Bird song
Called me from dreams
To greet the day at dawn,
With scent of dew on morning lawn:
Incense.
~
River,
You fascinate.
My soul delights to sit
And feel the rush of life within
Your heart.
~
Mountain
Of solid rock,
Unmoved by elements,
Yet helpless in man’s drive to build
Highways.
~
“`
This weekend I dug into my poetry archives and dusted off a few of my old poems. Thought I’d give them a re-run and some time in the sun. So below you will find a few of my favorites. Of course, “favorites” is a relative term. Some days I like one better than another, and my preferences change with the wind, but — for today — here’s what I have to offer.
IGNORING THE CALL
Middle age is calling me,
But I just cannot go.
I have too much of childhood left,
So much that I don’t know.
Why, I still love to color
And to play with paper dolls.
I still delight in bubble pipes
And bouncing rubber balls.
Ah, middle age is calling me,
But I just cannot go.
I still feel like a coed,
Full of life from head to toe.
Yes, middle age is calling me,
But my decision’s made.
I’m just too young at heart to go.
Middle age’ll have to wait!
~~~
‘THE ANCHOR’S AWAY, AND I HAVE TO GO’
chorus
Heave! – Ho! Heave! – Ho!
Over the rim and into the stow;
The anchor’s away, and we have to go.
Heave Ho, me mates, Heave Ho!
verse 1
I had shore leave, but now ’tis done,
And I must sale at rise of sun,
To join the fight two weeks begun,
Heave Ho, me mates, Heave Ho!
chorus
Heave! – Ho! Heave! – Ho!
Over the rim and into the stow.
The anchor’s away, and we have to go.
Heave Ho, me mates, Heave Ho!
verse 2
I kissed my love and wished her well;
Said, “I must make my way to hell;
To win this war my soul I’d sell!”
Heave Ho, me mates, Heave Ho!
chorus
Heave! – Ho! Heave! – Ho!
Over the rim and into the stow;
The anchor’s away, and we have to go.
Heave Ho, me mates, Heave Ho!
~~~
THE LOCKET
I found a locket nestled ‘neath a tree.
It sparkled, and it twinkle, and it surely winked at me.
It looked forlorn, forgotten, skimmed with dew,
And I felt an intruder as I wondered what to do.
At last I reached and plucked it from the grass.
The chain was fragile – I could tell – and had a broken clasp.
A lovey heart, engraved on back and front,
Showed me it was a gift of love that someone still would want.
I opened it with tender, loving care,
And found, all safe and snug inside, a single lock of hair.
The curly tress was of the darkest brown,
And I felt so entranced by this small mystery I’d found.
But I was in a quandary what to do:
How to locate the rightful owner I had not a clue.
Then finally I thought, “I’ll advertise,
And if the owner sees my ad, there’ll be a nice surprise.”
I tucked it in my pocket, nice and warm,
And, eager to relay my news, I headed quickly home.
I couldn’t help but sing a little song,
So happy I could have a part in helping love along.
~~~
TALL GUY (a poem and a true story)
I know a guy who’s very tall,
Stands six feet, seven inches.
He finds his height a great delight,
An asset in the clinches.
He’s very smart, and that’s a help.
It compensates the strain
Of all the time it takes for blood
To move from heart to brain.
In public he stands proud and straight;
He literally has a ball
When people lean waaaay back and say,
“My goodness, you are tall!”
Height has its setbacks, though. Take clothes:
They must be special bought.
And going in and out of doors,
He must take special thought.
And then there’s dating; it’s a trial:
He’s anxious, Heaven knows,
To hold his partner cheek to cheek,
Not middle chest to nose.
But, still, he sees his height as Heaven’s
Gift — a special gene.
Believes all men wish to be tall,
And with envy they are green.
So happily he struts about,
Looking for that perfect mate.
His only foe the hometown priest,
Who stands at six foot, eight.
~~~
THE BALLAD OF SISTER MARY MARGARET
(Town of Petticoat Ridge, Nevada, circa 1868)
Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down:
I guess you’d say the story’s set in stone.
Our town is now quite famous, and the tourists flock around.
And it’s for sure the credit’s hers alone.
But Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down.
She did wait for somebody else to act.
But since no man among us would move to save the town,
The sister did her duty well; that’s fact.
But Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down:
You see, a bull came charging down Main Street –
Stompin’, snortin’, chargin hard at people all around –
And all the folks made haste in their retreat.
Poor Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down:
She had just finished services at church.
She stepped out to the street; her smile became a frown.
Her gold-rimmed glasses on her nose she perched.
Ahh, Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down:
The bull so wild was goin’ to take a life.
Up came her skirt; her petticoat she ripped it right around:
A petticoat as RED as cherries ripe!
Poor Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down:
The gasps of horror echoed through the air.
