Poetry

The Christ Is Born and All Is Well

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

madonna-child-color-negative

Man walked in light – God’s light of life –
And joy beyond the words to tell,
With his Creator, fellowshipping;
Peace and harmony excelled.

But then a shadow breached that light,
And two lies did the serpent tell:
“You can’t trust God,” his sly suggestion.
“Eat, and you’ll be god yourself.”

So from his God man turned his love –
Obeyed the enemy: rebelled –
Turned from the heart of his Creator
And ate. Then sounded his death knell.

Alas, the Father’s heart was saddened,
But knowing far ahead, full well,
That Satan’s ploy would hit its mark,
And man against Him would rebel,

He’d strategized before all time
A perfect plan that would dispel
That sin and all its evil fruit,
And see the serpent bound in hell.

He then revealed His mystery
To prophets so they would foretell:
“The time will come when God Himself
Will pay the price sin to dispel.”

Then came the day of grace unbounded.
Choirs of angels’ anthems swelled:
“The Babe has come; the ransom tendered.
The Christ is born, and all is well.”

Still today we shout the message.
Gospel words tell and retell:
He’s come to give His blood to save us.
The Christ is born, and all is well.

***

Daily Post Prompt: Flee

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I’ve shared this particular poem previously. Nevertheless, I’m serving it up again because as soon as I saw today’s prompt from the “Daily Post,” this poem popped into my mind.  There’s no way I could write something new today that would fit the theme better than this collection of limerick lines.

TRAIN FROM BACK - OLD GOLD

ESCAPE

Well, my journey by train has begun.
As for tickets, I don’t have a one.
With police pressing in,
And this shackle ’round my shin,
All I packed was my trusty old gun.

In the baggage compartment I’ll hide,
And my time I will patiently bide.
When we make the next stop,
From this train I will hop
To the next and continue my ride.

It’s a journey to freedom I take.
And I can’t stop; there’s too much at stake.
Since I’m guilty as sin,
In a court, I can’t win,
But I’ve vowed future crime to forsake.

~~~

Daily Post Prompt: Panoply

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

IRKSOME ASSIGNMENT

MAN'S FACE, FINGER ON CHINI must write a post using “panoply.”
But I’m stuck and a little confused.
For it isn’t a world I use commonly,
For with snobb’ry I feel it’s infused.

I did look up its definition
Just to make sure I wasn’t quite wrong.
Now I’m even more sure it’s pretentious,
For it’s synonym list is quite long.

Now, I’m likely to use the word “trappings,”
Or “collection,” or even “array.”
And in reference to a suit of armor,
Well – “armor” is just what I’d say.

I find this prompt most aggravating.
It offers no useful rewards.
To describe just how irksome I find it
Takes a literal panoply of words.

 

To take part in the prompt, visit Daily Post.

 

 

~

 

 

 

Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Relax (with Cinquain)

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

Exif JPEG

Relax
And read a book.
Release your mind from toil.
Let soul take flight on words with wings.
Renewed.

 

Visit Daily Post to participate.

 

 

~

Cinquain for the Tired Poet

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

man-dreaming-writing-blueI’m tired
But want to write.
Eyelids are drooping now.
But nobly I choose to pursue
My craft.

Let’s see:
What theme to use?
My sleepy brain says, “Well,
It must be something simple with
Short plot.”

I know:
I’ll write a verse.
I’ll keep it short and sweet,
With twenty-two nice syllables:
Cinquain.

 

~~~

A Thanksgiving Collection

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

The past 3 or 4 years, I have written one or two Thanksgiving poems in November. This year, I thought I’d just post the whole collection together.

`

Ah, Thanksgiving, How I Love You!

cover-photo-eating-edited-sharpened-w-textAh, Thanksgiving, how I love you!
Golden crowning jewel of Fall,
Beacon of warmth and camaraderie,
Sending glad invitation to all:

“Gather to worship; gather to visit;
Gather to focus on all that’s worthwhile;
Feast from tables resplendent with harvest;
Feast on the love in a touch and a smile.”

All the year’s labors weigh heavy upon us.
All the world’s problems seem bigger by far.
But out from that wearisome struggle you call us,
And laying it down, we run to where you are.

And whether in cottages, mansions, or churches,
Community buildings, or tables in parks,
We gather with gratitude full – overflowing;
To the Giver of blessings lift voices and hearts.

Then we return to life’s pattern awaiting.
Filled up with joy, we set off on our way,
Warmer and richer and kinder in spirit
For pausing to celebrate Thanksgiving Day.

~

 Healing Holiday

Thanksgiving Day is just around the corner,
And I am set to have a lovely time.
First I’ll make a jaunt to church and, kneeling down,
I’ll thank the Lord for all His blessings kind.

