The looking glass war is
, and so is the beautiful cigar girl
, and finally the true Stella awards

just as you always imagined it would be
like the thieves of Bagdad
, like predicting the markets of tomorrow

and the runes of the Earth
, it’s only a game.
We are snow blind.

You are the woman at the Washington Zoo.
This is how we do it.
We have religion gone bad.

Every second counts
in this kingdomality
Londond is the best city in America.

Today’s Red Wheelbarrow:

This here comes courtesy yesterday’s American Life in Poetry column. Can you guess? Did you read it? Write a poem about/of/containing your history/memory/imagination of wallpapering.

The daily Red Wheelbarrow is a stimulus for growth, for making something real out of having been prodded in the side, for mixing concrete, a needle in a hastack in the state park, a red wheelbarrow in the rain beside the white chickens, something still but still moving, motion, flexing writing muscles that need flexing, lifting, creation, get going.

You may use the Red Wheelbarrow as you wish. I do not hold you accountable for it, nor do I take any credit for you writing or not writing that you should or would or may or can derive from it.

I would ask that if you write a poem (or novel or grocery list or help manual) using said stimulus (I like to call the “things” I make from such things “White Chickens,” because that’s just the way I am), and if you post your work to the inter-webs (or the ‘nets, or the www, or whatever fun moniker you give this big wide place), that you do your best to link back here, not because we want to flatter (or fatten) ourselves, but because it would be cool, and because maybe if we manage to stimulate you, we could also stimulate your cousin Bess, your best friend Pietro, your dog Boo, and that would also be cool.

Now for some housekeeping… if you want to make sure you never miss a prompt or other Daily Poem goodness, do this: Subscribe to the Bain Books Daily Poem feed in a newsreader or by email.

If you are feeling the love and you want to set it free, you can support the continued observation of daily Red Wheelbarrows and other daily poemification by peeking at (and maybe buying) one of my books [You Are a Dog or We Are the Cat]. You could also visit my weblogsite here for fun and no profit whatsoever: bainbooks.com. You can email me or direct your spambots here: bainbooks@gmail.com.

Blessings, and thanks for visiting. The Daily Red Wheelbarrow Stimulus is sponsored by You Are a Dog, We Are the Cat, the Daily Poem Swicki, and Rain-glazed White Chickens^®, available at finer grocery and poetry supermarkets everywhere.

^tags { bain / bain books / poem / poetry / poetry prompt / prompt / red wheelbarrow / stimulus / terry bain / white chickens } _tags

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

One big test of the endurance of any relationship is taking on a joint improvement project. Here Sue Ellen Thompson offers an account of one such trial by fire.

Wallpapering

My parents argued over wallpaper. Would stripes
make the room look larger? He
would measure, cut, and paste; she’d swipe
the flaws out with her brush. Once it was properly

hung, doubt would set in. Would the floral
have been a better choice? Then it would grow
until she was certain: it had to go. Divorce
terrified me as a child. I didn’t know

what led to it, but I had my suspicions.
The stripes came down. Up went
the flowers. Eventually it became my definition
of marriage: bad choices, arguments

whose victors time refused to tell,
but everything done together and done well.

Reprinted by permission of the author. Copyright (c) 2006 by Sue Ellen Thompson, from her book, “The Golden Hour,” published by Autumn House Press. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

Today’s Red Wheelbarrow:

There’s a community meeting at the coffee shop where I’m writing this morning, and I’m tempted to Wheelbarrow them. But I’m having trouble setting myself a topic for the Wheelbarrow, even though it’s right in front of me, there it is, on a tripod for all to see, it’s a master plan. Enjoy that.

The daily Red Wheelbarrow is a stimulus for growth, for making something real out of having been prodded in the side, for mixing concrete, a needle in a hastack in the state park, a red wheelbarrow in the rain beside the white chickens, something still but still moving, motion, flexing writing muscles that need flexing, lifting, creation, get going.

You may use the Red Wheelbarrow as you wish. I do not hold you accountable for it, nor do I take any credit for you writing or not writing that you should or would or may or can derive from it.

I would ask that if you write a poem (or novel or grocery list or help manual) using said stimulus (I like to call the “things” I make from such things “White Chickens,” because that’s just the way I am), and if you post your work to the inter-webs (or the ‘nets, or the www, or whatever fun moniker you give this big wide place), that you do your best to link back here, not because we want to flatter (or fatten) ourselves, but because it would be cool, and because maybe if we manage to stimulate you, we could also stimulate your cousin Bess, your best friend Pietro, your dog Boo, and that would also be cool.

Now for some housekeeping… if you want to make sure you never miss a prompt or other Daily Poem goodness, do this: Subscribe to the Bain Books Daily Poem feed in a newsreader or by email.