For no one – not one single person ever could condone
A nun who wore bodacious underwear.
Sad Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down.
But at her petticoat that bull did charge.
And Sister Mary Margaret taunted him right out of town,
And off the cliff that bull she did discharge.
But Sister Mary Margaret will never live it down.
Poor Sister Mary Margaret will never, never, never live it down.
~~~
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY ???
She walks in ‘beauty,’ like the night,
But morning hours she feels a fright.
She cannot seem to get it right
‘Til she’s worked hours in mirror’s light.
Each day she wakes with cheerful sun,
Then looks in mirror and feels undone.
How can she venture forth for fun
‘Til make-up’s on that weighs a ton?
She struggles to impress the crowd
And hold her head up high and proud,
To make sure she is not a dowd,
But ‘neath the load her heart is bowed.
Because she feels she must comply
With this world’s rampant beauty lies:
“Wear this on lips and that on eyes,
And starve that waist, those hips and thighs.
“Walk tall on heels that are quite frail,
And don’t forget those fingernails.
Stuck on with glue that cannot fail,
All fear of fungus kept curtailed.
“Now bleach those teeth until they shine –
Until your smile the sun would blind.
Don’t button top; wear loose neckline,
So lots of cleavage you can find.”
And on she goes at each day’s light,
So stressed and strained to do it ‘right’ —
To find acceptance in world’s sight,
For deep inside there is a fright.
She fears and doesn’t have a clue,
That deep inside a beauty true
Awaits its chance to make debut,
If she’d but to herself be true.
~~~
Lemons Can Be Beneficial to Your Marriage
I cut up a lemon and ate it.
The peel I did wash and then grate it;
Added it to hors d’oeuvres.
But it got on my nerves:
I was still puckered up four hours later.
So my hubby said, “Let’s do some kissin’,
‘Cause, for sure, some of that I’ve been missin.”
So we smooched ’til he said,
“I feel like newlyweds!”
Now, hubby more lemons is fixin.’
`
(This is the kind of stuff we poets write when we’re straining to find anything else to do in order to keep from doing the work we’re supposed to be doing.)
~~~
I just seem to be in the mood for Cinquain this week. And I guess maybe I’m in the mood for love as well. So it seemed only fitting that I use one to talk about the other.
LOVE CINQUAIN # 1
I wait:
Anticipate.
A smile … a breath … a sigh.
At last his arms enfold me close;
We kiss.
LOVE CINQUAIN # 2
Blind date.
Some butterflies.
But still excitement builds.
We meet; we talk; we laugh; we know:
We fit.
LOVE CINQUAIN # 3
Tears fall.
Hard to believe:
I thought we had it all,
But now I find I loved alone.
He’s gone.
LOVE CINQUAIN # 4
Today
I walk the aisle
And give to my best friend
My hand and heart for all my life;
“I do.”
♥ ♥ ♥
“`
DAY & NIGHT
I wake;
Sunbeams flow in;
They energize my soul.
I rise to meet the day’s demands;
Then rest.
I sleep.
Releasing care,
I snuggle deep and warm.
My dreams drift in and out until
I wake.
~~~
This little limerick is to make up for my more depressing 100-word story earlier today. Whew! Glad I’m out of that mood.
LORAINE IN LOVE
There 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.
~~~
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.
~~~
Here we are again to National Poetry Month — and good ol’ NaPoWriMo. To be honest, April just slipped up on me this time, and I’m pressing to get my poem in. I’m sure I’ll not find the time to write a new poem for all 30 days, but I’m going to go for all the days I can. If you’d like to take part, just follow the link by clicking on the graphic below and go, go, go.
Day # 1’s prompt is to write a poem of negation — describing something in terms of what it is not — or is not like.
My Love Is Not a Knight in Shining Armor
He doesn’t ride a charger sleek and white;
He wears no armor, and he bears no sword.
He never slayed a dragon breathing fire;
Never received a gallant knights reward.
He never rescued maidens fair and sweet;
He never fought a foe with rapier blade.
No maidens swoon to look on his physique.
His hero medals tarnish, and they fade.
No, he’s no knight in shining armor, true.
But he loves me, and that’s all he needs to do.
~~~
Join the fun. Make us laugh — or chuckle — or at least snicker. Give us your idea of what turns over the ‘tickle-box.’ It can be a picture, a story, a poem, a joke, a song, anything you’re in the mood for — as long as it’s fit for general audiences.
Just post on your own site and come over here and paste the link into the “Comments” box below.
Here’s mine:
Mom says I watch too much TV.
And if I do not change,
My body will quite chubby be,
And I’ll have sluggish brains.
She tells me that I need to read,
Study science and math,
And that I need to exercise,
Run up and down the path.
I’d like to make her smile at me
To please her I don’t mind.
But day and night my programs air;
I just have no free time!