And then I’ll journey farther to meet kith and kin.
We’ll hug and laugh and tell each other news.
Then next I’ll help dish up the yummy treats in store;
So many dishes, all from which to choose.

Then after eating more than I could ever need,
And going back again for one more pinch,
I’ll sit by fireplace warm and cuddle little ones,
And soon we’ll be asleep; it is a cinch.

Oh, my, how dear Thanksgiving is to all of us.
It gives us one whole day when we can part
From all that pulls and presses us and wounds us sore,
And give ourselves to healing, loving hearts.

~

What’s For Dinner?

turkey-with-sign-save-turkeysI spot him there, behind the barn,
A full-plumed, regal bird.
He looks up, straight into my eyes.
I speak no single word.

It’s happened thus, in passing years —
At least for two or three:
Each mid-November I’ve set my mind;
He’s been there to greet me.

Now, lifting his head in challenge strong,
He gobbles loud and long.
I lower my gun and heave a sigh:
To kill him would be wrong!

So, wrestling with my double mind,
I trek home to my wife
To explain why, once again this year,
Ham will greet the carving knife.

~

THANKSGIVING

Thursdays come and go; in every month there’s four or five.
Hardly anyone’s attention they demand.
Ahhh, but there’s one month when Thursday is a special day.
November’s got the situation well in hand.
Kinsmen, young and old, along with neighbors, best of friends,
Stop their normal labor briefly and, instead,
Gather close, declare a feast, and celebrate all day
In churches, homes, and civic halls – wherever led.
Voices glad and warm with love fill up the heart and soul,
Inviting those attending to lay burdens down.
Neath autumn’s healthy harvest, tables beckon us – so come;
Giving thanks to God, now let us gather ’round.

~

A Lesson in Thanksgiving

 

pilgrims-landing-edward-percy-moran
Edward Percy Moran

Pilgrims reached the blessed shore,
But bitter winters were in store.
Death and anguish played their part.
Still, ’twas with a thankful heart
That they gathered to expound
Upon the God whose gifts abound.

We, who in their footsteps trod,
Though they lay beneath the sod,
Now do take the lesson learned
From their lives, and, in our turn,
We prepare to thank and praise;
To that same God our anthems raise.

And just as they faced troubled days,
Through hardships grievous made their ways,
So, now, such grievous times we face,
That ne’er before have taken place.
Yet from their lesson we take heart
And lift our songs with grateful hearts.

We will not bow to troubled thoughts,
Nor in the throws of fear be caught,
We have too rich a heritage.
So with forefathers we engage
To praise and sing and laugh and play
And celebrate Thanksgiving Day.

 

~~~

The Pot Calling the Kettle Black

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

lime-red-swatch-w-hate-textAccusations running wild and free:
“Why, Donald Trump old Satan’s ploy must be!
He hates, discriminates, and means to smite
All those who like strange sex or are not white.”

But wait – I’m hearing none of that from Don.
He’s spoken only peace since he has won.
But, on the other hand, I’m hearing hate
From liberals all around – in such a state!

For every day since Don was made our choice
I’ve heard this harsh, discriminating voice.
It’s spewed out venom, vitriol most vile.
And it’s coming from the Liberals; that’s their style.
It seems they’ve been the seat of hatred all the while.

 

 

~~~

Daily Post Prompt: Hyperbole

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

woman-megahoneHyperbole: It’s just exaggeration.
But not with the intention to deceive.
It ‘s just to make a point or emphasize,
A unique way to help someone to see.

To say the man I love is ten feet tall,
To say I’ve walked a million miles today,
To say when she stands sideways, she’s invisible –
That’s speaking in a hyperbolic way.

Of course, some people use it far to often.
And sometimes it’s as bad as old cliches.
But now and then hyperbole is perfect,
And adds a touch of ‘bling’ to what we say.

 

To participate in the challenge visit the Daily Post.

