Today I’m using the Writer’s Digest prompt: Write a poem using at least three of the following six words: convict, great, play, race, season, and voice.

Watching the children play in every season

Summer in Arizona means we can’t stay outside 
for long (too hot!) unless we’re wet. A few hours a day 
we play in the pool. I swim a lap, then sit in the shade to watch
games of Marco Polo or diving for rings. My children’s
happy voices are music to my ears.

Fall’s temperatures gradually cool until the pool
no longer sings its siren song. Off to the park to play,
to swing, to climb monkey bars, to run races.

Only an Arizonan understands
the need to wear a down jacket when the winter temperature
hits a frosty 50 degrees. Can we go somewhere there’s snow?
No. Mama doesn’t remember how to drive on icy roads.
I’ll watch you ride your bikes ‘round the cul de sac instead.

Spring is short in the desert. The blooming orange trees and wildflowers
remind us that blazing heat will return soon. Now is the time for baseball. 
It’s great when we win! Juice boxes and chips after the game.

©ARHuelsenbeck 2021

Today’s prompt is Junk Drawer Song. The song I chose is Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye, sung here by Judy Collins and Leonard Cohen in 1976. You might as well play it in the background while you’re reading.

custody battle


no love for us this morning
I found a hair on your pillow and
it wasn’t mine

I went off to the city
you vanished into the forest
distance our common goal

I took the wrench
you took the screws
who took the sharpie

you didn’t say goodbye
neither did I
will we ever greet one another again

do you remember
when we walked together
and our feet always landed at the same time

I took the matches
you took the electrical tape
I lost the scissors

our lives ran parallel
like the shoreline and the sea
then you ran off at a tangent

my eyes were hard as flint
your eyes were soft with sorrow
we weren’t the first disparate souls to fall in love

you took the string
I paid for that screwdriver
whatever happened to the 9-volt batteries

©ARHuelsenbeck 2021

I used Writers Digest’s prompt today: write a persona poem for an inanimate object. A persona poem is when you write a poem in the voice of someone (or in this case something) else.

The Wedding Cake Knife

I was your honored servant the day you were wed
I was so handsome; you loved me so
your soft young hand encircled my silver handle carved with lilies
your husband’s hand guided yours
my blade quickly excised the first slice of cake at your reception
oh, how the crowd applauded
it was my proudest moment

thereafter, I was always included in your family celebrations
and when people remarked on my beauty
you explained I was the very knife that cut your wedding cake
I sparkled with pride; I glowed with the memory
I performed my task with excellence

over the years, I felt myself growing weaker
yet you loved me just the same
you continued to require my presence 
whenever there was cake to serve
and it was my pleasure to comply

when your fifth child became a teenager
she asked you for an ice cream cake for her party
and you did not deny her
I tried to execute my duty
but the frozen confection was beyond my ability
I strained with the effort, aware this would be my final assignment
but I failed

my blade separated from my handle
and the party guests laughed with glee
I was ashamed

but you said, “This was a wedding gift;
it was the knife I used to cut our wedding cake.
I love this knife.”
the girls’ laughter hushed
they heard the affection and the grief in your voice
and they mourned with you

as you cast me aside
no longer the prized possession
I took comfort in knowing 
I had served you well
and my service was acknowledged and valued

©ARHuelsenbeck 2021