So today is 12-12-12. If you remove the second 2 from 2012, you have today’s prompt: 201. Or rearrange the prompt number and you have 012. What does it all mean? I don’t know. But numbers can be fun. Or misleading. Which can make them useful and dangerous. Like words.
For today’s prompt, write a numbers poem. Your poem can count down to something or focus on a specific number (like maybe “12″). You don’t have to do math–just incorporate numbers in the poem.
Here’s my attempt at a numbers poem:
“Counting”
I wake up with “One” by U2 stuck in my head,
turn over on my pillow three times before
getting in the shower for five minutes. Sick
of Wednesdays, I drink 7 ounces of coffee
mixed with an eighth of whiskey. By nine,
I’m headed to the office though I only plan
to stay there until around ten.
*****
Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer
*****
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Numbers
Eleven months,
four unreturned phone calls,
two text messages,
and one email later,
I am 100 percent
ready for love.
Huh. i coulda sworn i’d posted mine, but it isn’t here. So here it is ANYway!
MAGIC NUMBER 9
I was excited for months—
months 1 through 8, to
be exact. 9 was coming!!
9 was the number, my
magic number. Born
on the 9th day of the 9th
month, 9 was calling my
name! And in the year
of 2009, I would have
the perfect birthday,
of 09 09 09. I spoke
excitedly to family,
who looked at me
blankly. I spoke to
friends, who smiled
politely. I put it on
my Facebook, where
I got nothing, really.
BUT, for me, it was
perfect.
Say it with me:
oh nine
oh nine
oh nine.
See what I mean?
Almost Burnt
Thank goodness
our poems and comments
can now expand
on our keys
like marshmallows
to all who are hungry
for sweetly sticking
kisses of camaraderie.
I’m proud
to be a Peep.
Cute one!
Testing, testing, one, two, three….
Mine went right through too, and to the top. (Do we like that better than new posts on the bottom? I’m still deciding.) Also, several of the members’ icons aren’t showing up for me, but my own and about one-third of the others are.
I’m so glad the comment problem is fixed now, Robert. Merry Christmas!!
Merry Christmas, indeed!
Did the comments Flip… Newest First, Oldest last ???
Posted on the 1st attempt !!!
It seems to be doing exactly that … flipping the order. But our comments on comments are going right where they belong, and posting on the FIRST TRY! YAY!
If this works well, I’ll be one happy peep!
WOOHOO!!
!!
WOOHOOTOO!
WOOHOOTOYOU!
ONE WEEK
Seven days to Christmas,
and we wait anticipating
with our red and green unfurled.
Christmas is a grand celebration,
but it’s not the end of the world.
At least not according to the Maya!
It has my seal of Waltproval, Robert! A good thing.
Still not working?
Testing…testing…
Testing…testing…
how to talk for a minute
and not use the letter A
count to one hundred,
of course,
but try not to describe it
as easy or hard
just look at from this red delicious
apple’s perspective
no, not the tree
it came from,
or might have been
or the one your mother said
would grow in your stomach
if you ever ate the whole
thing
Oh, Johnny A
get your gun
Dis apple’s propagating us
and we are all so domesticated
golden delicious
pink lady
mock cornking
of the fruit kingdom
Let me count the ways
Is there ever more than snake fodder
migrant laboring shiny golden mythical
wax replicas on my grandmother’s
table
one, two, three, four
count to one hundred
you’re almost there
Old one that fits:
No one
Can write a poem using two
Hands, a sheet of paper and three
bricks. It’s been tried before
And failed. Utterly failed, though they wrote five
Lines of a magnificent ode. When they came to line six
Their bricks fell down like six
Or seven angels falling into one
Hell. I suppose they climbed out again; five
Angels sat on Purgatory’s ledge waiting to
Leap into their promised Heaven, waiting for
Peter to jangle his keys three
Times, once more than a postman, three
Times more than the Devil would ring, six
Times less than an idiot who stands before
The gate scratching his belly with one
Hand under his armpit, the other scratching to
And fro, like a hand stuck between nine and five.