 

~~~

Prompt Nights # 30, Autumn

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

Instructions this week include choosing one of five pictures provided by the prompt hostess and writing a poem or prose piece based on that photo.  However, my poem was actually prompted by one particular tree near my home, so I’ve used a picture of it here instead of one from the original challenge post.
To take part in this challenge visit “A Dash of Sunny.”

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MY HEART BELONGS TO AUTUMN

Leaf by tender leaf,
I watch this stately monarch
Dressing up for fall.

Gold, russet, yellow,
And brilliant red — her choices,
For she loves them all.

Hour by passing hour
The change begins subdued but
Then bursts into flame.

I revel in the site.
My heart belongs to Autumn.
It’s joy calls my name.

The troubles that have pressed
Throughout the year now ending,
Though they’re present still,

Are vanquished by the power
Of Autumn’s golden glory
To subdue all ill.

My heart belongs to Autumn.
Indeed, it always will.

~

 

Prompt Nights # 29: Loss & Madness

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

sad_face-sweat-greenThis week’s prompt delves into the various aspects of loss and the volatile  emotions it can cause — and considers the possibility that there is a strong connection between loss and madness. I’m offering two pieces for this challenge. The first is a poem that considers loss without the madness — although making the decision to let the wrong person go from our lives could very possibly help keep us from going mad. The second piece is a work of prose that I actually posted in the past in connection with an entirely different challenge, but it seemed to fit this one so well that I thought it deserved a second bow. It does include a degree of madness connected with loss

DECISION

Let him go.
It’s time to admit you’ve been a fool
And take possession back of your own soul.

At first encounter
You saw the good was mixed with bad
The right choice then by now would make you glad.

But foolish child,
You were intrigued, so closer crept
And threw out counsel that you should have kept.

“Do not touch.”
Three words so easy to understand;
Unguardedly, you opened heart and hand.

It’s harder now,
But still you have to make the choice.
And this time listen to the wiser voice.

You call it love,
But such a love that’s unrequited
Just leaves the soul living life one-sided.

Even if
He claimed to share the love you feel,
The danger of forbidden fruit is real.

Let him go.
And pray the feelings soon will die.
To hope for more would be to live a lie.

Let him go.

SECOND THOUGHTS

I’ve thought about you countless times this past year. I sometimes wish I hadn’t been so hasty to make the decision. There are days when I wake up thinking how good it would be to still have you beside me for a few hours. And, of course, every time I make the curried chicken casserole I think about you. It’s downright lonely in the kitchen these days. And I don’t even cook most of the time. I do carry-out.

I don’t order from our favorite Chinese place, though, and I don’t go in there anymore because they almost always ask me, with sadness in their eyes, how I’m doing now that you’re gone. That gentle couple who own the place really got to like you. I think you were probably their favorite customer during the three years we ate there. I miss the Chinese place, and some of the other haunts we made our own. But I’m finding new interests and new friends, and things will work out.

But — sometimes — on a summer evening — when the windows are open to the gentle night air and someone’s laughter floats across the breeze, it reminds me of your laugh. I think that’s one of the things I miss most about you. You were so abandoned when you thought something was funny. You never held back.

But then, as well as I can remember, you never held back on any emotion. And that fact, of course, is what finally led me to make my decision. You just couldn’t seem to hold back on your feelings for all the other men in your life — even my best friend — a man I’d thought would have my back through thick and thin — especially after all we’d been through together in the war. But you were just too much for him. He fell just like all the others. And so I made the decision.

Yeah — as I consider it all again now — I know it was the right thing to do. It put a stop to the hurting for me and for all the rest of ’em too.

The only thing is that — on nights like tonight — with the fragrance of the roses you planted drifting in from the garden — and the radio playing an old song we used to dance to — well — I have to admit to myself at least — I do feel just a little sorry that I poisoned you.

 

To participate in this week’s challenge, visit “A Dash of Sunny.”

 

~~~

Down Limerick Lane

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I just got to thinking about limericks today and decided I’d gather up several that I’ve offered on here over the past couple years and toss them together for a fun re-post.

THE WAY TO A WOMAN’S HEART

BAKER WITH ICING
Now, Henry the baker was shy.
But he wanted to marry Miss Fry.
So with icing he wrote
On her cake this brave note:
“If you’ll have me, then I am your guy.”

But Miss Fry was too shy to say “yes.”
So that still left poor Henry a mess.
But he baked some eclairs
To show how much he cared
And delivered them to her address.

Now this courting went on for a year.
And each day Henry thought her more dear.
Though she gained fifty pounds,
In the end she came ’round,
And their wedding day, at last, is here.

~~~

TRAIN FROM BACK - OLD GOLD

 

ESCAPE

Well, my journey by train has begun.
As for tickets, I don’t have a one.
With police pressing in,
And this shackle ’round my shin,
All I packed was my trusty old gun.

In the baggage compartment I’ll hide,
And my time I will patiently bide.
When we make the next stop,
From this train I will hop
To the next and continue my ride.

It’s a journey to freedom I take.
And I can’t stop; there’s too much at stake.
Since I’m guilty as sin,
In a court, I can’t win,
But I’ve vowed future crime to forsake.

~~~


LEG-SHACKLED

BALL & CHAIN FREE CLIP ART
freeclipartnow.com

Nathaniel was feeling quite blue.
To his Darling, he’d been quite untrue.
Though he hadn’t been caught,
With his conscience he fought,
And was trying to think what to do.

He could keep it a secret from her.
If she questioned him, maybe defer.
But if someone else told —
Some old gossip quite bold —
Then his Darling would toss him for sure.

