These are the prompts - (if you feel like hopping aboard, post your poem and copy and paste your link into Dana's comments. Or if you don't, please check out the other tickets proffered.)
1) Now, you might not be a religious person, but I'm sure that even so you have wanted to argue with God (or Allah or the sun or your own super ego) in some manner. If you choose this prompt I'd like you to tell us about that argument.
2) Write about the place you dream of living someday. Or if you're lucky enough to already live there write about home.
3) Write about leafless trees.
Okay, number two is out. I don't want to live anywhere. I'm just putting in my time before the flames of hell engulf me.
So, for my ticket this week I offer two poems - one about arguing with God, the other about a leafless tree.
“Why can’t we have wings,” said Billy to God,
“The freedom to soar through the air?
It takes oh, so long when you’re walking along,
It takes ages to get anywhere.”
“Why can’t we have screws,” said Billy to God,
“To open our chests when we please?
By looking inside, it would be a great stride
In the fight against pain and disease.”
“Why can’t we have fur,” said Billy to God,
“It would help to protect us from cold.
Just think of the cost of the body heat lost
For the poor and the sick and the old.”
“Just think of the time,” said Billy to God,
“That we humans spend sleeping and dozing.
Think what we could do, if we did not have to
Waste hours inert and reposing.”
“Why must we have teeth,” said Billy to God,
“That hurt us from cradle to grave?
Were they made of steel, how much better we’d feel!
Just think of the toothaches we’d save.”
“Why don’t we have minds,” said Billy to God,
“To remember the things that we learn?
It's a nuisance to look for some paper or book -
Why can't we have brain cells to burn?”
At length came a moan like a roaring cyclone,
And God gave his answer to Billy: -
“I’m sick of your questions and clever suggestions.
Now, feck off, and stop being silly.”
One yellow leaf
Clinging tightly to the twig
like a first day child at the school gates,
the one yellow leaf
shivers in the stiff November breeze.
with irrational stubbornness,
it seeks to reverse the flow of rivers,
travel backwards in time
and snip the umbilical cord of the moon.
collar upturned and eyes slitted,
I admire its pathetic bravado,
in the same way that the last survivor
charges the lines of the enemy
with spear upturned.
There is a need for futility
in a world of purpose.
When I pass, the following day,
it is gone,
shaken loose and scolded on its way,
to join the millions mashed into the earth.
and I feel that I am nearer
my own time of clinging on stubbornly
against the odds.