Day 10   Prompt: Future, Form: Sonnet, Device: Chiasmus

I haven’t managed to fit in any word reversals but in a way I feel the whole poem covers a reversal so that’s my compromise.


Earth to Earth

The land has suffered from man’s greed

Upturned, denuded ground

No respect for Mother Nature

Just took whate’er they found

But all too soon the day will come

When Earth’s no place to be

For those who live the high-tech life

And elsewhere they will flee


But those who live a simple life

Will tend the Earth again

Enrich her soil, embrace her sun

Cherish her blessed rain.


Day 9: Prompt: Landscape, Form: Found Poetry, Device: Enumeratio

The Mitcham council area is divided roughly into the hills and plains. Both areas have many street trees but the hills area is characterized by dense sections of trees and shrubs. Feral Olives are a pest in some parts, covering the hillsides. Their thick leaf coverings disguise the damage they cause in gullies. Feral Olives create a serious fire risk. The trees burn ferociously and destroy the shelter provided by native plants to birds and other animals. Lorikeets, Wattlebirds, Magpies and Currawongs are all found in the Mitcham hills.

Residents are discouraged from removing spiky, native shrubs such as Kangaroo Thorn as these protect smaller birds such as Wrens, Spinebills,  Silvereyes  and.Pardalotes

Grey Box Trees, although not considered as attractive as some other species of Eucalypts, sustain many Koalas and residents must seek council approval before removing any of these Trees.


Ode to the Walkman

Day 8: Prompt: Drawer, Form: Ode, Device: Apostrophe


Left in the drawer, untouched for years

Seeing you now, memory clears.

Your whirr going forward, your whirr going back

The click of your button, stopped in your track.

The tangle of tape when things went wrong,

Feeding back in that took so long.


Oh! The freedom, your small size gave

And pleasure felt, hearing friends rave.

The joy you brought, wonderful sound

Modern marvel, technology found.

First of your kind, you led the way

Others to follow, to have their day.


Lie in the drawer, no need to fear.

No trashcan for you, you are too dear.


Day 7 Prompt: Fingers, Form: Prose, Device: Assonance

No assonance in this one.


Sideways glances.

 Watch the fingers flying.

 Quick looks at the sound of a laugh.

How can that mean anything?

In the silence there is happiness.

Friends reunited.

Ignoring the stares of curious strangers.

Exploits and confidences shared.

Concerns conveyed.

Relaxed, happy.

Relishing the company and conversation.

So much expression and meaning those wonderful fingers convey.

It’s music for the soul.


No fingers but a little assonance in this one:

How can we make it

Sound the same

When our accents

Are all different?

The Roman Candle

Day 6: Prompt – Hero, Form – Ballad, Device – anaphora (a-NAH-fra) and epistrophe (eh-PIS-tro-fee)



Dad wasn’t afraid of good hard work,

He wasn’t one to laze and shirk


The weeds were long, the job was hard,

Desire not strong, to weed  the yard,

A fire could burn it all so quick,

A lot can happen with one match flick!


Dad wasn’t afraid of good hard work,

He wasn’t one to laze and shirk


Killed with heat, the grass was dead,

Area neat everyone said.

Until night came, out of the tree

A raging flame, we all could see.


Dad wasn’t afraid of good hard work,

He wasn’t one to laze and shirk


The fireman came, the fire put out,

Who was to blame? There was some doubt.

So off they went into the night,

Charging none for the Candle light.

The Biggest Tool in the Shed

Sometimes a person will appear,

And drastic changes make

At first their motives are not clear,

We hope pure, for our sake

But here in OZ we’ve struck out bad

Our leader just a tool

Though there are times I think he’s mad

At best a stupid fool.

When he’s the one who calls the shots

You’d better not be poor

He’s on the side of those with lots

The rest are just a bore

He thinks our climate is just fine,

No probs with the gases

Just keep digging your lovely mine

Ignore the dumb masses

And if by chance you’re in the clink

On some far foreign shore

I’m sorry, mate, but we all think

He’s done you in for sure!


Writing 210 Challenge, Day 5.  Word:Fog, Style: Elergy, Device:Metaphor

Originally requiring specific meters, nowadays elegies come in all shapes and sizes, though they are united by their (often melancholic) focus on loss and longing.

Today’s form, the elegy, can trace its history all the way to ancient Greece. It started out as a poem that could be about almost any topic, as long as it was written in elegiac couplets (pairs of verse, with the first one slightly longer than the second). Over the centuries, though, it became something a bit more specific: a (more often than not) first-person poem on themes of longing, loss, and mourning.



When I could come and

I could go

When every movement

Wasn’t slow

When still alive I had

A friend

And never thought of

Journey’s end

When I decided who

I’d meet

Or simply what I’d have

To eat

When choices made were

Always mine

When I decided what

Was fine

I was an eagle

Soaring free

And no one tried to

Limit me

Now age has taken that


And in this place I’m doomed

To stay

My thoughts float through

A Fog of time

From dark, dark days to

Times sublime

Scrambled and mangled I don’t

Really care

Because in all the muddle

Freedom is there.