Love Qualms? – Daily Post Prompt

HEART QUESTION MARK

 

Got any qualms about falling in love?
Well, take it from me – an old lady.
There’s just nothing like it when it’s the real thing.
It’s super, and I don’t mean maybe.

If you and your mate share a genuine love —
The kind that puts each other first —
It makes all the difference in living this life,
When things are at best or at worst.

There’s comfort and coziness, smooches and hugs
And help with decisions galore.
And though aggravations creep in now and then,
It’s still good to share all the chores.

So if you’ve been given a chance to share love,
Don’t wonder and waver and wait.
Cast off your qualms and lift up your head;
With courage embrace your soul’s mate.

 


To participate in today’s prompt visit Daily Post.

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It’s So Great to Be in Love?

AMOEBA MAN UNDER LOVE WEIGHT

Oh, I wish I were in love.
How I love to be in love!
It’s so great to be in love —
Until you’re dumped.

Oh, but love is so exciting,
With emotions all igniting,
In the favored one delighting —
‘Til you’re dumped.

I believed in sweet romance,
Loving arms in which to dance,
Titillated by a glance —
Then I got dumped.

Now, I’m not so sure of love,
It’s so hard real love to prove,
And if I don’t fall in love —
I can’t get dumped!


Perhaps I should let my faithful readers know that this poem is not based on a true story. Actually it grew out of a brief experience I had today when I turned on the car radio and heard a song from my high school days. It took me instantly back to a restaurant where I was enjoying some time with a guy I “thought” I was semi-in-love with. He never did allow the relationship to develop into anything serious, and for a short time, I was unhappy. However, by 5 years later, I was thanking God that I never got into anything more serious with him than a mere friendship. I do pity his wife a good deal. But as I thought about that experience, I just sat down to write a poem about how we tend to fall in love with love sometimes, and — well — this is what I ended up with.

 

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My Poetic Sin


QUILL & BOOK FOR PROFILE SHARPCinquain
It is my sin:
To take the easy way.
No rhyming and no meter strong.
Guilty!

But still
I plead my case.
It gives me more than joy.
It disciplines my use of words:
Aids skill.

So now,
My guilt assuaged,
I’m free to give myself
To writing even more cinquain.
Hooray!

 


I discovered recently that I have written so much cinquain over the past two years that I have enough to do a book of nothing but original cinquain.
So, I just might.

 



 

The Scent of You – Daily Post Prompt

WOMAN WITH SCENT

The scent of you —
When first I wake to greet the day —
The warm, intoxicating pleasure of your fragrance touch:
It triggers tiny conflagrations deep inside of me
That spark a thousand more responses and then rush
To touch my mind. And then my senses come alive —
Each one:  to taste, to hear, to touch, to see, to smell.
It is your smell that lingers, captivating all of me —
Throughout the day, constantly reminding me —
The sweet scent of the only one I’ll ever love so well.


♥ ♥ ♥

Daily Post Prompt

Coffee Thursday 4/27/17

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A short Coffee post today. It’s a really busy time for me, but I do still love my coffee. Don’t forget: you’re invited to post about coffee on your site and paste your link into the “Comments” windows below — anytime this week.

Enjoy!

Exif JPEG

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I joined the queue outside the door,
Just after 6:00 a.m.
The morning sun had chased the fog,
But warmth was pretty thin.
My breath formed steam each time I spoke,
And pockets warmed my hands.
I yearned for coffee, hot and strong,
A large cup — maybe Grande.
We inched along with moderate speed,
And soon I stood inside.
The fresh aroma brought a smile;
It’s tantalizing tide
Mingled with the cozy sounds
Of orders glorified:
Venti Frappucino – Tall
Mocha Latte – Grande.
Americano, Cappucinno,
Really, there’s no end.
At last, I stood before the bar;
The young barista frowned.
He know I’d order coffee – plain.
No whip, no froth — just brown.

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Coffee Thursday – 4/6/17

 


 

Exif JPEG

I normally prefer a mug for coffee.
Although I’ve drunk my share in Styrofoam.
And when I’m traveling for work or pleasure,
I take a travel cup with lid from home.

A cup that’s big and roomy has its assets.
It lets me warm my hands around it’s bowl.
Unfortunately, it also has its drawbacks.
For long before I’ve finished, coffee’s cold.

Of course, that’s not a problem in this tech world.
For microwaves are everywhere these days.
And I just pop my cup inside to warm it.
Then sipping merrily, go on my way.

I’ll drink my brew from old-time percolator,
Or from a modern Keurig brewing pot,
Vending machines and fancy coffee houses,
And my drip coffee maker hits the spot.

I’m not too hard to please, and I’m a purist,
Just black with nothing added that’s bizarre.
Just please don’t bring me Starbucks or Gervalia,
And, for heaven’s sake, no instant from a jar!


Wouldn't you like to share your love for coffee with us? Pictures, poetry, prose, quotes .... whatever your favorite form of expression. Post on your own site and then hop over here and paste the link into a comment window below.