The fourth sheet floats to the floor and sheet number five,
Clean and bright, bears your graphite markings. Sheet three
Remains crumpled into a sphere, a ball, a make-shift hockey puck to
Be knocked about like an errant can or pick-up game of six
Ball players divided into three teams, each one
Wanting to kick the piss out of the other four
Players. We’ve been here before
At this juncture, this crossroad, this five-
Cornered intersection waiting like ducks for no one
In particular, waiting like stooges, to play a three-
Handed game of bridge, waiting to capture six
Points with one trick, waiting for the rain to
Fall. It falls, but it feels like Hell, like Hell falls into
A river of sticks, a river of thorns, a river of plastic for-
Cepts right before they cut you open, their greedy eyes on six
Figure incomes, on second jets and five
Spades to a deck. They honestly believe they need three
More cars to reach fulfillment, to reach Nirvana, to reach One.
Place six bricks on every plank, plus two
Sheets of your One poem on every two by four
Then count to five twice; you’ll win enough points to be three.
Sum Poem
I’m not so good with numbers.
Words make much more sense to me.
I’m not so good with numbers,
and I wish they’d let me be.
I’m not so good with numbers
and math is not my friend.
I used to be a fan of (yum!) pi,
but turns out, it never ends.
I’m not so good with numbers.
Perhaps that’s why I’m in this fix:
I need 25 hours in my day.
Or maybe 26.
.
When Jethro Counts in Oughts
“That’s cause I “grad-ge-ated”
the sixth grade,
ma’am.
Only took three years.”
I reckon
no matter how old we are
we want to reach the next number
because the alternative
is too frightening
to cipher
and it may take
a jug
or two
to make us see
it different.
One, Two, Three, Forever
ONE single phrase will keep the
TWO of us together. These
THREE words are
FOREVER. I Love You.
By Michael Grove
Two men and one deity
Sheltered in a tent
Began the soundcheck of doom
one-two-two-check
Four thousand years of progress
And we have it down pat
one-two-three-check
Until today when we push the buttons and turn the dials
We crank up the volume testing
one-two-check
one-two-check
one-two-check
In nine days the show begins
And Moses’ census will finally
Be completed
one-two-two-one
check
x
Running Numbers
Brooklyn, New York, 1950’s,
baby boomers were babies.
A go-between from bettor
to bookie, side line for him.
What are the odds? Bettors
begged, and believed. Horse
running in the fifth at Aqueduct,
ten to one odds, inside tip,
easy money. Poor bettor,
consistently disappointed
that there is no sure thing,
but they held hopes
that made adrenaline pump.
haha… I should of known it would be numbers today, Robert…
As Easy as Counting
I’ll show you how to knit this scarf! she says
excited, not looking at my eyes lifting
to count ceiling tiles, dust motes, tables,
salt and pepper shakers. Who knits at table?
Count six and turn your needles to loop,
so easy! she says, and I say uh-hhuh
three times, fast, as she clicks along
at two thousand stitches an hour.
It’s as easy as counting! Everybody
can count! she says, assuming things
that are not in evidence. A child
at the next table drums on his high chair.
Is he laying down a beat, Morse code,
rhythmicly adding and subtracting
fruit loop treats? I order 3 drinks.
There’s just us, she says, giggling.
Sorry, I say, did you want something too?
I count first to ten and breathe, calculating
the seconds until happy happy happy hour,
as she shows and tells, assuming my interest.
I make a mental list of books I want to read,
time (which is my life) flying, turning to her
finally to say, I’m thinking of raising worms.
Didn’t Darwin think they could count?
HAHA! “sorry, I say, did you want something too?” There’s nothing like that “assumed interest.”
Lessons in Fairy Tales
Children’s tales always
Counted on numbers,
Beginning with the title
To clue in readers;
The Three Little Pigs;
Snow White and the Seven Dwarves;
Goldilocks and the Three Bears;
And that doesn’t include those
Numbers implied within text.
A girl with a hood,
Trumped by wolf disguise,
Rescued by axe-man,
Counts three in story.
Jack and Jill, always ran
As two children with a task
For one lone pale of water,
And those billy goats always
Counted as three, plus one troll.
Hansel and Gretel were two,
But count the witch—three again.
Goldilocks gave her lesson
With threes in bowls, chairs, and beds.
And lessons began with this,
“Once upon a time…”
Followed by action,
And characters bold,
Tension on each page.
