After a brief absence and reorganization, these sites have been transformed into the PHOENIX RISING POETRY GUILD. We continue to offer weekly prompts and exercises meant to instruct and hone our poetic skills. Currently we are in the midst of our annual JULY P.A.D. The theme for 2015 is DestinationPoetry – TRAVELOG.

Our worldwide junket has visited the Tower of London and Stonehenge in the UK, Washington D.C. and Times Square in the U.S. so far. Today, we visit the Calgary Stampede in Canada. If you’ve been away, please join us again. It’s not too late!


Over the course of the turmoil that life had delivered to Marie and me, I had found it difficult to post up the various Chapbooks submitted to Creative Bloomings. Now that I have a bit of space to breathe and collect my thoughts in some semblance of normalcy, I will try to offer these up here at CB. Their presentation will be announced in the usual channels and I will notify you by e-mail when they will appear. So you see, Creative Bloomings will still have a useful purpose until we find its ultimate place! Thanks to all of our wonderful poets for your patience and understanding.


The bard Burns penned this appropriate song which we haul out at the end of each year. So I choose to open with this lyric, “Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…” When applied to this wonderful place of poetry, it seems a grand impossibility! How could we forget these connections we’ve made here at CREATIVE (POETIC) BLOOMINGS?

The end of another year brings thoughts of hope for wonderful new things to come. It also brings a sadness, my personal loss not withstanding. The passing of my Father-in-Law, John Burkowski is a painfully hard pill to swallow, and although he is at peace, his influence will be greatly missed.

Many have shared their condolences and shared their comfort at his loss. Unfortunately, after discussions with my forever-partner and “best friend” (whom I still haven’t met), Marie, we have determined that CREATIVE BLOOMINGS needs to lay fallow for a length of time. Neither of us are able to continue with its tending right now, with familial responsibilities and issues of rather personal nature. Marie and I will be closing the gates here at CB. We will not be locking the gate however, it will remain at this address, as it will continue to be a beautiful place to read our past renderings. Also, any information about the long-awaited second volume of our anthology will be posted as it nears its completion. (Yes, we continue to push it forward). I personally thank every poetic soul who had graced this place, and our hope is to someday return to its viability! So for now, I’ll say, “Stay well. Continue to pose this poetic wonder and give your words to the world! All this talent can surely stand tall on its own merit. You are all considered friends and you are all greatly loved! I thank you for walking this leg of the journey with us!” ~Walt


When you look up garden terms, you find “family.” For Walt and me, this seems quite appropriate. This has been more than just a lovely place to read and write. Inside these garden gates has been a safe haven for sharing thoughts (both uplifting and sad), well-wishes, and even prayer. It has flourished with encouragement. We all have welcomed one another from the far reaches of the earth. If everyone on this planet we call home treated one another as we have in this little poetic garden, there would be no need for the English words of “hate,” “war,” or “racism.”

Even though I had to leave much sooner than I wanted, it felt wonderful knowing Walt was still tilling and tending. Of course, I completely understand his own need to close the gates. Perhaps there will come a day when we can together open them again. In fact, I feel it in my core that it will happen. Until then, thank you all for being a part of my life that makes me smile with every remembrance. ~Marie Elena


Sorry for the late prompt. It has been a trying time during this supposedly joyous season. Christmas came and went and I never had time to notice. There were no memories made this year; a very sad one in the making. However, that is not to say that I have no Christmas memories. Pick a memory you have made over time and make it the basis of your poem.

Please check back on Wednesday for an important announcement!



Wrapped in foil;
red and green,
a plastic saxophone
in the key of C,
a toy to make sing
and bring joy to a boy
musically inclined.
Never mind it was only a toy,
I did enjoy the sound it made,
a serenade to my ear
and for all who could hear.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014


You are George Bailey. Write a poem of the world without you. Draw on your accomplishments and tell the effect not achieving them had on you or people around you. Tell how your life has touched another in some way. Be boastful. Be self-deprecating. But remove yourself from the equation that solicited the life you have lived.




The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

French in origin, and likely dating to the thirteenth century, the triolet is a close cousin of the rondeau, another French verse form emphasizing repetition and rhyme.



In a melancholy mood, Sinatra soothes.
His dulcet tones come smooth and hypnotic.
One of life’s salient truths,
in a melancholy mood, Sinatra soothes.
Sitting in my listening booth,
Frank’s “magic” is quixotic.
In a melancholy mood, Sinatra soothes.
His dulcet tones come smooth and hypnotic.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik