This week let’s write an “on the sidelines” poem. It’s a sports idiom but I think the meaning is obvious even to those who have no interest in sports. Write a poem about someone or something that stays on the sidelines during a conflict then post your score in the comments below.
Living Poetry 
test reply #2
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Posted by ts19page | January 14, 2023, 6:55 PMHarmatia and Original sin
Though it is less original,
missing the mark on virtue,
Harmatia is a first class literary
device, a tool,
To show the pathos of the mis-guided
man, or the woman whose beauty
become an arrow in the heart of her,
She who seemed to all, an invitation to
desire.
Old beauties reconnoiter
the retirement village
Where sure enough, one waits
for perfectly aligned eyes and
flawless skin
wrinkled but still luminous
And what old man would not like
to sit watching TV at night
with her and her reckless past,
while lovers kiss on screen
and he can almost feel a memory of delight?
He laughs best who laughs last,
she is the punchline of all his final
dramatic, climatic, repasts.
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Posted by ts19page | January 13, 2023, 10:57 AMNetflix and chill is wasted on the young. Nicely done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | January 13, 2023, 7:12 PMPopcorn, the screen, and love…winter survival.
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Posted by ts19page | January 14, 2023, 9:48 AMI am sorry, I I tended to write a poem, but it turned into a micro story.
http://flickerofthoughts.com/2023/01/10/family/
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | January 10, 2023, 6:53 AMA beautiful photo to accompany an intricate story of love and loss.
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Posted by ts19page | January 10, 2023, 4:54 PMSometimes art takes us to unexpected places. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | January 10, 2023, 5:56 PMI sat on the curb
when my brother learned to ride
training wheels off
flying down the road
“Why can’t I try”
“Your too young to learn to ride”
“When you are older I let you
Then you can fly”
In my teens I didn’t make the first cut
In my twenties everyone loved “Thirtysomething”
In my thirties “Friends” was all the rage
In my forties I was too green to be in the C-suite
In my fifties they all wanted a youthful fresh perspective
In my sixties I sat waiting for an emergency room bed to free up
In my seventies I watched the clock for meals to be served down the hall
In my eighties I saw my friends go to the front of the line
When the coach finally calls
and I am put in to play
I will know how to sing the part
of a chorus member, not the lead
That role is already taken
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Posted by Chris Clarke | January 9, 2023, 11:46 PMThe entire poem echoes the prompt, through and through.
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | January 10, 2023, 6:54 AMThanks! That was the intent! I’ve several people assume it’s auto-biographical; it is a work of fiction, meant to achieve the goal of the prompt (although I was the hospital for a week a couple of montha go had did indeed wait 23.5 hours for bed in the ER)
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Posted by Chris Clarke | January 10, 2023, 11:15 PMI gathered it was a fiction mixed with a bit of personal experience. Wow that’s a century of waiting – almost a full day in the ER. I hope you got the medication attention you needed in the end.
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | January 11, 2023, 1:15 AMSad, but then again being first in line might be overrated. I think you mean ‘you’re’ in the 6th line instead of ‘your’.. -S.
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Posted by ts19page | January 10, 2023, 4:44 PMThank you for the comment and the correction! Spell check… grumple grumple grumple… : )
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Posted by Chris Clarke | January 10, 2023, 10:53 PMSad. Maybe the grim reaper will overlook this poor fellow too.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | January 10, 2023, 5:53 PM