Poetry

NaPoWriMo – Day 5 – A Cinquain – ‘Invitation’

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

NAPO 2013 BUTTON

Another first for me. I have written prose and poetry all my life, but I don’t remember ever writing a Cinquain.  That’s what I love about these challenges: They keep me out of my comfort zone.

According to the definitions I’ve found, the American Cinquain has 5 lines with the following accent pattern:
Line one has 1-2 syllables, 1 accented
Second line has 4-5 syllables, 2 accented
Third line has up to 6 syllables, 3 accented
Fourth line has up to 8 syllables, 4 accented
Fifth line goes back to 1-2 syllables, 1 accented

Below is my Cincquain. To join the fun visit here: http://www.napowrimo.net/


SUNNY OCEAN AND PALM

INVITATION 

The sea
Beguiles me so:
Its hue, its scent, its song,
Its movements that caress my soul.
I go.

~

NaPoWriMo – 2013 – Day 4 – A Series of Unlikely Explanations

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

NAPO 2013 BUTTON

Day 4 of the NaPoWriMo challenge offers a very unusual prompt.  Here it is in the words right from the NaPoWriMo site, in  host Maureen Thorson’s words:  “Recently, I read an article about the Scottish science fiction writer Iain M. Banks. His books often have spaceships in them. And those spaceships have extremely odd, poetic names. Like:

Prosthetic Conscience
Irregular Apocalypse
Unfortunate Conflict of Interest
Gunboat Diplomat
Very Little Gravitas Indeed
A Series of Unlikely Explanations

So your challenge for today is to write a poem with a title drawn from one of these spaceship names.”

Now, the list of spaceship names on the site is much longer, but I stopped with “A Series of Unlikely Explanations” because it is the one that inspired a poem for me. Since the title is borrowed from a science fiction writer, I kept the science fiction theme as well.

You’ll find the poem below, and if you want to take part in these fun challenges for National Poetry Writing Month, just visit this site:
http://www.napowrimo.net/


SPACESHIP CARTOON - MY PHOTO EXPLOS

A SERIES OF UNLIKELY EXPLANATIONS 

“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 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 ’til next week,
To have my book report to read and share.”

~

NaPoWriMo – 2013 — Day 2 — The Pretty Kitty Tale

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

NAPO 2013 BUTTON

Well, I’m duly embarrassed because I’m still running a day behind. I missed yesterday’s poem, but I will definitely write two today. The one below is in response to Tuesday’s prompt to write “a poem that tells a lie.”  It’s more or less a tall kitty tale.

Striped_skunk (1)The Tale of the Pretty Kitty

Mary Lou was very pretty,
And she had a pretty kitty.
It was black with two white stripes,
And of its smell her folks did gripe. 

But Mary Lou just loved her pet,
So it was with such great regret
That she agreed to have him fixed,
And have his smell completely nixed.

But during surg’ry, kitty died,
And Mary Lou, she cried and cried.
But every night in spirit form
Her kitty did come back to home. 

Poor Mom and Dad could not explain,
The smell that came each night again,
But Mary was content to know
Her white-striped pet still loved her so.

~

Join the challenge to write 30 poems in 30 days. It’s not too late to start.visit this link:  http://www.napowrimo.net/

photo courtesy wikipedia: http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archivo:Striped_skunk.jpg

WordPress Daily Prompt: Twenty-Five — A Poem of 4 Vowels

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

(Here’s the link to the challenge: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/03/04/daily-prompt-25/)

A B C BLOCKSA Poem of 4 Vowels

Sometimes I write too long.
Sometimes I write too short.
Sometimes I write to make a point.
Sometimes I write for sport.

Now WordPress challenged me
To write a post that’s strange.
Cannot be done the easy way.
I have to make a change.

They say only twenty-five
Of letters are allowed.
And if I’m brave they then insist
That I leave off a vowel! 

So in this little poem,
One vowel I’ll avoid.
I hope it won’t be sorely missed,
And my good name destroyed. 

Let’s see, what can I choose?
There’s only five to start.
Oh, my, this is a challenge real.
WordPress, please have a heart! 

Okay, I’ve made my choice.
So happy I can be.
The vowel I’ve chosen to ignore
Lives between ‘T’ and ‘V’.

~ ~ ~

A Cardinal Sits With Me

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

CARDINAL - HOLLINGSWORTH - BFPA Cardinal sits with me at end of day.
It is a bleak, unhappy time,
And I have lost my way.

He seems content to stay a while and rest,
And my front porch is cool with shade,
Sun moving to the west.

On other days I’ve seen him flit and fly
And labor quite industriously
For food that caught his eye.

And then he’d pick at wings and clean and preen,
Then dart away and back again,
Quite nervous did he seem.

He’d change his stance and cock head constantly,
Not holding still a moment long;
He agitated me.

But, suddenly, this eve he’s come to sit.
As if he knows my sorrowful plight —
That I am in this pit.

And now and then he sings aloud his song.
But when he stops to rest a while,
For much more do I long.

