Below are the final five poems from the recent Twitter poetry party. The prompts for the jam were all taken from Neruda’s Memoirs: Poems by Maureen Doallas.

By @llbarkat, @Dancinbutterfly, @mmerubies, @doallas, @jejpoet, @lschontos, @lauraboggess, @SandraHeskaKing, @amykiane and @LoveLifeLitGod. Edited by @gyoung9751.

Celestial Seizures

I seize the moon;
will the moon seize me?
God bless the moon,
God seize me.
The stars sprinkle the sky with light,
sending brilliant flashes into the night.
The moon seizes the mermaid
on her voyage to the stars.
Splashes of moonbeams on silvery tides
chase fallen stars into the night,
moonbeams that beg to be unwoven
just to reach the silver lining.
“Seize the day,” urged the ancient bard
to the boy. “Sees the day,” muttered
the moon about the sun.

Words on a Summer Night

Before you drink the red night,
before you are washed away
into the endless night,
thread your words carefully
on silken thread, praying
all the while they bring grace.
My own words did I recognize
early on but thought to hold
my tongue; regret
and bitterness ate them,
bitterness on a night
pitch black but woven.
with light from a thousand fireflies,
There is so much I would say,
could but never should say.
I’ll hold the thread
till the hills stop singing
those dreams of children
on summer nights.

In my dreams

In my dreams a blue Chinese jar
and a silver fish and mermaids
dancing with the moon
make perfect sense without
my consciousness being in the way.
I want to splash in this water,
spray the earth with silver drops
under the moon and weave together
earth and sky with drops of gold,
moonbeams melting on fins
and little silvered things.
My morning coat is blue
and white; I open it,
reveal a fin.

The White Rabbit

White rabbit it is
who took the jar
that held the elixir
that made the silver fish
shine.

Follow him down the rabbit hole;
a land filled with talking cards
and mad hatters awaits.
Why make sense
when rabbits race
and jars ting
and the hills now ring
graced with silver fish?

The elixir’s spent. What game
might then be played
to while the hours
before a rabbit dressed
in morning coat arrives.
Hahahaha laughs
the Cheshire cat, vanishing
(or avoiding).

And the queen sipped tea
and Alice longed for home
and the rabbit oh so late.
The screams of teapots
just too steamed started
a fight, a battle, white
against red that caused
poor Alice terrible dreams.

The battle nobody wins until
grief and pride and self thins.
Alice sidles to the takeout
Window, asks for fries and coke
to ease the battle but
the counter window is closed,
shut tight. Poor Alice grumped;
she’d take her lumps.

A spot of tea:
(elixir’s better)
rabbit would know
why not to snicker.
Twas our pleasure,
said the Queen,
to be re-enchanted, to listen
to the rabbit coming up for air,
no room to spare,
to take a breath between.

Fast Food Reading

Reading Goodnight Moon
is not like stopping
at McDonald’s.
Goodnight reading is
more filling than
goodnight eating.
Red balloons on burgers
float sesame seeds on buns
galumphing to the clouds.
Enjoy the meal of ketchup packets;
such kisses as Red Queen
might favor on her lips
unsullied by a coke and chips.
Who needs cents
when McDonald’s loves your lines,
will take you for 99 and
fly away on french fry wings?