake.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 22 – a “——– Day” poem
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES
Under the cliffs and down on the sand,
round the harbour and up on the strand,
yesterday I was out walking with my crowd
listening to seagulls screaming loud.
The weather was mild, there was a gentle breeze
and we could sea seals playing in the seas.
Today on my dog walk I hurried round
as raindrops started falling to the ground,
Tall trees are swaying in the gales
and my plants are blowing about like sails.
Now it’s bucketing down with rain
and I’m confined to quarters again.
Day 23 – A “Preface” Poem
NOVEMBER POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE
I have written an ode each day:
they do not have much of a theme
but sometimes, I really must say,
my poems may seem quite extreme.
They seem to be all about me
or things that happen in my life
or of my time spent by the sea
or of events that give me strife.
But my words spill out from my heart:
forgetting to consult my head
my verses do not turn out that smart
but a little humorous instead.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 24 – How I’ll be remembered
HOW WILL I BE REMEMBERED?
If my good friends were to outlive me
I’d be remembered as the one
who always had a cheery smile.
If my bosses were to outlive me
I’d be remembered as the one
who always went the extra mile.
If my walking friends outlive me
I’ll be remembered as the one
who hated climbing over stiles.
If my dog were to outlive me
I’d be remembered as the one
who daily used to walk her miles.
If U3A club members outlive me
I’d be remembered as the one
who used to write blogs and poetry.
I hope my kids will outlive me
and remember me as the mum
who guides them still where’er they may be.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 25 – A Remix of a previous poem
IN PRAISE OF, DESPITE:
My patient neighbour
who creeps quietly about
so my sensitive dog won’t bark
although he blocks my gateway to the car park
My lovely daughter
who comes here to help me out
and takes my dog for a walk
but how I wish I could get a word in when we talk
Her handy brother
whose strength I can’t do without,
and thanks to him my things work
but his untidiness, boy how that does irk
My late dear mother
whom I take after, no doubt,
and to whom I still daily chat
despite how we used to argue like dog and cat
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Day 26 – a “Shine” poem
THE BRIGHTEST STAR
The brightest star in the sky that shines just for me
is probably where I would like to be
when I leave this mortal planet,
although I doubt anyone could ever plan it.
I first noticed this star when my dad passed away.
“Did his soul go there?” I used to say.
Then it shone brightly again when my mum died.
“They’re together again now!” I cried.
Once more that bright star beckoned to me
when my beloved dog’s soul was set free,
but when her canine twin sister joined her
amazingly shone twin stars Pollux and Castor.
Right next to my bright star they were:
my dogs being guarded by Father and Mother.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 27 – “(Blank) of (blank)”
LIFE OF LEISURE
How I wished for a day all to myself
when working full time with a family.
To sleep late would be enough in itself
with a bit of time to look after me.
Be very careful what you wish for though:
retirement comes much sooner than you know.
Now I wish for something useful to do
other than sleep late, write a bit and play.
These days I say when I feel a bit blue
“What on Earth can I do to fill this day?”
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 28 – A Love and/or Anti-Love Poem
LOVE IS JUST A PING-PONG GAME
“Love hurts, love scars,
Love wounds and marks“
When your love gets thrown back into your face,
what else can you do but try it again?
For richer, for poorer, we should cherish
in sickness and health, in sunshine and rain.
But when your erstwhile love starts wearing thin
and love’s become just a cruel ping-pong game
or a fight that you cannot hope to win,
should we still cherish each other the same?
Two embittered people, two shattered lives
more, for children are badly affected too
by betraying husbands or battered wives.
Isn’t it time to quit and start anew?
Love comes, love flows,
love turns, love goes.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 27 – A response poem
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES
Yesterday my beloved cellphone dropped onto my dog’s cushion.
It was no good to me after that, having a screen with no vision.
Nothing daunted I found my old abandoned phone and turned it on
Surprisingly all my contacts information and photos had not gone.
Today I got on a bus into town, hoping to get my phone repaired
taking my old phone too for emergency calls in case I got scared.
I was told due to damage to the screen my warranty was void
and I would have to buy a new one, again. Yet another android!
But they also managed to persuade me my contract to upgrade,
at slightly more than double the price I had previously paid
with a better phone, better camera, unlimited talk time and texts,
two gig instead of 300 meg of internet. How could I resist?
With all this free talk time I can get rid of my home phone.
That will help to pay the increase in my
All these added extras AND I got a brand new tablet thrown in.
My damaged old pretty useless phone went in the recycling bin.
Now I have a better phone but I am poor. But you can be sure
that with covers I won’t worry about dropping my phone any more.
I have done whatever it takes to insure I get no more screen breaks.
I have learned by my mistakes. What a difference a day makes.
NO RESPONSE
The phone rings. I ease myself out of my comfy chair.
but when I pick up the phone there is no-one there.
The phone rings again. I tear myself away from my work
but when I answer it’s not to me they want to talk
or it’s someone who wants to help me claim PPI
or it’s about the accident I had recently. Did I? No not I.
Or else they’ll say there’s something wrong
with my internet. Now I know that is a con.
If they get no response they’ll try again another day
so what on earth can I do to make them go away?
When I ring someone all I get is a mechanical voice
listing what I might have rung for and it’s my choice
of numbers to press to get to speak to someone
but then do I get to connect with an actual person?
No, I’m given a whole lot of other options I should try.
“I just want to speak to a human being!” I cry.
I slam the phone down and use the internet instead
thinking that I might just as well have stayed in bed.
To prevent all this aggro to which I am subjected
I’m now thinking of having my phone disconnected.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
Day 30 – “Back in the day” poem
THOSE WERE THE DAYS
Back in the good old bad old days
we lived our lives in very different ways.
We had no central heating, no air con,
we had no tv or radios to turn on.
We played 78’s on a wind up gramophone,
no cellphone, we were lucky if we’d a telephone.
No fridge, no washing machine, just a copper
in which to boil our clothes, if we used it proper.
No spin drier: we used a mangle of course
and we aired our washing on a wooden horse
in front of a roaring fire with a back boiler
to heat our once-per-week bath water.
We had no car, we used bus, tram or train
or walked everywhere, even in pouring rain.
Meals were simple: fruit, potatoes, veg and meat
we never had anything fancy to eat.
We wore jumpers our mothers would knit
but we were warm, healthy and very fit.
Obesity hadn’t been invented, nor had greed.
yet we seemed to have everything we’d need,
I wouldn’t want to go back to the good old days
but I think that they are very deserving of praise.
I need mod cons and technology, excess of it,
I’m happier now though lazier, fatter and less fit.
Read Jezzie’s poem at writersdigest.com
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