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Welcome to Day 9 of the 2012 April Write – the Poets Jubilee Olympiad.

Over the Easter weekend, I’m pleased to see that some of our April Writers have managed to find a few quiet moments to themselves and have been hard at work catching up on days they’ve missed.

Your title and topic for Day 9 of the April Write (as suggested by group member Flowetic Justice) is:

Please watch the video below.

I look forward to seeing what you come up with in response.





9 responses »

  1. Gay Reiser Cannon

    What Women Do
    Women Wait
    Seems expected
    Even when we’re little girls -“don’t get dirty, just sit there
    And good children as we were, we did (mostly).
    And then we had to wait for something to happen.
    We had to wait to go to school, for lunch, for supper,
    for grades, for pats on the head, for a chance to be
    noticed. Some of us had to wait for periods; others wished
    we’d been granted that wait time. Some waited to develop
    and the same could be said about that.
    But mostly we waited to be taken seriously.
    We waited for men: fathers, brothers, teachers, preachers
    to take us seriously. Boys were falling down, running into trees,
    breaking their arms, acting foolish and YET they were taken
    seriously and girls weren’t.
    Then we had the temerity to fall in love with one of them.
    And they stood us up, made us wait, finally for some
    of us, they eventually showed up and made a vow with us.
    After that we learned the true meaning of wait…nine months for
    a baby, wait for it to do things, say things, become things. Waited
    for school to start for them, and end for them, waited until they
    arrived or left so we could get certain tasks done.
    We waited in lawyer’s offices, doctor’s offices, driver’s license
    offices, in hotels, in motels, in cafes and restaurants. We almost
    always waited for men who took hours or days or weeks doing
    what we could do in half make that a quarter of the time.
    I’ve grown old. Men my age are dying..women my age are
    going full Betty White throttle. We’ve ’bout quit waiting.

    (C)9th April 2012 Gay Reiser Cannon

  2. Katie Rendon (fb group member)

    A Part Of Me

    A part of me has gone away
    Carried in the heart of a man
    So I keep living day to day
    Surviving the best that I can

    While I wait for him to return
    Carrying my heart with him
    I’m just waiting for my baby to return
    So that my world is not so dim

    And I carry him with me
    Feeling the emotions he holds
    The weight will be lifted when he’s free
    To look for what the future holds

    But for now, a part of me has went away
    And I carry with me, the heart of a man
    I’m living for the day
    That we can be whole again
    (c)April 2012 Katie Rendon

  3. Karen Stally (fb group member)


    I am
    Waiting for my man
    the one that’s built and shaped for me
    my face will fit his hands
    the romeo to my juliet
    the honey in my tea
    the sunset to my summer nights
    the sky that covers me

    and when i’m lost he’ll find me
    and take me home to rest
    see when i bleed he’ll bleed me
    and let God’s love manifest

    i will gladly wash his feet, his crown
    bring food to satsify
    i’ll wait for him
    i’ll dare to dream
    i’ll gladly multiply

    yes he will bring the vision
    i’ll bring the canopy
    with his coat of many colours
    he paints rainbows over me

    so, i’m waiting

    (c) karen stally 2012

  4. Justice Chikandamina

    10 20 30 forgive me i am not trying to count in tens
    these are the minutes that have come and gone by
    whilst i wait for the one that holds my heart
    40 50 60 minutes graduating into an hour
    and i am still waiting for my queen
    to get on to that love bound train
    that will connect us, with a cut above the rest
    that makes all the waiting golden fields of roses
    (C)April 2012 Justice Chikandamina

  5. Zita Holbourne (fb group member)

    Waiting hoping praying
    Can’t sleep, just laying
    Waiting for the morning to come
    Wonder if they’ll find out what I’ve done
    Waiting for fate
    Hope it comes late
    Waiting for the inevitable
    But hoping that I sound credible
    When I tell them it wasn’t me
    Praying that they’ll set me free
    Wondering if guilt will ever subside
    Wondering if I should run and hide
    But knowing that it would just delay
    I cannot keep the truth at bay
    Waiting ………
    No turning back, it’s much too late
    But at least I no longer have to wait
    (C)April 2012 Zita Holbourne

  6. Justice Clarke Day 8 –

    Waiting by Flowetic Justice

    She waits for the stop to this incessant insanity the cold night on the street comer where the cars slowly ride by honking baiting her wanting her to gain entrance so the filthy hands of a stranger can fondle her once more and she commits the undesirable unspeakable acts reserved for those labeled hooker and whores the day that there is no longer a need for the substance craved that procured product that had robbed her of her pride and vanity sold by those who speak in fragmented thoughts adorned with venom and profanity for the cabs to stop parking so near to her but she has to be there in order to quell the fear in her where are the birds of so called freedom when she needs them there is so mush at risk in what she does as others make their way to the bars and restaurants and clubs or go home to the open doors and arms of those they love she is there with the light of life flickering dimly in her dying eyes as silently she cries waiting for a change to to come so her street walking day will finally be done and she is not the only one

    He waits for the revolution that he has been told is the solution to this shattered image of the American dream for he believes in the scheme that his people were flooded with low priced narcotics in an attempt to lay waste to his proud race he speaks often to those in the neighborhood telling them the words of the dead prophets to be careful when wearing their hoods striving so hard to plant the seeds of good but flowers seldom bloom in his neck of the woods for there is so much concrete beneath his aching feet and so very few freshly laid lots scattered dots that do not rot in the mental fields of the unyielding hood he ponders the future of his creed and what will become of him will this be the night he reaches one teaches one or will he simply become just another victim in the back of the ambulance where the lights flash red like the blood he bleeds has anyone heard his voice do we really have a choice or is it all t stretched out before us without a chance to re write our stories is there such a thing as heavenly glory and who will bless the unknown if they are condemned to always walk alone humming a tune crooned by forgotten leaders ignored by the younger readers that becomes harder and harder to recall each day

    They wait for the signs of life that will come in the whispers of the frosty night for they have lost their ability to dream any more and sometimes they wonder what for as love and family have been stripped for them and all that remains are the images held in the minds of the sorrowful devoured in the plated ill fated meals of regret that they did not speak when there was still time left and now all is lost for there are no hands to hold no warm body to embrace them and comfort them when the winds blow hard and cold just the same old story often told and so they wrap their arms around the specter of a ghost and hold it so very close hoping there will ether come an end or the emergence of a needed friend for time is still is marching on by them

    I wait each morning when there is still the blanket of night and sit alone in the darkness awaiting the blare of the trumpet of my words it is a sound never heard except by me as the page laps up the ink left on it by the prodding of the open wisdom of the gem as I come to write again I wait for those to come who can truly see what I have left the desires of my internal test the rivers in my mind the ties that bind in the surging crest of this sea of washing lines the times when I have lyrically wept when I sung the song of hope when delved into the deep drinking well of issues beyond the common scope when I was drowning trying so very hard to stay afloat for some one to throw me a rope or just some one to really appreciate what I wrote not just a one word answers or a guess but who was really touched by what was beating in my chest to find who knew me the best for like so many others out there in the void debating contemplating serenading in the dark to the sound of my still beating heart as I am here….

    Thoughts of a Single Man 2012tm

  7. Bayley Marina3:03pm Apr 13
    Waiting for them to simply choose
    Thinking that I had nothing to lose
    Thinking that I couldn’t be rejected
    Knowing that my plan was effective
    So I waited for the letter and the change of date
    I got up early so I wouldn’t be late, which only extended the wait
    The wait in the room, which was full of gloom
    I waited for the answers to form in my head
    I waited for the questions that had to be said
    I waited for my head to ease
    I waited for the reference to form upon the page
    I waited for the grade, which I should have got another day
    I waited for another CRB
    If you please
    Then I waited on the phone
    Feeling very alone
    As a reference was so great it ended my wait
    They was only one thing I had to do
    Tell you what you did was wrong
    But instead I gave thanks
    As it was me
    Not thinking I would be rejected
    Not thinking that this twist, would be effective
    Not knowing that you wanted me to stay
    Not knowing that you had no faith in me
    Not knowing that you are unable to see
    And because of this the choice they made has gone
    Only the only thing I had to say was this will not be the end of my song
    As the wait has made me strong
    (C)April 2012 Marina Bayley

  8. Adam Rowland3:39pm Apr 13
    The bus driver seems to take his time, from time to time.
    The seemingly epochal era that I am forced to delay is unfounded, period.
    I wear stripy socks.
    And my jodhpurs are not helping the situation.
    I wish to smash the dull brick of truth against his face over and over again.
    And once more.
    But of course I cannot.
    A flat tyre forces me to remain stolid.
    And thus I remain.
    And as does he.
    I eventually see the truth in his brow.
    Where it belongs.

    (C)April 2012 Adam Rowland

  9. Lana Joseph12:13am Apr 16
    “By LJ”
    I sit standing
    will We
    ever Be
    Our journey
    Thus far
    For Moments
    Hearing laughter
    Connected souls
    Long stretch strolls
    Standing with me
    Eyes on skin
    Pulling in
    No touch
    Only grins
    I stand sitting
    Will it be realized?
    I snuggle images
    Envision breaths
    Feeling smiles
    Arousing whiles
    Times solitude
    Looking to thee
    To Be
    I see
    Comforting you
    Bringing forth
    Copyright © 2012 LJ
    All Rights Reserved.


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