This week let’s write a poem with the words condition, gratitude and regular in it. This is another of those prompts where I (somewhat) randomly choose three words from a list of the top 1000 words in the English language plus a few of my favorites. Post your poems in the comments below.
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Living Poetry 
Regular condolences sweep in
brushing past all grieving hearts
Fake sad smiles of unfelt gratitude
acquired in living, these social arts
of conditioned sentimental acrobatics
in practised lines, rehearsed parts…
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 22, 2022, 3:15 AMLovely poetry though sad. Thanks for sharing!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 22, 2022, 7:11 PMIt is sad, I agree. Had a run of bad news streaming on since after Diwali!
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 22, 2022, 7:27 PMAt the risk of adding to the conditioned sentimental acrobatics, you have my sympathy.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 22, 2022, 7:30 PMThank you Bart! There’s one thing I know…when writers or poets express a sentiment, they also live it even if for a small while. I know that sympathy that comes from a writer’s words is sincere. Means much.
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 22, 2022, 7:33 PMThe Sin of Lukewarm
She got up, though dreams trailed,
web-like gray as morning.
She would have liked
to bump, half-conscious
from sleep to part-sleep
back to muffled dream
ending up gradually
in evening.
That the burning
inadequacies
would not be there
to condition the rising sun
Hoping
without return of reason
that gratitude
would come to soothe,
with no coaxing,
but with remembrance
for reasons to be glad,
That reproach with its ticking
clock its confounded regularity
would wait,
until shouldering
into consciousness
a memory of virtue could catch up,
Would bring comfort, large lapped enough
and plush, to soothe
the inadequate heart,
holding it counter to insignificance,
against this frail failure –
that was yet lurid
in the waking glare of morning.
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Posted by ts19page | November 23, 2022, 10:45 AMLove the web-like gray dreams and the clock’s confounded regularity. Great work!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 23, 2022, 7:07 PMThank you, Bartholomew!
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Posted by ts19page | November 24, 2022, 11:36 AMYou have a condition
The good news:
You will die with it,
not from it
Most likely
I wanted to be regular girl
And mostly have been
I should have more gratitude
But don’t
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Posted by Second Act Blogger | November 25, 2022, 10:26 PMNice work! Love the honesty at the end.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 26, 2022, 5:18 AMThis really sums up so much of life, especially the latter part of life. I like the punch at the end!
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Posted by ts19page | November 26, 2022, 10:50 AMThank you. My Catholic guilt thinks I need to confess that sentiment. it is both in my thoughts and in my words
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Posted by Second Act Blogger | November 26, 2022, 11:26 AMConfession does seem to lie at the root of poetry.
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Posted by ts19page | November 26, 2022, 12:59 PM🙏
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Posted by Second Act Blogger | November 26, 2022, 8:52 AM