daily poetry: the last time

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “The Last (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “The Last Cookie,” “The Last Roll of Toilet Paper,” “The Lasting Impression,” “The Last Word,” and/or “The Last Starfighter.”

I guarantee this won’t be the last prompt of the month. So get your poem on today, and I’ll see you again tomorrow. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

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the last time

Mothers sometimes lament
in contemplative moments
you often don’t know
that something you do
is happening for the last time

There was a last time I carried you
you were at least six
and loved to be carried
although of course you could
get around perfectly well by yourself

There was a last time I tied your shoes
although this, too, was something
you were content to let me do
even after you had the skills

In Montessori education
there’s a philosophy of
”help me … do it myself.”
It is one to which
you did not ascribe

You were happy for help
or to have me do it for you
so you could focus on
whatever lit up your imagination
and the latest idea you had
and how to bring it to fruition.

The last time:

something is commonplace,
usual,
everyday,

until it isn’t.

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There was a last time I touched you,
this time in stark awareness it was the last.
I held your hand
and tried in vain to store up
a lifetime’s worth of handholding.

I used up all the Kleenex in the room
and all the light inside me
and walked out in darkness

the last time.

on growing up in a small southern town

Two weeks! That’s how much poeming we’re about to complete. Big deal. For today’s prompt, pick a state (or province, territory, etc.), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. A few possibilities include New York, California, Ontario, Bavaria, and Champagne. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Feel free to bend this in any direction you wish. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

North Carolina

I had just turned 11
when we moved from Washington state
to rural northeastern North Carolina
for my dad’s maybe-three-year assignment
in a town that was home to
the world’s largest pulp and paper mill complex
and very little else to speak of

We weren’t from around there
but right away I learned
to say ma’am and sir
and y’all
and found my place
in the Girl Scout troop
and Miss Anne’s dance class

And three years came and went
but we stayed

I lived there again for one short summer
once I left the state for college, but
North Carolina remains my home.
It’s where I’m from.