If you are feeling the love and you want to set it free, you can support the continued observation of daily Red Wheelbarrows and other daily poemification by peeking at (and maybe buying) one of my books [You Are a Dog or We Are the Cat]. You could also visit my weblogsite here for fun and no profit whatsoever: bainbooks.com. You can email me or direct your spambots here: bainbooks@gmail.com.

Blessings, and thanks for visiting. The Daily Red Wheelbarrow Stimulus is sponsored by You Are a Dog, We Are the Cat, the Daily Poem Swicki, and Rain-glazed White Chickens^®, available at finer grocery and poetry supermarkets everywhere.

Is it not the same
, striking the match
without you and your
brother
and half the men
from the department
of useless pass
-times just as we
listened always
to the scratch
sound of the unlit-to-lit
match catching us
out of the darkness
like that, like that
we would repeat it
like that. And burn.

Get Lit

Today’s Red Wheelbarrow:

I have my iTunes listening thingie set to randomness (or near randomness, anyway) and the thing just presented me with three Prince songs in a row. So, whether you do Prince or TAFKAP or not, I bet you can do something with the word prince.

The daily Red Wheelbarrow is a stimulus for growth, for making something real out of having been prodded in the side, for mixing concrete, a needle in a hastack in the state park, a red wheelbarrow in the rain beside the white chickens, something still but still moving, motion, flexing writing muscles that need flexing, lifting, creation, get going.

You may use the Red Wheelbarrow as you wish. I do not hold you accountable for it, nor do I take any credit for you writing or not writing that you should or would or may or can derive from it.

I would ask that if you write a poem (or novel or grocery list or help manual) using said stimulus (I like to call the “things” I make from such things “White Chickens,” because that’s just the way I am), and if you post your work to the inter-webs (or the ‘nets, or the www, or whatever fun moniker you give this big wide place), that you do your best to link back here, not because we want to flatter (or fatten) ourselves, but because it would be cool, and because maybe if we manage to stimulate you, we could also stimulate your cousin Bess, your best friend Pietro, your dog Boo, and that would also be cool.

Now for some housekeeping… if you want to make sure you never miss a prompt or other Daily Poem goodness, do this: Subscribe to the Bain Books Daily Poem feed in a newsreader or by email.

If you are feeling the love and you want to set it free, you can support the continued observation of daily Red Wheelbarrows and other daily poemification by peeking at (and maybe buying) one of my books [You Are a Dog or We Are the Cat]. You could also visit my weblogsite here for fun and no profit whatsoever: bainbooks.com. You can email me or direct your spambots here: bainbooks@gmail.com.

Blessings, and thanks for visiting. The Daily Red Wheelbarrow Stimulus is sponsored by You Are a Dog, We Are the Cat, the Daily Poem Swicki, and Rain-glazed White Chickens^®, available at finer grocery and poetry supermarkets everywhere.

^tags { bain / bain books / poem / poetry / poetry prompt / prompt / red wheelbarrow / stimulus / terry bain / white chickens } _tags

Today’s Red Wheelbarrow:

It’s Get Lit time here in Spokane, which is supposed to the name of a literary festival, but the name itself has been compared to the terminology of getting high, of taking drugs, of doing whatever it takes to alter your state of being. So I invite you today to do just that: get lit.

The daily Red Wheelbarrow is a stimulus for growth, for making something real out of having been prodded in the side, for mixing concrete, a needle in a hastack in the state park, a red wheelbarrow in the rain beside the white chickens, something still but still moving, motion, flexing writing muscles that need flexing, lifting, creation, get going.

You may use the Red Wheelbarrow as you wish. I do not hold you accountable for it, nor do I take any credit for you writing or not writing that you should or would or may or can derive from it.

I would ask that if you write a poem (or novel or grocery list or help manual) using said stimulus (I like to call the “things” I make from such things “White Chickens,” because that’s just the way I am), and if you post your work to the inter-webs (or the ‘nets, or the www, or whatever fun moniker you give this big wide place), that you do your best to link back here, not because we want to flatter (or fatten) ourselves, but because it would be cool, and because maybe if we manage to stimulate you, we could also stimulate your cousin Bess, your best friend Pietro, your dog Boo, and that would also be cool.

Now for some housekeeping… if you want to make sure you never miss a prompt or other Daily Poem goodness, do this: Subscribe to the Bain Books Daily Poem feed in a newsreader or by email.

If you are feeling the love and you want to set it free, you can support the continued observation of daily Red Wheelbarrows and other daily poemification by peeking at (and maybe buying) one of my books [You Are a Dog or We Are the Cat]. You could also visit my weblogsite here for fun and no profit whatsoever: bainbooks.com. You can email me or direct your spambots here: bainbooks@gmail.com.

