WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Vivid
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Yellow sun, yellow moon,
Yellow ribbon on yellow balloon;
Yellow crayons for coloring,
Yellow bird that chirps and sings.
Yellow squash ripe on the vine,
Yellow daffodils — all mine.
Yellow hair, with cheeks so pink,
Yellow lemonade to drink;
Yellow duckies, yellow chicks,
Yellow grapefruit freshly picked;
Yellow butter drips and drops
From tender, yellow corn-on-cob.
Yellow curtains, crisp and bright,
Yellow anti-bug porch light;
But yellow has its ugly side:
Yellow fever; could have died;
Yellow-bellied, yellow streak,
Yellow-livered, backbone weak.
And sometimes yellow can’t be seen:
It hides in blue and turns to green.
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YELLOW (Erasure Version)
New Title: “Getting the Green Light”
Sun,
moon,
bird that chirps and sings.
Daffodils –
all mine;
lemonade to drink.
Bright light,
sometimes yellow,
turns to green.
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SNOWCHILD (Original Poem)
When I was a child, I thought as a child,
And snow was a thing so delightful.
From school we were free; we got wet to the knees,
And our mom’s day was thrown all off schedule.
But now that I’m grown, I must do on my own
All the chores Mom and Dad used to dread:
Stock up food by the loads, drive on slippery roads,
Shovel snow, and repair that old sled.
Now I look with dismay at the skies leaden gray
As I trudge to the store for supplies.
De-icer and salt sell out fast with no halt.
I need new boots to tread on the ice.
The wind from the north is bitter and harsh,
But my temperature, still it is rising;
I am in a foul mood, for I see nothing good
That can come from a snowstorm arriving.
But then the flakes start, and I feel in my heart –
Watching white, fluffy, wonderful, wild
Filling all of my world with such beauty unfurled –
That in truth I am still just a child!
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SNOWCHILD (Erasure Version)
(No new title necessary)
I was a child;
snow was delightful.
Now I’m grown;
I see nothing good
from a snowstorm.
Flakes start, and in my heart,
I am still a child!
~~~
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Sunrise pictures are my very favorites, so here are just a few of the “early bird” shots I’ve managed to capture — and every one of them from my own front porch. I even included some honest to goodness early birds at the tail end. To participate in the challenge, visit the Daily Post.
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Today NaPoWriMo asked us to write a poem that is a conversation. It sounded like a fun thing to do, but I didn’t have any time to sit down to my computer and create one. However, thinking about the challenge brought back to my memory a story I did a couple years ago that focuses on conversation in a bird family. So I pulled it out of the archives, dusted it off, and re-posted it. True, it is not a poem, but it’s so doggone cute maybe no one will notice.
“Mama!”
“Mama … we’re hungry!”
“Yeah, we’re hungry.”
“Just hold on, kids. I’ll check on Dad’s progress.”
“Honey, I thought I’d better come and see if you’d found anything yet.”
“Not yet. Those dang Cardinals grab everything in sight!”
(Sigh) “I know. They think just because they’re so splendid to look at they should get the best of everything.”
“Hey, look — two worms! I’ll grab ’em.”
“Oh, Honey, look out! Kitty-Kitty’s comin’ at you at 2:00!”
“I see him, but if I fly off, I’ll lose the worms to the Bluejays.”
“What can we do? Oh, wait. I see Barn-a-Bee on the roses. Call him to come help.”
“Hey, Barn-a-Bee, Kitty-Kitty’s crouched to attack. Help me, quick!”
“On my way. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ….”
SMACK!
“MEOW!!#%$!!#$%!!”
“Great hit, Barn-a-Bee! Right on the nose. Kitty-Kitty won’t be back in this direction for a while. Thanks, old pal. I owe you one.”
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Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge: Write a Fourteener — a poem on any subject but having seven iambic feet. Join the fun. There’s still plenty of time to get into the rhythm of writing a poem a day in honor of National Poetry Month. Click the link above to visit the main site and get the easy rules.
Since iambic heptameter lends itself particularly well to narrative poems, I thought I’d go that route.

SOLITARY SENTRY
The giant Oak had reigned supreme o’er farmer Webster’s woods.
But there’d been talk of late that ‘neath those woods lay soil quite good.
And then one day bulldozers came and men with churning saws,
The wood did spew; trees fell – not few – into bulldozers jaws.
The giant oak shook to his roots; his life he held quite dear.
And closer as the enemy came, he trembled hard with fear.
To be cut down and sawed into – the thoughts he could not bear.
And oh the shame – to be transformed into some wimpy chair.
But when the dozer charged his way and scoured to left and right,
It passed him by and left him there, his roots still clinging tight.
Soon all around had been laid bare: a sorry sight to see,
But then one morn, before the sun, came planters bearing seed.
And week to week, with gentle rain and warmest, friendly sun,
The seeds did sprout and then did bear their harvest one by one.
Now mighty Oak stands solitary sentry o’er the field,
And, season after season, hungry folks receive its yield.
And farmer Webster often stops to rest beneath Oak’s shade,
And blesses God for giving land and food for which he’d prayed.
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I love birds. They are so full of life, and we learn so much from them. I have a whole family living in my Blue Spruce tree again this winter, and I think they are Mockingbirds again. I had Mockingbirds two years in a row, but the following year, they didn’t come. Then this past year, I had Cardinals nesting there, and now (I think) another family of Mockingbirds — but I can’t tell for sure. Anyway, this group of pictures is a collage of several kinds of winged friends who came to visit today when I shared a box of crackers. What fun.
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