“Prima Donna” and 1 more

Murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt prompt #2 is to write a Donna or an ode to a woman named Donna. My friend Donna died in July of last year from covid, and I’m grateful to be able to write a tribute to her. Peace to your !

Prima Donna
(my first one)

My mind is mush; my brain is fried.
I think I’m gonna quit.
I don’t wanna
Write a Donna.
Hey—hold on—this is it!

Letter to Donna

Dear Donna,
Faithful friend
And sister
In spirit,
On the drive
To meetings—

A prayer
Here on earth,
In heaven
Even more,
For me, friend,
No end.

Ode to Poetry

Over on The Skeptic’s Kaddish, I learned that it’s National Bad Poetry Day. An appropriate day to post this poem from 2015. Peace to your !

Ode to Poetry

O divine and lofty verse
Whose beauty has no equal,
Let me your many charms rehearse:
You’re lovelier than a pit bull.

nah…let’s see…

O lines that echo endlessly
For days and days and days,
Ear worms I would never flee,
To you I give just praise.

not good…how about this…

O poetry melodious,
You roll smoothly off my tongue,
I’m grateful you’re not odious,
Like my mother’s egg foo yung.

really not good…arghhh…

O poetry melodious,
I cannot seem to think
Of any praise not odious.
All my verses stink.

sigh…one last try…

O poetry, your glories
Mirror the music of the spheres,
So heavenly your harmonies,
Delightful music to my ears.

ahhh…almost makes me want to cry


Trial Mode

Next up, an ode to NaPoWriMo. Uh-oh.
Attempt number two (dum dum dum).
Perfect—ly awful.
Okay, third time’s the charm (dumb dumb dumb).
What a crock!
Ready or not,
It’s high time—no
Maybe about it—
One of these (30) days,

I’ll write NaPoWriMo a poem of praise.


Subscriber Mode

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Reviewed on April 30, 2022

If I had to spend one month on a deserted island
and could take only one book, it would be National
Poetry Writing Month and an empty notebook.

NaPoWriMo22 Day 30 — Prompt #7 from murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt, to write an irregular ode–or in my case, a highly irregular ode. (I tried to make the color of the five stars darker for an easier-on-the-eyes contrast, but no go.) This seems like a good way to end the month. It’s been an incredibly enjoyable and satisfying 30 days, and I’m sending a big thanks to all who contributed to making it that way. I’ll be back next year for more inspiration and fellowship. Take care, and peace to your !

P.S. I’ll be gone for the weekend and will respond to comments when I return. Then it’s back to posting once or twice a week.


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem of over-the-top compliments. Since I’m not feeling expansive at the moment, I’m instead posting a visual poem I worked on yesterday [an audio description can be found here] and also including the link for an ode to summer I composed years ago for a contest. Written in the flowery language of a traditional ode, it fits the prompt pretty well, I think. Peace to your ♥ !

NaPoWriMo20 Day 16 - I didn't use the NaPoWriMo.net prompt. 

“Ode to Summer”

I wrote the following poem for an ode-writing contest six years ago. I don’t think they were looking for traditional-style odes, but that’s what came first to my mind. Perhaps I went a mite overboard. :) Peace to your ♥ !

 Ode to Summer

O, Summer! That you should be measured solely by that
span from solstice to autumnal equinox!
Nay, you are more: the former part of June you did adopt and made sister
to the other three: sultry July, August that bears a canine stamp,
and sweet September whose mildness mocks the school-bound child.
Your lamp you do not douse till late, but let it burn
that we might feast outdoors in golden light,
And even then do not extinguish all, but spark the night with flies
which so impress, we close our eyes and find them gleaming still.

Summer! Who can fail to heed your dulcet call, enticement
to lay aside our base pursuits and, free from confining boot and wall,
tramp barefoot through an earthy paradise?
The bee proposes how to spend a happy hour: from him we learn
to find content in drawing from each scented flower
such heavenly drink as to honey all our later waking
and be rich fare for the meager winter board.
And thus we savor the gurgling brook, the slanting ray that gilds a path
to the celestial gate, gladsome air of wren and rook,
and each shady nook within the verdant copse.

Were I compelled to wear out my days in endless summer,
fain would I embrace my fate.
But as that congenial plight can ne’er be mine,
rather will I praise your endless charms, and count myself thrice blest
if in these lines a single summer’s moment I have stopped,
that it may be forever treasured.
Yea, Summer, figure of all that is fair and good,
such that a thousand lines would not suffice to name the half,
Fortunate the man who can afford to court thy favors!

© Stephanie Malley

Published in the July 2017 issue of Glass: Facets of Poetry.