Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #489: Death

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Cocoa Beach, FL – Chocolate, the delight of the world, passed away in her adopted hometown of Cocoa Beach on Sunday, September 4, 2050, to global warming/cooling on what would’ve been National Chocolate Day.

Born in Mesoamerica in 450 B.C., she went through many men, where she was mixed and molded to fit their flavor and image, and, at any given time, has been Belgian, Dutch, and Swiss (among others), and been known as Dove, Godiva, and Ghirardelli (among others).

Chocolate was beloved by the world; even those who were allergic often longed for her.  She enjoyed a variety of forms and fillings–ranging from bars and truffles to caramel and nuts.  She loved being wrapped and boxed and paired with strawberries and red wine; her favorite, however, was being melted and running through fountains at special events and fondue nights where she covered a variety of subjects.

Sometimes she was naughty, serving as the third component of a ménage à trois; sometimes she was nice, surprising children as a chocolate bunny in their Easter baskets.

She was every girl’s best friend during PMS and was often the peacemaker after a domestic spat.  She was the muse of numerous culinary artists and women authors.

Most of all, she was the only form of guaranteed pleasure for women.

She will be remembered for her versatility and ability to make every get-together better.  Though she felt overexposed at times, especially when it came to breakfast cereals, she was happy to make life sweeter wherever she could.

Chocolate is survived by White Chocolate, her frenemy of many years with whom she has not known to have collaborated with on any candy bar, though they have, much to their chagrin, been lumped into the same batch of cookies.  Chocolate is also survived by her numerous aficionados, many of whom will be turning to cheap alcohol and mediocre sex in her absence.

Visitation will be at 2:00 p.m. on Tuesday, September 6, 2050, with a celebration of life memorial service immediately following the visitation at 3:00 p.m. at Divinity Chapel, 6969 Heaven Hwy., Cocoa Beach, FL.

In lieu of edible flowers, memorial donations may be made to the Warhol Campbell Soup Kitchen.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 489

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Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #410: Weather

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There is No Y in Nature

For there were some who said
it was the wrath of God,
others, climate change;
still others saw nature as
chaotic
as the world itself,
and to them,
a storm was just a storm.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-410

 

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #373; Theme: Card

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Pinky Tale Creations

Pinky Tickles penned greetings for anonymous givers—
cards for every anni, quarrel and bicker—
cards for divorces and broken engagements,
for the neutralizing of toxic friendships,
and friends-with-benefits relationships.

There were cards for congrats
on being canned like a tuna,
or sacked like a potato chip;
for being kicked to the curb
by roommates growing herbs.

There were cards for bad bosses,
“You’re welcome” cards and “Sorry…not!”;
for unhappy birthdays and ugly afterthoughts.

There were unsympathy cards for deadbeat dads and
“Don’t Get Well” cards for mommy dearests;
“Happy Lonely Valentine’s” days,
“Santa Hates You” Christmases,
and “Thank You for Climate Change”,
for those who fired up the works on Independence Day.

Pinky was a minus sign in a plus-sized biz suit—
a fractious little number—
but the day she finally got some shag,
her heart bloomed into a redrum rose and
her words became sweet as a lollipop gag.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-373

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #348, Theme: When Everything Goes

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When Winter Became a Memory

Sometime in the latter half of the Third Millennium,
the atmosphere warmed so that snow no longer fell,
and ice formed only in man-made freezers.

There was no more skiing,
or blizzards,
or ice skating on a pond.
Trips to tropical paradises
were no longer game show prizes,
for Scandinavia enjoyed endless summers.

Sweaters and socks had been replaced with
swimsuits and sandals,
and outdoor activity ceased
between the hours of ten till four.

Some would sleep then,
for the night would be cooler—
lit up like that particle of time
when a lightning bolt strikes,
illuminating the moon-dark.

Timeless was the ice cream cone,
now enjoyed indoors;
endless, the dawn of night chores.

The earth did not become a desert,
for as slowly as it had evolved
through human intervention,
it stopped via the same route.

The air did not so much stir as hovered,
like a hummingbird over hollyhocks.
The waters of the ocean were warm,
and stepping into the pulsing foam,
was like stepping into a lukewarm bubble bath.

The raw, masculine energy of the sun
fueled the livelihood of the planet’s inhabitants,
so that life did not cease,
for what was life without work?

Stables became comfortable places
for humans without homes to stay;
fireplaces had become hiding places.
Athletic stadiums had become like
The Colosseum,
for even the night was too warm for
such strenuous activity.

Mother Earth, like a woman in menopause,
was going through The Change,
but The Change would not last forever.
Solar energy was like the hormones,
regulating Her body—
a temple not of doom,
but a temple of hope for the future
of the nature
of humankind.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-348

Poem-a-Day Writer’s Digest Challenge #4. Theme: Once Upon a (blank)

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Once Upon The Starry Night

In Christina’s World many moons ago,
there lived a girl by the name of Mona Lisa.
Mona Lisa was born of The Kiss,
in a pond of Water Lilies—
a pure birth—
and so much was made of her being the Goddess
in the Flesh.

Mona Lisa possessed the Persistence of Memory—
time was made fluid.
Through her marriage to Father Time,
she became Mother Earth,
birthing a biological clock that never stopped ticking.

Three Musicians came from the West
in that period
since The Creation of Adam
proclaiming another Savior,
but Mona Lisa,
enraged,
waged a war on men.

Through man-made climate change,
through wars and rumors of wars,
she turned her world into a ruin,
for there were no more men to provide
for the women—
there were only vessels,
but no seed to plant in them.

Father Time,
seeing the rapid decay,
sent her away;
for Time took its time,
allowing the natural order of things.

Father Time turned her into a rapidly aging man,
so that her days would not be long upon the Earth,
and she was exiled to Golgotha
for her crimes against humanity.

And twas at The Last Supper,
that Mona Lisa knew He was the One—
that no power on Earth came to any
but through Him.
He had allowed her to carry out His work,
for wicked had been her people,
but now she had to pay as Judas.

There were The Three Crosses—
one for Him,
one for another,
one for her.
She was that other robber,
for she’d robbed others of breath.

But in His infinite mercy,
God chose to use her once again,
and turned her into the moon—
the moon that glowed,
rather than the sun that burned.
She was known from then on
as The Girl with the Pearl Earring—
a nameless being—
for eternity.

She is the demon that has control over the waters,
and when her anger is kindled,
there is a tidal wave of environmental calamity—
causing a form of mass baptism.

However, from then on,
Nature itself—
no superpower in Heaven or on Earth—
would ever control the weather,
for the rain falls on the just and the unjust.