I’m sure his day is done; he should head home,
But here he sits beside my chair,
Just so I’m not alone.

His beauty, I have finally come to see,
Is unsurpassed: his ruby hue,
Wings black-edged perfectly.

In truth he is a masterpiece of life:
Each part of him a sculptor’s dream,
Down to his beady eye.

A good half hour he’s stayed and felt at home.
And looks right at me now and then,
To say, “You’re not alone.”

I sigh and realize I am content.
I close my eyes; begin to smile.
This is what Jesus meant.

He urged us to behold the birds of air,
And take a lesson from each one
About His love and care.

“Yes, Jesus, I’m at peace in You at last.
This little bird you sent to me
Has now fulfilled his task.

So take care of him, Lord and keep him strong,
And send him out to other souls
Who need to hear his song.”

Then opening my eyes, I seek my friend.
But he has flown while I have prayed —
His mission at an end.
~

[“Look at the birds of the air! They don’t worry about what to eat — they don’t need to sow or reap or store up food — for your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are.” Matt. 6:26 TLB).]

“Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t worry! You are more valuable to Him than many sparrows.” (Matt. 10:30-31, TLB).]

 

 

~~~~~~~

WordPress Daily Writing Prompt — Cupid’s Arrow

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

WordPress has challenged us today to write an Ode to something or someone we love, in honor of Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t in the mood to write anything serious, so I opted for light-hearted and decided to write an Ode to My Little Red Car. Hope it adds to your Valentine’s Day fun. (And please don’t tell my little red car that I’m not “serious.”).

Exif JPEG

Ode To My Little Red Car

Oh, My Little Red Car, you’re a beauty.
Like a jewel, you glimmer and shine.
You look great in daytime or nighttime.
And I’m so proud to say you are mine. 

You are what people call fuel efficient,
Which means you don’t guzzle the gas.
And e’en though you are small and quite humble,
You can zoom with the best when I pass. 

You’re an expert when it comes to parking.
You know just how to squeeze into place,
And you get out of tight spots quite nicely,
Never leaving, a scratch, nick, or trace.

Though tiny outside, you’ve room inside.
I don’t have to bow head or scrunch knees.
And when transporting all my belongings,
Your convertible seats aim to please. 

I just tool down the road in full pleasure,
Knowing we are a beautiful sight.
And I know that in all kinds of weather,
Your equipment will handle it right. 

What a joy you are, Little Red Buddy.
And my heart knows that you feel the same.
We’re a team, you and I, car and driver,
And to keep you forever’s my aim. 

Oh, it’s true that I used to love big cars,
And I never had planned to go small.
But, My Little Red Car, you have stolen my heart;
You’re the best car I’ve owned above all.

~ ~ ~

You can take part in the challenge by visiting the WP challenge page here:
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/02/14/cupids-arrow/

 

 

Love Letters: 574 and counting

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

ROW OF HEARTS - SEPIA - FLOW RIGHT

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
. . .
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passions put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
. . .
And if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”

(Sonnet # 43, Sonnets from the Portuguese, Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

As I type the words onto this page, the month of February, the ‘Month of Love’ is in full swing. Valentine’s Day – and all the trimmings! Yes, whether we’re in the mood or not, we are going to be surrounded all month by reminders that it is a good thing to love. This article is my attempt to take a look at two of the world’s greatest lovers and learn what they have to teach us on the subject.

First, let me lay just a little foundation from “The Book.” God’s Word says all of the Ten Commandments of Jehovah are fulfilled in living our lives in genuine love. It also says that fear is cast out of our hearts and our lives by love. And, most important of all, it tells us repeatedly that the God we serve is Love. He’s what it’s all about, and He’s the source of all genuine love. But when the Word talks about love, it’s referring to much more than just an emotion. Certainly, the emotion is important – and extremely satisfying. But the love that really makes a difference in this world is love that does something.

Love, according to the original language of the scriptures, is the fulfilling of a duty or a responsibility to another – whether to God or to the people in our lives. It works good toward another person whether it ‘feels’ something or not. The truth is that feelings of love – like feelings of anger, happiness, hurt, etc. – come and go. But the act of loving another person is fueled by that deliberate intent of the will to do them good. Like faith, real love is more of an action verb than a noun.

I’m grateful that in my life I have known a great many people who love in this active way. But every time I ponder the subject of love – and especially around Valentine’s Day, when people are prone to send little ‘love letters’ to each other in the way of commercial Valentine cards – my mind turns to two particular lovers of the past who knew and experienced the power of love to change people’s lives completely.

Poets Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning lived one of the most powerful and life-changing love stories ever experienced by human beings. Much of their poetry, especially Sonnets from the Portuguese, describes that love and the power it had to overcome enormous obstacles, and to vanquish debilitating sorrow and hovering death. While the best remembered and most often quoted lines from all of those sonnets are the words, “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,” the truth is that some of the most riveting portions are Elizabeth’s descriptions of how that love destroyed death and renewed her life. In Sonnet VII she says this:

“The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink
Was caught up into love and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm . . . .”

In truth, it was that love that literally saved Elizabeth’s life and gave both lovers many happy years of marriage and fruitful writing that blessed the world for generations. It also gave them a son, whom they loved dearly.

But prior to their marriage, Elizabeth and Robert courted, primarily by letter, for a period of 20 months. During that 20 months, they exchanged a total of 574 love letters. Think of it: 574 love letters! In 20 months, that is an average of more than 28 letters each month. Never running out of ways to say “I love you,” and never growing tired of manifesting that love openly.

Have you, dear readers, experienced the joy of seeing that love gives life to those who need it? My Valentine’s wish for each of you is that you will experience that reality.

And, by the way, does the person you love know without a doubt how you feel? Why not take advantage of this ‘Month of Love’ to make sure?

~ ~ ~

WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge: Character

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

The challenge is to describe a person in our life so that he seems real to the reader. I recently described a friend of mine in rhyme, so I thought perhaps I’d share that piece, in the hope that readers would enjoy a poetic take on this challenge. And, yes, this guy really does exist.

Tall Guy

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:
His 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 — proud — 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 the perfect mate,
His only foe the hometown priest,
Who stands at six foot, eight.

~ ~ ~

To take part in this challenge, visit here:  http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/02/11/weekly-writing-challenge-characters/

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups — Week 76 — ‘Beneath The Surface’

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

This week Julia gave us a word prompt for our 100-word challenge:
“… beneath the surface …”

100 WORD CHALLENGE LOGOIf you’d like to participate in this weekly challenge, you can visit Julia and get all the rules at this link:
http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week76/

My imagination led me in the direction of poetry this time, and I found that it’s much harder work to get poetry to come out right with such a short word limit. But it was fun trying, and I managed to make it in 102 plus Julia’s 3. 

BENEATH THE SURFACE

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;
Beneath the surface, silver glory I could see.

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!”

~ ~ ~

Snowchild

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

(a poem by Sandra Conner)

I originally wrote this poem about a year ago, when snow was predicted for our area. Today, we are under a BLIZZARD warning, with snow falling fast and furiously second by second, and I am re-posting this poem in an effort to remind myself that “it isn’t really so bad after all” —– Yeah, right!!!

The truth is that my family and I have been praying fervently for a reprieve from what forecasters are expecting, because what has been predicted cannot be good for anyone. Moreover, we have 17 family members trying to get home for the holidays, traveling to this area from the Northeast, the Southeast, and the West — some of them on the road even as I write this. We are looking to the Lord for His mercy to take control of the situation, for the sake of our family and the hundreds of others facing the same problem right now.

Exif JPEG

Exif JPEGI’ve added a couple photos taken through the cheerful perspective of my Christmas lights. The first shot was about 6:00 this morning, and the second one about 50 minutes later. So far things don’t look too terribly bad. We would appreciate the prayer agreement of all our friends out there in cyberspace. In the meantime … enjoy this poem and see if it brings back some memories for you as well.



Snowchild

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!

Tall Guy

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

a poem (and a true story) by Sandra Conner

I know a guy who’s very tall,TAPE MEASURE - LONG
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.

Ignoring The Call

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

a poem by Sandra Conner

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!

Anticipation

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

a poem by Sandra Conner

Coming and going,
To-ing and fro-ing,
Thoughts in a dither,
Stomach aquiver …

Scurrying, worrying,
Phoning, conversing,
Weighing last doubts,
Last chance to bow out …

Checking all pockets,
Fastening lockets,
Rosebuds and bouquets,
Fragrant, sublime haze …

Guest in their places,
Smiles on the faces,
Music on swelling tide,
“Here Comes The Bride.”

Bored

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

a poem by Sandra Conner

I am bored … so bored.
I need something else to do.
Wrack my brain … the pain.
What will help? Don’t have a clue.

Talk on phone … endless drone.
Do my nails until they gleam.
Clean desk drawer … fun chore:
Found lost candy and hand cream.

Still I’m bored … so bored.
Without something else to try,
I’ll have no choice … guilty voice:
Must start my real work by and by.

Ah, Thanksgiving, How I Love You!

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I absolutely refuse to celebrate Halloween, but I love Thanksgiving dearly.  Almost every Thanksgiving in my life has wonderful, love-filled memories, and I always start celebrating the holiday early.  So I’m beginning extra-early this year with this brand new poem.  I realize that this holiday tends to be primarily an American holiday, but many people around the world do take time during the harvest season to celebrate and be grateful for the year’s bounty, so I hope it gives all of you a lift and a bit of extra joy for this time of year.

AH, THANKSGIVING, HOW I LOVE YOU!

a poem by Sandra Conner

Ah, 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. 

I hope each of you can celebrate this Thanksgiving Day with someone you love.

Photo courtesy of The Graphics Fairy: http://graphicsfairy.blogspot.com/