Blessings, and thanks for visiting. The Daily Red Wheelbarrow Stimulus is sponsored by You Are a Dog, We Are the Cat, the Daily Poem Swicki, and Rain-glazed White Chickens^®, available at finer grocery and poetry supermarkets everywhere.

You owe it to yourself (or, if you don’t trust yourself, you owe it to me) to read “Parent” over at The Writer’s Almanac. Better yet, let Garrison Keillor read it to you. It is a particularly amazing poem (for me), and I find myself near tears. Lovely. So lovely. Here: Parent. Also, subscribe to The Writer’s Almanac podcast. It’s worth it. Every day. Here:

Today’s Red Wheelbarrow:

I dug up a word today while looking for another word. The word I dug up was inkhorn, and it implies a kind of writing or word that is overtly self indulgent, and I love the word itself, so for today I’d like to reflect for a moment on the word inkhorn, and maybe dash off some poetical thoughts on the subject, and you may or may not follow suit. So have at it.

about: The daily Red Wheelbarrow is a stimulus for growth, for making something real out of having been prodded in the side, for mixing concrete, a needle in a hastack in the state park, a red wheelbarrow in the rain beside the white chickens, something still but still moving, motion, flexing writing muscles that need flexing, lifting, creation, get going.

You may use the Red Wheelbarrow as you wish. I do not hold you accountable for it, nor do I take any credit for you writing or not writing that you should or would or may or can derive from it.

I would ask that if you write a poem (or novel or grocery list or help manual) using said stimulus (I like to call the “things” I make from such things “White Chickens,” because that’s just the way I am), and if you post your work to the inter-webs (or the ‘nets, or the www, or whatever fun moniker you give this big wide place), that you do your best to link back here, not because we want to flatter (or fatten) ourselves, but because it would be cool, and because maybe if we manage to stimulate you, we could also stimulate your cousin Bess, your best friend Pietro, your dog Boo, and that would also be cool.

Now for some housekeeping… if you want to make sure you never miss a prompt or other Daily Poem goodness, do this: Subscribe to the Bain Books Daily Poem feed in a newsreader or by email.

If you are feeling the love and you want to set it free, you can support the continued observation of daily Red Wheelbarrows and other daily poemification by peeking at (and maybe buying) one of my books [You Are a Dog or We Are the Cat]. You could also visit my weblogsite here for fun and no profit whatsoever: bainbooks.com. You can email me or direct your spambots here: bainbooks@gmail.com.

Blessings, and thanks for visiting. The Daily Red Wheelbarrow Stimulus is sponsored by You Are a Dog, We Are the Cat, the Daily Poem Swicki, and Rain-glazed White Chickens^®, available at finer grocery and poetry supermarkets everywhere.

^tags { bain / bain books / poem / poetry / poetry prompt / prompt / red wheelbarrow / stimulus / terry bain / white chickens } _tags

Today’s Red Wheelbarrow:

Our flowering plum is in bloom, and this tree is more than up to the task of inspiring poetry. I therefore give you: flowering plum.

The daily Red Wheelbarrow is a stimulus for growth, for making something real out of having been prodded in the side, for mixing concrete, a needle in a hastack in the state park, a red wheelbarrow in the rain beside the white chickens, something still but still moving, motion, flexing writing muscles that need flexing, lifting, creation, get going.

You may use the Red Wheelbarrow as you wish. I do not hold you accountable for it, nor do I take any credit for you writing or not writing that you should or would or may or can derive from it.

I would ask that if you write a poem (or novel or grocery list or help manual) using said stimulus (I like to call the “things” I make from such things “White Chickens,” because that’s just the way I am), and if you post your work to the inter-webs (or the ‘nets, or the www, or whatever fun moniker you give this big wide place), that you do your best to link back here, not because we want to flatter (or fatten) ourselves, but because it would be cool, and because maybe if we manage to stimulate you, we could also stimulate your cousin Bess, your best friend Pietro, your dog Boo, and that would also be cool.

Now for some housekeeping… if you want to make sure you never miss a prompt or other Daily Poem goodness, do this: Subscribe to the Bain Books Daily Poem feed in a newsreader or by email.

If you are feeling the love and you want to set it free, you can support the continued observation of daily Red Wheelbarrows and other daily poemification by peeking at (and maybe buying) one of my books [You Are a Dog or We Are the Cat]. You could also visit my weblogsite here for fun and no profit whatsoever: bainbooks.com. You can email me or direct your spambots here: bainbooks@gmail.com.

Blessings, and thanks for visiting. The Daily Red Wheelbarrow Stimulus is sponsored by You Are a Dog, We Are the Cat, the Daily Poem Swicki, and Rain-glazed White Chickens^®, available at finer grocery and poetry supermarkets everywhere.

^tags { bain / bain books / poem / poetry / poetry prompt / prompt / red wheelbarrow / stimulus / terry bain / white chickens } _tags