Grimm humor won out.
Eight
One is for the shining star
Over Bethlehem
Two is for His virgin mom
And her precious lamb
Three is for the Trinity
Father, Son, and Ghost
Four is for the Angel’s song
Holy Heav’nly Host
Five is for the carpenter
And his virgin wife
And the wise men from the East
Searching for the Life
Six is for the animals
Eating manger hay
Seven’s for a place to rest
On the Sabbath day
Eight is for the shepherd men
And the sheep they kept
And left to hurry on to see
Where the baby slept
Counting
I have OCD.
That doesn’t necessarily mean
that my house is always clean.
Not even 99% of the time.
BUT.
It does mean
that I count—everything.
Not that I will
remember just 1%
of the things I count.
If I do something often
enough (maybe at least 20 times),
like walking from the back
door of my church
to the front door of my
apartment house (207 steps)
sometimes it sticks.
Maybe it all started back
in the high school
marching band. To keep
the routines straight,
the rule was
8 steps for 5 yards.
We could all do that
in our sleep. I
have tried to stop
counting my footsteps
from my door to the
elevator (24 by the way).
Before I get half-way
there, I stop and count
the remembered sounds
of my negligent footfalls.
I live on the 15th floor,
and of course, there
is no 13th floor.
But if I am not watching
the numbers as they
count off with the
pings, I am wrong in
my count at least 50%
of the time.
Does this mean that
I compulsively touch the
alarm clock before
I get into bed?
No, it just means
the counting counts. Ellen Knight 12.12.12
It’s a bit religious so I will only post a link to it, but it’s the first thing that came to mind when you mentioned numbers.
http://wp.me/p2Xft0-6C
One
One is the number
of God.
It takes
the magic
step
of creation
moving
away
from nothing
to something.
It is being
undivided.
It is only
and
everything,
the switch
in a computer
that spells
out mind.
One
is the
number
of God.
This site says I already posted the poem “Christmas Twelves”, but I don’t see it in the comments. As such, I’m just going to post a link to it on m y blog: http://pubwrite.wordpress.com/2012/12/12/poem-christmas-twelves/
Showing Your Work
“Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.” –Wizard of Oz.
Work the loose threads to the underside of the garment,
weaving the tiny needle in and out, catching stitches,
trimming close, she insisted, as we learned to sew.
The underside should be as need as the outside.
Clean as you go, washing up your bowls and spoons,
putting them away, wiping up the water droplets
from the sink as bread bakes and sauce thickens.
Leave no evidence of the process. Like magic.
Practice your penmanship, she insisted, making us
rewrite our letters on clean pages once we decided
what to say, leaving no stray marks or strike-throughs,
as if our words always flowed effortlessly.
Sitting at the kitchen table with us, watching
us work through long division, algebra, geometry,
she puzzled over our instructions: Show your work.
Where, she asked, is the mystery in that?
I’m also having a problem commenting and posting my poem. Here’s a link to my attempt: http://www.maxiesteer.com/2012/12/the-game-wednesday-poetry-prompts-201.html
COUNT
If I am hooked on counting,
Then I have questions, three.
Does that count as a hobby?
Or just as OCD?
You say you counted only two,
When I had promised three?
Well, I just don’t know what to say.
Guess you can’t count on me.
This is an older poem of mine. I might write another this evening. But don’t count on it.
HERE’S TO ANOTHER LAST DAY
It’s 12-12-12, a rare, symbolic date.
But will our earthly world end, as some claim?
My dogs and I are on the trail to fate,
or Fleming Meadow – maybe they’re the same.
What countdown? Two-one-ZERO. Here’s a game-
trail – seven dainty deer prints as a clue.
Who says, “there’s nothing here to see”? A lame
excuse for tedium. Sky’s rainy-blue.
This present world, this fall morning wondrously new.
That one comment took about a million tries before it actually went through. YES!!
“Life” by Susan Ulberg
Once, I thought that life would be easy.
But twice I have been proven wrong.
Three mistakes later I see,
it just takes four seconds
or five years to change.
Six dark secrets,
seven lies.
Is this
fate?
I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW
(a piku)
Hindsight is
true
twenty-twenty.
