PHOENIX RISING – DESTINATION: POETRY – HOW DOES IT FEEL? (MOOD)

Surely, we can tell when those around us are in a bad mood or  truly great mood. We can tell when they’re excited, calm, uptight, hyper or afraid. Much like people, poems have moods as well. This mood is tied into how a poet sets the scene, what is happening in the plot, and/or the rhythm of the poetic piece. The mood of the poems can change, usually as the situations in the plot change.

Write a poem in which you create a mood in either a doctor’s waiting room, a crowded movie theater, or any intimate gathering of people using the aspects of the poetic process we have discussed so far. Use your poetic skills to tell how it feels!

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46 thoughts on “PHOENIX RISING – DESTINATION: POETRY – HOW DOES IT FEEL? (MOOD)

  1. WAITING AND WONDERING

    Time is unbearable,
    the lumbering behemoth,
    the eight-hundred pound
    gorilla in your gut.

    In a room full of strange
    looking strangers, you feel
    certain your condition spells
    curtains for this life so planned.

    Hands clammy and cold
    shivers meander up your spine.
    You felt fine this morning…
    last week… a few months..

    you don’t remember the last
    time you felt yourself.
    This common cold,
    or hypoglycemic malaise,

    those days when the soreness
    became aches,
    become pains,
    become more than you wish to feel.

    No one knows the troubles you’ve seen.
    No one moves from their seats.
    No one wants be the first victim
    of this specialist’s dire diagnosis.

    No one chose this, and nobody
    ever asked them what they wanted.
    I’m about to go home but they’ve just
    called my name. Will I ever be the same?

    Liked by 2 people

  2. William Preston

    SUMMER EVE

    The moon is riding low tonight;
    the clouds are glowing in its light;
    the air is waiting placidly
    and all of it is charming me.

    The clouds are glowing in its light
    as nighthawks pass my line of sight;
    I watch them as, from left to right,
    their passage augers gentle might.

    The air is waiting placidly
    for morning breeze to set it free
    with birdsong for its canopy;
    the stillness whispers hints of glee

    and all of it is charming me.
    A sense of serendipity
    settles my soul. The moon’s soft flight
    has rendered worry moot and trite.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. The mood of a ‘car’ ?
    If some can name their autos…does that not give them ‘life?’ Just a different take to go with my mash of prompts that you can see if you go to the link.

    Jeep Speak
    (a haibun)

    And just now at nine pm the sun is almost gone.
    The sky once grey, still a speckled robin’s egg blue,
    the cracked shell of new birth…
    fledgling in the nest settles to dream of the flight
    that might arrive on the wind of tomorrow.
    *
    In the parking garage facing the sunset, forgotten briefly
    until the next need – unable to wander on my own –
    not a single tremulous movement once they key is separated
    only to remember where I have been
    after having held those who use my holds
    a metal formed fortress built on modern traditions –
    for men’s’ love of speed and the woman that travels with him –
    there are no customs for a rental, passing through cities and states,
    save to admire the architecture of the earth and buildings
    that dot the landscape – no escape from the driver’s handling…
    *
    And just now returned to the lot – outside,
    no cover from the lengthening afternoon,
    during this longest day of the year to watch the season turn,
    and be baked as the fledgling leaves the nest,
    for a flight that an automobile shall never have…
    *
    captive, exhausted
    intimate with those pulsing
    a tool to be used

    (c)JP/dh
    a link to the site:
    Jeep Speak

    Liked by 1 person

  4. At The Dentist’s Office

    A greasy brown-haired teenager
    keeps sneezing. I concentrate
    on my book. When I look up,
    two women enter and sit
    across from me. The first flips
    through Elle, long red nails tapping
    pages, obviously unfazed
    about being here. I look at the clock.
    My appointment time flew by
    an hour ago. They are slow
    movers in this dentist’s office,
    where smiling tooth characters
    grin at you from yellow walls.

