Poetry

Echo?

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I have no good excuse for this bit of ridiculous whimsy. I was just in the mood to write some cinquain, and when I put my fingers to my keyboard, this is what came out.

MOUNTAIN CLIMBER edited for blog

 

ECHO

I stood
On mountain top
And called out loud, “Hello,
I’m looking for my one true love;”
Then heard:

“Hello,
I’m looking for
My one true love.”  — Oh, joy!
My heart was sure I’d found my love
At last.

And so
I called again
And once again reply
Came loud and strong; that lovely song
Came back.

So then
I walked around
But stopped on ev’ry side
And called my heart’s desire and heard
Reply.

Alas,
I spent the day
And grew quite hoarse in throat
But never found the love who called
To me.

 

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Daily Post Prompt: Polish

| Sandra Pavloff Conner
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My Polish grandmother & my dad

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I am Polish and Bulgarian,
Scotch, and Cherokee.
It took a lot of different folks
To make me into me.
But I don’t waste time digging
Back into my family
To find my roots and focus
On separate ethnicity.
I’m just so very grateful
I was born where I could be
A citizen of U. S A.
American — that’s me!

 

Participate in today’s prompt.

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Daily Post Prompt: Reprieve

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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WOMAN AT COMPUTER - HAPPYYesterday I got to thinking
What a mistake I’d be making
To proceed with plans of taking
Vows of marriage to that man.

So I pondered how to fix it —
How I could politely nix it —
It befuddled me, I’ll admit.
Could not come up with a plan.

But an e-mail came today,
And now everything’s okay.
For reprieve he’s made the way:
He eloped with his friend Stan.

Whew!

D. P. Prompt: Reprieve

 

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Coffee Thursday 5/25/17

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

I’m getting a late start on this week’s “Coffee Thursday” post, and I actually missed last week altogether. Life is just too, too busy right now. In light of that fact, I think I’d better make this week the last “Coffee Thursday” for a while. Maybe when things slow down a little, I’ll bring you some more posts on the “elixir of life.”

In the meantime, here’s a happy “coffee thought” for you.

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“Oh Taste and See That the Lord Is Good” (Psalm 34: 8)

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good;
His blessings, they are rich and warm.
His presence gives forth an aroma so fresh;
A weary soul He can transform.
He’s just like a good cup of coffee — it’s true;
Quite stimulating and upbeat.
Robust and bold, yet quiet and smooth,
Like coffee, He’s the perfect treat.

Yes, I know I took a little liberty with this scripture, but I happen to know God has a sense of humor too.

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Reflections in Cinquain – Daily Post Prompt

| Sandra Pavloff Conner


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My photo of the moon overlaid with a little graphic art

REFLECTION

Moon glow
Comes from sun glow:
Burning orb of daylight
Shines covertly on reflector
At night.

Moonbeams
Come from sunbeams
Stretching, reaching to touch
Reflecting face of ev’ning moon:
Night light.

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It’s So Great to Be in Love?

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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.

 

 

Coffee Thursday 4/27/17

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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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!

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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

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

 

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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

| Sandra Pavloff Conner


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

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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?

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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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

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

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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’

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

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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