What to do, what to do — so distressed.
It was not that he loved Darling best.
But she had lots of dough,
And his coffers were low.
So perhaps he should crawl and confess.

But, alas, he had let time expire.
Darling charged in, her eyes full of fire.
Six feet tall and quite round —
Nearly three hundred pounds —
She immediate repentance inspired.

She said, “Nate, dear, you should be ashamed.
Your unfaithfulness has caused me pain.
But I know how to fix
You and your bag of tricks.”
Round his leg she did fasten a chain.

Now Nathaniel is faithful and true.
After all, there’s not much else to do.
For his Darling learned fast:
If she wants love to last,
A girl does what she just has to do.

~~~

 

PLMBER2 - dumb plumberPLUMB REJECTED  

 

There once was a girl, name of Summer
Who fell madly in love with her plumber
And each day down her drains
Shoved ridiculous things,
But he never caught on. What a bummer.

 

 

~~~~

LORAINE IN LOVE

TRAIN ENGINEER CARTOON -- OPEN CLIPARTThere once was a girl named Loraine
Who was wild for engineers of trains.
They could be short or tall;
She just loved them all;
Having one for her own was her aim.

Now, the guys who drove trains all agreed
That Loraine was no prize; no indeed;
So precautions they’d take,
Each to make his escape
When Loraine for a date came to plead.

Then a young engineer came to town
Who was clueless when she came around.
He became so beguiled
When right at him she smiled,
That right then on one knee he went down.

Oh the wedding was really a beut.
On a honeymoon now they’re enroute.
As they sit side by side
Engineer and his bride.
Down the tracks, at full throttle, they scoot.

There’s a moral to this little tale:
That a woman in love never fails.
If she’s made up her mind
And she’s true to her kind,
It’s the end for those poor, helpless males.

~~~


WOMAN FREAKED OUT - EGGSEgg-Head

I just can’t get over her hair.
Such a fright everyone has to stare.
She discovered online
That two raw eggs and wine
Would give luster beyond all compare.

So she mixed up the potion exact,
With a pinch of vanilla extract,
Now she smells nice and sweet,
But the eggs, they got beat
When her hair dryer got in the act.

So she’s walking around everywhere
With scrambled eggs now in her hair.
A good lesson she’s learned:
That a girl could get burned.
So with online advice, just BEWARE!

 

~~~

Daily Post Prompt: Generous

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

pppylove
The generous soul is rarely focused inward.
He constantly lifts eyes in search of one to bless.
And when he recognizes need or pain or emptiness,
He reaches deep within to find a way he can address
And help eliminate the need or the distress.
Exacting and expecting no reciprocation,
He simply pours out of his generousness.

Daily Post Prompt: Generous

 

~~~

Daily Post Prompt: Fragile

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

lovers-on-flowers

It was a fragile moment:
I trembled on the brink;
Offering my whole heart —
Won’dring what he’d think.

But in that fleeting moment,
He grasped my hands in his,
And bowing close, with sweet breath,
Blessed me with his kiss.

To participate visit here.

 

~~~

Daily Post Prompt: Plop

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

Today’s Daily Post Prompt reminded me instantly of a poem I originally wrote for a writer’s group challenge in September of 2012. But since it fits today’s prompt perfectly, I see no reason not to resurrect it and let it shine again now.

big-rain-plops-cropped-for-background1.jpgI AM A RAINDROP

I am a raindrop.
I’m falling quickly and cannot stop,
So I’m looking for place to plop.

I don’t know where I’d like to be,
But I definitely don’t want to land in the sea.

You see, if I were to land in the sea,
It would be so anti-climactic for me;

I would lose my personal identity,
Even I would no longer recognize me.

No, I must find some place solid instead.
Perhaps on a daisy in a flower bed,

Or a plant so parched it’s almost dead,
Or the page of a book that’s being read.

I must decide as fast as I can;
I’m falling quickly toward some folks on the sand.

So many are out there just getting a tan.
Hello, there, little bald-headed man!

His head sure was tempting, but then a breeze blew,
And drove me off course; what am I to do?

Oh, I see it! I see it! My target’s in view!
Get ready; get ready; I’m landing on you!
Plop!

 

 

^^^

Daily Post Prompt: Cake

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

chocolate cakeFIGURING IT OUT

I like to have my cake and eat it too.
That makes me sound a spoiled brat,
Quite through and through.
But I’m not really spoiled, just practical.
And firmly I believe if we desire a thing,
Investing all our heart into imagining,
We’ll come up with a plan to make our dreams come true.
Why, my solution’s simple, really – quite the thing:
I’ve learned that if I plan ahead and bake me two,
It’s possible to have my cake and eat it too.

***
It’s even better with coffee.
COFFEE MAN - RED,YELLOW

Check out Daily Post here for details about participating.

 

 

~~~