    The other woman starts
    chatting away. Her graying
    hair juts out from her head, nails
    bitten to shreds, her voice hitting me
    like chalk on a blackboard. I look down
    at my book, back at the clock, hear
    faint sounds of a drill. The teenager’s
    nose is red. Why did he come here
    with a cold?

    Tap, tap, tap. Elle’s reader flips back
    and forth, as she answers Ms. Squeak.
    I get up and stare out the small window.
    Sitting below it, a heavily perfumed
    woman is yelling into her cell phone; I thought
    they were not allowed.

    Sweating and annoyed, I feel
    a headache beat behind my eyes.
    I give the receptionist a piece of my mind,
    and everyone stares at me,
    like I’m the bad guy. I pick up my book
    and leave, slamming the glass door
    behind me. My tooth no longer hurts.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Twelve O’Clock Blues

    A long whistle of the passing train
    piercing the dark like a wail
    faint clickity-clack of wheels on rail
    sings a wandering refrain.

    Call of the coyote, wail of the loon
    breaking the silence of night
    with lonesome intoning of their plight
    waits for an answering croon.

    Rushing onward water over stones
    tumbling and splashing with glee
    determined to reach the distant sea
    humming in ambient tones.
    Tossing and turning in restless sleep
    dreaming of exotic sands
    imagining entwined loving hands
    midnight’s sad songs make me weep.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Ah, yes – I think we both have that T-shirt that says; “Been there done that” – partly why I’m with hubby now… as he works on a job site out of state… just to be with him.

    Midnight can be weepy… and yet then another day passes closer towards a reunion?

    Liked by 1 person

  7. […] Shared at Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild […]

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  8. IT’S ALL IN MY HEAD

    I’m alone
    in this space,
    this place
    where thoughts
    collide
    with reality.
    Whispers of hope
    are crowded out
    by shouts
    of disappointment
    and failure.
    My cries go unheard;
    tears, undried.
    I’m all alone
    in this space.

    2015-06-22
    P. Wanken

    Liked by 1 person

  9. It’s amazing how noisy the head is, and for me, this captures that beautifully.

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  10. Yes, loud and clear… and I recognize the space. Well done

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  11. […] PHOENIX RISING – DESTINATION: POETRY – HOW DOES IT FEEL? (MOOD) […]

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  12. Bringer of Awe

    You see – it was a mere twenty steps taken – it was then on crest of hill overlooking marsh, breathing in its deep green scent and peering over its tall stalks that I thought about it. I wondered when and I believed it would be soon – I’d see one soon. And so I was surprised and also not surprised that it appeared just then – after I’d descended and started round the bend. There on the pale white sheet of morning sky – a most majestic creature made its broad-swooping way across clouds. Everything went still in this moment. Even the other birds seemed to hush and watch as you pulsed with grand-sweeping wings – your head pushed forward with each stroke – and the ‘S’ curve of your elongated throat pulled in close swayed with motion of flight. Yes, consuming and prehistoric-like you caused breath to catch in the chest of every witness present…trailing away with narrow dash-lines of legs and pointed arrow-feet.

    Just when I wondered –
    there you were – bringer of awe
    O’ Great Blue Heron.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2015

    Liked by 1 person

  13. We have a heron, possibly a pair that use the creek near us on their route. Depending on the weather and availability of fish… they stay most of the spring, summer and fall. As soon as you mentioned “S” neck…I knew. They are beautiful birds 🙂

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  14. connielpeters

    In the Moonlight

    The white horse, indigo, in the moonlight
    Its full mane flowing along
    Dreamy shadows called from the ocean
    Singing their age-old song

    Come where there’s adventure
    Come and you’ll be free
    Forget all your worries and troubles
    Come to the lovely sea

    The rider, a wisp of a woman
    Her violet hair waving as the mane
    Answered the urgent calling
    And was never seen again.

    Come where there’s adventure
    Come and you’ll be fee
    Forget all your worries and troubles
    Come to the lovely sea

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