Supposedly,
the universe is compiled numbers, stacked on stacks,
each 1 and 0 responsible for building:
the epic black hole in the center of the universe;
the star that exploded before the black hole was there;
the infusion of lights bouncing off the crystalline waves;
the tea spilled on the countertops of restarurants;
and the respiration between our cells and the purely saturated oxygen.
According to these numbers,
the world will end in 9 days,
the amount of sodium one should ingest should not exceed 2000 mg a day,
and the average age is 76.
According to these 0s through 9s,
hair color is frozen in a sequence,
love is a recognition of pattern and
quelched with an enzymatic math problem.
We are 239,000 miles from the moon,
travelling at 1000 miles per hour,
yet we are invariably light years from the person next to us.
Our language is broken down into bits and bytes,
our conversation converted into 0s, 1s, and 2s.
When we stare at the man on the bus, in the car next to us,
the woman passing us by on the grocery store floor,
filling our nostrils with her everpresent musk,
we see a tight concentration of 9 digits, separated by a minus sign,
and the code that has still not been broken
depsite all our best efforts to
crack it and spill the golden yolk.
These numbers, perhaps they have become our
new ‘how do you do’
and we no longer need to say it.
We will instead pass by one another,
shake the millions of cells that make up our hands,
and say a definite 110010111000011.
That will be the way of the world.
Finally!
This will not post for some reason I keep getting A duplicate post message but My Poem will not appear.
December is here Christmas is near
The Twelve, Twelve, Twelve, year
It is finally here
Like a blue moon, it’s so very rare
It does not happen every year
The twelve days of Christmas
They are finally here
But these particular twelve
They are extremely rare
Not because Christmas is so near
In this tri twelve very rare, year
Of this twelfth month
Of this Twelve, Twelve, Twelve, year
But because this Tri Twelve
Is a very special year
There are five Sabbath Saturdays
For worship and for rest
Even God himself is happy
This twelfth December month
For he has five days of rest
But the best is not yet
For following five Sabbaths
Comes a pentagon of Sundays
With its fools ball and pig skins
We can chant, scream and cheer
For the team we hold dear
But then comes sadness
With the five dreaded Mondays
Which bring on five, five day work weeks
Of this tri twelve December
Of this tri twelve year so very rare
But even the five dreaded Mondays
Thought they be very sad
Come with more fools ball
To brighten the five Monday nights
Yes this twelve, twelve, twelve
Rarely seen year
With its five, five, five
Will not be seen again
For eight hundred twenty three years.
Arranging
At 4 PM I walk
down one flight of stairs
and carry two boxes
from one room
to one basement.
I go back to get one more load
to go down the steps once more.
I’m taking eight steps
each time down
and each time up.
While working an odd job
for a friend
I keep track of my time.
So far it’s been
five and a half hours.
“Life”
Once I thought that life would be easy,
but twice I have been proven wrong.
Three mistakes later I see,
it just take four seconds
or five years to change.
Six dark secrets,
seven lies.
Is this
fate?
An Attempt
Once I thought that life would be easy,
But twice I have been proven wrong.
Three mistakes later I see
it just takes four seconds
or five years to change.
Six dark secrets,
seven lies.
Is this
Fate?
“Countdown to Destiny”
Ten days ago, I woke with a start,
I could feel the soul of the world;
I could feel destiny squeezing my heart,
for with every pulse came a third–
lub, dub, dub – an additional heartbeat within
not a child, not a parasite: fate;
and after the ninth beat, the third palpitation,
I knew that I had a date with destiny.
Two days would pass, and it’s eight days ’til midnight,
I was certain my life would end.
For a week, seven days, a whole half of a fortnight,
I shivered and trembled and counted my friends.
But, try as I might, even lying down early,
I’m wide-eyed until 6:00 AM.
And, count as I must, it is now I know, surely
that time is the only friend I can count on.
Five minutes to go, and I’m holding my breath,
I’ve already put on my suit;
I know in my soul that my life will face death,
and death is the change, absolute.
I stand aloft four feet above all the schism,
three seconds before I am done,
“Now thee wed”, is said to my heart’s rhythm,
I am over when two become one.
Success that time – it seems to be hit-and-miss.
