Wheel of the Year Challenge

So we're all in
Ten lines minimum, Twenty max, no new players until this one is finished, todays Thuursday, drop poems by midnight Sunday, last poet to post picks next challenge conditions as well as new title... Go!

All but one is in. Just for clarity, midnight your time zone or our own? (If yours, please specify for the final contributor) thanks Harry. :)
 
All but one is in. Just for clarity, midnight your time zone or our own? (If yours, please specify for the final contributor) thanks Harry. :)
..
poets own sounds fair seeing how we are all scattered and I have no idea what Shanghitangs time zone is. Todski is on the far side of the planet for the next one n I think his time zone is yesterday, or tomorrow, not sure :eek:
 
All but one is in. Just for clarity, midnight your time zone or our own? (If yours, please specify for the final contributor) thanks Harry. :)
..
All over, the challenge is yours to throw down. I think we did a good job on the first. Okay who's in?
 
I'm in and way ahead of you timewise so that's why I wasn't the last to post because I had to post before most people!! :D
 
Daylight Savings Time

I entered the Wheel of Time challenge too late with this poem

Time change

As we fall back to standard
and no longer save daylight,
the mornings are brighter but
dark comes so much sooner.
Stark maples bare against red carpet
leaving only golden oaks and tamarack
to stand against the evergreens.
Let us seize this stolen hour
and together go undercover
to make a time to remember.

Somehow Harry has morphed this into an interim challenge on Daylight Savings Time so have at it.
 
Last edited:
I entered the Wheel of Time challenge too late with this poem. I wasn't reading the challenge beyond the first two posts as I thought there might be poems posted and wanted to put together before posting. So here is my entry, with apologies to Bob Dylan.

Time change

As we fall back to standard
and no longer save daylight,
the mornings are brighter but
dark comes so much sooner.
Stark maples bare against red carpet
leaving only golden oaks and tamarack
to stand against the evergreens.
Let us seize this stolen hour
and together go undercover
to make a time to remember.

Somehow Harry has morphed this into an interim challenge on Daylight Savings Time so have at it.
..
No I just didn't want you to lose the poem in my full pm box (bolded added from your note) and btw the challenge has gone to the Gratitude thread after Cascadia won? the hosting/challenger spot by being last to post before the cut-off time.
 
Last edited:
Flat Tire

Little Red sets beside the shop
up on blocks, paint faded top
abandoned all these many years
ambushed by a herd of deer,
angry no doubt by that shiny paint job
only a week old.
 
I loved that little red and yellow tricycle,
riding all day and every day
up and down the road outside our front gate.
Not many cars to speak of then on our
back of the beyond coastal road
except in the Summer when
holidaymakers streamed to the beach,
but by then I'd be among them
young as I was, trailing home for tea
with plimsolls full of sand, but until then
the tricycle was my toy of choice.
Until the next sister five years up from me
(always had a mean disposition)
took it and with her body and feet too big,
had no control and crashed it into a wall.
 
Training Wheels

He looked up at his dad with those same eyes,
That same face but years of care and worry
erased and asked for the tools he needed
to take control of where he was going,
to fall when he made a mistake and still
stand and get right back on that bike.

I watched through the window
as you showed him to use a wrench
not pliers
a socket not a hammer
a smile not a frown
and most importantly
humour not anger.

Those training wheels kept him
from crashing but letting
a three year old ride without them
taught him how to try again
until he could steer without falling.
 
Last edited:
brain's a vee-dub
beetle with a flat
desperately searches to recall
how it felt to run on all four
wheels, full-contact with asphalt
and able to read the road
as it slips into memory

it remembers the plot:
gorilla suit and infidelities
the dancing, smoking, drugs
the sex-compulsion
even the clicking of fingers
oh, sweet charity
top-hat, cane, minelli

but that one flat
keeps warping and thumping out of time
in defiance
of that one piece
that one iota
of information

still
at least three wheels are running smooth
i've a spare wheel for the changing
and this beetle's not yet on its back
all tyres spinning in the wind
 
Together my beloved and I
have circled time's wheel
and now are both grey
but still we speak
and sometimes
spoke each
other.
 
Last edited:
summer tomatoes

damp spring
worked the dirt
put in a garden
tomatoes, basil and more
weeded and watered
plants reach for the sun
red jewels on the vine
torn off in the night
and dropped on the porch

seems we did all that work
for the puppy
who craves the red fruit
 
the wheel spins - fall to winter
year after year
a brightness
a clarity
a blurring of memory
yet here we are
thoughts spinning into the future
time
wheeling away






.
 
First Memory
Fort Bliss, Texas, 1952
I was cotton-topped three
on a red tricycle,
following the G.I's on parade.
Dad brought the trike in the chevvy
all the way from Arlington.
I left my wheels outside overnight
and never saw them again -
missiles on the White Sands ranges
should have been more effective than a wall.
 
Last edited:
First Memory
Fort Bliss, Texas, 1952
I was cotton-topped three
on a red tricycle,
following the G.I's on parade.
Dad brought the trike in the chevvy
all the way from Arlington.
I left my wheels outside overnight
and never saw them again -
missiles on the White Sands ranges
should have been more effective than a wall.

Is Llareggub the one close to Llamedos lol?
 
Is Llareggub the one close to Llamedos lol?

Llamedos could almost be a tumbleweed cantina twinned with Loredo

With tongue in cheek apologies

As I walked out in the streets of Llamedos
As I walked out in Llamedos one day,
I spied a poor cowboy, all wrapped in white linen
All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.
 
Back
Top