But I have promised I will do
My best – some day – she’ll see.
As soon as I have finished with
My programs on TV.
`
(Something fit for general audiences please.)
~~~
Can’t help it. I just have to do a second post for this week’s “Tickle Me Tuesday.” This little limerick story just came to me, and I do hate to keep it to myself. (If you want to participate in “Tickle Me Tuesday,” just follow the link for instructions.)
`
Egg-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!
~~~
It’s “Tickle Me Tuesday” time again. I’ll be running this invitational through March, so there are only two weeks left after today. So if you have any little tidbit that causes a chuckle, a grin, or a belly laugh, you really should share it with us. Post your story, poem, song, joke, picture, or video on your own site and come over here and paste the link to your post in the “Comments” box below. Only two things you need to do: make your post something lighthearted or funny and make it safe for general audiences to enjoy. My offering is below:
A Vessel of Sterling
While browsing antique shops, I made a great find!
Unearthed a rare treasure. Never saw one in kind.
An elegant bowl, with a handle and lid;
Beneath so much tarnish, it’s true beauty hid.
Though black with the ages, I hugged it to me;
I paid the man gladly and danced home with glee.
Polished and rubbed to a radiant glow,
On party buffet my prize purchase would show.
It gleamed and it glowed, holding punch the next day,
When – horror of horrors – I heard a guest say:
“Heaven help us! Is this the best silver you’ve got?
I’ll not drink my punch from an old chamber pot!”
~~~
Sorry I’m so late getting this week’s Tickle up, but I have been swamped with technology problems today. (I’m running way behind on my serialized story as well. But to quote a well-known character in English literature, “The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get.”)
Here’s today’s chuckle from me, and anyone else who has a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh, or a belly roll, just post your funny stuff on your blog and hop over here and paste your link into the “Comments” box. Keep it all safe for general audiences, and that’s the only rule you need to follow.
SPACED-OUT EXCUSES
“Johnny,” said his teacher, “where’s your homework?”
“Uh …” the child replied, “well, it’s like this.”
Then calling on his great imagination,
John recited his excuses like a list.
“I saved my book report until the last day
Because I wanted it to be so fresh;
I wanted to review again my story,
And to type it so it wouldn’t be a mess.
“But when I went to print it out on paper,
The printer said that it was out of ink.
So Dad said he would go to Wal-Mart for some,
And that he would be back in just two blinks.
“I waited and I waited with my printer,
And as the hours ticked by, I fell asleep,
But did not wake until the sun disturbed me,
So quickly from my chair then I did leap.
“I went in search of Dad, but found him nowhere.
My mom said he had called to say goodbye.
He’d seen a spaceship land not far from Wal-Mart,
And with those spacemen he’d agreed to fly.
“He said it was a chance for rare adventure,
And he was sure that you would understand,
And promised that when he returns with more ink,
My book report will be a story grand!
“I know you tell us life’s a great adventure;
Of opportunities to be aware,
So I was sure you’d want to wait ’till next week,
To have my book report to read and share.”
~~~
There’s a new challenge going around our little WordPress family that’s all about love. Three of my blogging friends have made me aware of it, and two of them have specifically suggested that I should take part. So how can I say no — especially when I shout so loudly from my header that I “love” words. Anyway the three ladies whose blogs introduced me to the challenge are Gilly at Lucid Gypsy, Jane, at Making it write, and Terry at Through the Lens of My Life. Thanks to those ladies for wanting to share the love.
I think the challenge originally included nominating others to take part, but I’m not going to put any of you on the spot and cause you to feel obligated. (That’s why I no longer participate in blog awards that have rules.) But I do encourage any of you readers who like challenges to jump in and share your own thoughts on love. The rules are that you use ten sentences, but each sentence must contain only four words, including the word love. The 2nd step is to include a favorite quote about love.
Now, I confess that I broke the rules, because I used 11 sentences (Lines 7 and 8 make up the same sentence, and I have one extra.) But, you see, I had this little poem going, and I needed the extra sentence to make it come out just right. So maybe I broke the law, but I also shared a little extra love.
Here’s my little love ditty:♥ ♥ ♥
“Many waters cannot quench love. Neither can the floods drown it.”
Song of Solomon 8:7
~
Are you ready to grin, giggle, or just feel good? That’s what this little challenge is all about. We share posts that are happy, light-hearted, funny, or downright hilarious. Make it prose, poetry, picture, graphic art, a joke, a song, a video ……. Whatever your heart desires. Post on your own blog and hop over here and paste your link into the “Comments” box so we can visit your site and grin, giggle, and feel good with you. Just please remember the site is for general audiences.
Here’s my contribution this week. I sneaked into Life Is Worth Living by Vera Faye Wallace (my mom) and snatched this little ditty.
~~~
The Happy Wordcrafter 