12/12/12
A dozen months, a dozen days,
a dozen years into this century,
this is a date for the superstitious,
or those who read too much into
the significance of numbers.
Play the lottery, get married,
stay in bed, or have a normal day,
which is most likely to happen.
It’s just an alignment of numerals,
a symmetry to please the eye.
it hasn’t shifted Earth off its axis,
there’s no meteor poised to strike,
so relax. After all, we still have
nine more days until the Mayans
say the world will really end.
Good one, Bruce. I am keeping two fingers crossed.
I’ll try again. Can’t get a post up. Love this Bruce. I am keeping two fingers crossed.
12/12/12
A dozen months, a dozen days,
a dozen years into this century,
this is a date for the superstitious,
or those who read too much into
the significance of numbers.
Play the lottery, get married,
stay in bed, or have a normal day,
which is most likely to happen.
It’s just an alignment of numerals,
a symmetry to please the eye.
it hasn’t shifted Earth off its axis,
there’s no meteor poised to strike,
so relax. After all, we still have
nine more days until the Mayans
say the world will really end.
Robert, I wonder if the fact that you have only two posts so far is because others are having the same porblems as I am. The first time I try to post a comment, the blog seems to accept it but it doesn’t appear, and when I try to re-enter it I get the “duplicate posting” error. This is the third different comment I’ve tried to enter – let’s see if it shows up.
Yes. WD needs to do whatever they must to fix this problem. It’s been going on too long, and isn’t fair to Robert, who has worked hard to build a nice poetic community here.
I just got news that WD finally took care of the issues we’ve been having!!
I’m thrilled as I echo the sentiment that Marie just stated.
Thank you, Robert!
Smiles to all and fingers crossed for easy posting.
Went through FIRST time…that’s a first!!
Yay!
Numbers Game
“Pick a number from 1 to 10.”
She is smiling, eager, hops from
One foot to another. She considers
Herself a big girl. She is in third grade
.
“Now add 10. Oh, and don’t tell me.”
I remember this game, It’s probably
As old as arithmetic itself.
“Subtract the number you started out with.”
We go through a few more commands
Of addition and subtraction.
The idea is that you end with the same
Number you started with. Life can be
Like that, if you are lucky. Most of us
Lose things along the way.
Back to my niece’s numbers game. I
Have subtracted another 10. Now is
The time when I end with my original number.
“6” she cries.
‘Why, yes,” I lie.
“See! See! Mathematics is easy!”
I give her a hug and she runs away
6 will be my lucky number. I have
forgotten the number I had at the beginning.
I like how deep the undertone is to this game. Loss, luck, and the magic of making it up as we go along is hard to express in so few words, but ta-dah! you did it, Marian.
“Countdown to Destiny”
Ten days ago, I woke with a start,
I could feel the soul of the world;
I could feel destiny squeezing my heart,
for with every pulse came a third–
lub, dub, dub – an additional heartbeat within
not a child, not a parasite: fate;
and after the ninth beat, the third palpitation,
I knew that I had a date with destiny.
Two days would pass, and it’s eight days ’til midnight,
I was certain my life would end.
For a week, seven days, a whole half of a fortnight,
I shivered and trembled and counted my friends.
But, try as I might, even lying down early,
I’m wide-eyed until 6:00 AM.
And, count as I must, it is now I know, surely
that time is the only friend I can count on.
Five minutes to go, and I’m holding my breath,
I’ve already put on my suit;
I know in my soul that my life will face death,
and death is the change, absolute.
I stand aloft four feet above all the schism,
three seconds before I am done,
“Now thee wed”, is said to my heart’s rhythm,
I am over when two become one.
Wow, I’m never this early!
12/12/12
A dozen months, a dozen days,
a dozen years into this century,
this is a date for the superstitious,
or those who read too much into
the significance of numbers.
Play the lottery, get married,
stay in bed, or have a normal day,
which is most likely to happen.
It’s just an alignment of numerals,
a symmetry to please the eye.
it hasn’t shifted Earth off its axis,
there’s no meteor poised to strike,
so relax. After all, we still have
nine more days until the Mayans
say the world will really end.
It
seems
only
fitting that
a numbers poem be
of the Fibonacci form, yes?