 

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Daily Post Prompt: Cusp


WOMAN AT WINDOW LOOKING BACK


THE CROOKED CUSP OF LOVE

I was just on the cusp of deciding
When everything went so awry.
How could they be so hateful to me?
I can’t do a thing now but cry.

I’d dated Sebastian on Mondays,
And Thursdays were his days as well.
Then Trevor had Wednesdays and Fridays,
And Raymond thought weekends were swell.

We’d gone along happily – I thought,
Until they demanded I choose.
Well, you can imagine my chagrin
At having them give me such news.

I told them I’d have to have some time
To make a decision so hard.
But every time I thought I’d made one,
I couldn’t quite settle my heart.

It’s been only six months – this process;
Each day I did several hours spend.
Now I’m just on the cusp of decision,
But they’ve run off and married my friends!

 


Daily Post prompt: cusp

 

 

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Daily Post Prompt: Meaningless

MAN WITH BIG EYES


MEANINGLESS WORDS

Meaningless words are so absurd.
The most absurd I’ve ever heard.
Now, I don’t mean to be a nerd;
And insult I have not inferred.
But, really, when I’m quite unstirred
By words whose meanings are deferred,
My reading seems like riding herd
On crazy cattle who’ve been spurred.
All sanity and sense are slurred
By meaningless words that are absurd.


You can take part in today’s prompt by visiting Daily Post

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Daily Post Prompt: Minimal, you say?

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MOUNTAIN CLIMBER edited for blog

Minimal, you say.
Is that like – just enough?
Does that mean there’s no need to go
Beyond the basic stuff?

Minimal, you say.
Do barely what’s required?
Exactly what I saw in print
The day that I was hired?

I see thing differently.
To me the minimalists
Are shirkers, slackers, slothful souls.
Who live just to exist.

To live a life worthwhile
Requires a finer sense.
One must in all endeavors strive
To offer excellence.

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*If we make a habit of doing only the minimal that is required of us, we end up living a minimal life.*


To participate in today’s prompt visit Daily Post.

 

 

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Daily Post Prompt: Label Cinquain

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LABEL
Labels:
We all wear them.
Some of them we give ourselves,
The rest come from the judgment of
Others.

I’ve learned,
As I’ve matured,
To focus on the good
And just ignore derogatory
Labels.

Life’s short,
And can be sweet,
But only if we learn
To quite ignore all labels that
Oppress.


 

Visit here to participate in the prompt.

 

 

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‘Now, Students,’ said the teacher, ‘I’ll Tell You What This Poem Really Means’

 


BOOK_52 - BLUE - FAMOUS POEMSOh, that I were a poet.
I would share thoughts so sublime.
I’d create lovely images,
In meter and in rhyme.

I’d delve my inmost being
And discover truths so pure.
Then I’d carefully release them
Into words that would endure.

Oh, that I were a poet –
Not just one who writes in verse.
But to be a genuine poet
Is both blessing and a curse.

Poets true to their great calling
Must give forth all that’s inside.
Every piece they write’s revealing,
Secret selves they cannot hide.

For in halls of education
Teachers who are “in the know”
Will interpret all that’s written
And out of proportion blow.

If the name below the poem
Is one famous as a bard,
Then his simple words and pictures
Are by education marred.

So – I’m glad I’m not a poet.
It’s much better to be free
From high-brow interpretation
And write verse that’s just plain me.

 


I figure I can get away with this slam against most literary interpretation since I spent many, many years of my life as an English and Literature teacher. Standard curricula encourage and often require teachers to help students learn to “interpret” poems. Occasionally, there is a real underlying meaning to the words in those stanzas, but more often than not, they mean exactly what they say and nothing more. In the last several years as a high school teacher, I tried to help students develop a love and an enjoyment of poetry rather than pushing them to try to find hidden meanings in every piece. Life is best when we keep it simple. So is poetry.

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The Sky Is Falling???


chicken-little-illustration-pd
Illustration for “Chicken Little” during early 1900’s.

I think of Chicken Little
When I hear the world is doomed.
It would seem the sky is falling,
And there’s nothing left but gloom.

Disaster by disaster,
It’s reported in the news,
And mega-media stars now
Wailing out their liberal blues.

Seems it’s all the fault of one man
No one thought could ever be
Sitting in the oval office
Working hard to keep us free.

Life was out of balance
And it was an ugly sight:
Illegals, Gays, and Muslims
Were the only ones with rights.

Now suddenly we’re sitting
At a table that’s been turned,
And once again the average guy
Can get the rights he’s earned.

The honest business owner
Whose invested all he’s got
Again can have the freedom
To serve customers or not.

And the Christian workers
Who’ve been faithful employees
Have the same rights now as Muslims
For religious liberties.

And little helpless babies
Resting in their mother’s womb
Now have someone voting
That the womb is not a tomb.

Liberals, they are crying,
Running hateful, wild, and scared.
Chicken Littles all,
Warning that we should beware:

Running through the streets
Crying over what is past.
For them the sky is falling.
They have lost control at last.

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