Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Poetic Asides malfunction and Creative Bloomings lannet



A Conspiracy Theory

It appears when their warranties run out,
appliances unite and make a pact
that in a certain week, at any time,
they will go on strike, fizzle, stall, expire.

Refrigerators warm up, stoves cool down.
Clocks refuse to tick, CD players stick.
Handles will fall off; knobs will quit turning.
Parts will pop, sizzle, smoke, grind to a stop.

All we can do is sigh and be thankful
they served their purpose as long as they did,
and then go buy something new and improved.
Naughty, conniving gadgets might behave

if they knew they would be trashed and replaced,
but merchants and designers grin in glee. 


Tuesday, August 26, 2014

limerick

A man in the mood for a sweet
Searched high and low for a treat
But cupboards were bare
And all heard him swear

With words none would dare to repeat

Monday, August 25, 2014

limerick

A fellow who loaned out his drill
Discovered it there at Good Will
So right from the rack
He bought the drill back
And then sent his neighbor the bill 

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Creative Bloomings color poem

Periwinkle

P urple-blue like the flower
E legant and dainty like a fairy gown
R eminding me of grandma’s eyes
I cy and vibrant
W arm and relaxed
I ndependantly lovely
N ew-song inspiring
K issed by angels
L ovely and delicate
E ndearing, gentle and cheerful

Saturday, August 23, 2014

PA Golden shovel poem

Grace for the Taking

Amazed, puzzled, surprised, no,
just filled with childish wonder,
to know the Mighty One, the
creator of the stars, moon
and sun, the trees, the grass in

fields, the rushing rivers, the
rain drops tapping the window,
the whole world, loves us! It seems
a dazzling dream come true to
understand the gift we have.

It appears we have drifted
into our own schemes far out
of amazing grace, out of
hope, out of peace into a                                                                              
fake and temporary love.

The God, the Man, the Poem
expressed sweet compassion that
wants good things for me and you,
declaring joy to those used
to earning what we’re drawn to.

Shame may divide, but we know
forgiveness was paid for by
the divinely wounded heart.


(From Forgetfulness by Bill Collins)

Friday, August 22, 2014

PA blame it on...

Blame the Cat

I know I’m supposed to be
painting with words,
making music with meter,
providing silky images
or those prodding like a poker,
but my cat chirps for attention,
dancing around my computer,
brushing against me
until at last she nestles on my belly,
purring contentedly,
allowing my fingers
to wiggle out from underneath her,
like little crabs scurrying to the ocean
to write this bit of poem.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

PA Golden Shovel

River Rafting

We drift down the river in rubber rafts, the
currents gently carrying us as we bob along laughing, feeling free
 until the water turns white and we wield our oars like wings of a wounded bird.
Our captain shouts orders, “All ahead! Get it together! Get down!” The raft leaps
ahead and suddenly we’re drifting daintily on. 
Then we hit another rush and abruptly one of ours tumbles out of the
raft. We surge ahead, unable to go back
and get him. Such a helpless feeling. But then folks of
another raft pull him in. Rescued! Then as the
stream steadies, we pull our lost one back in from the other raft. The wind
kicks up, the sky darkens, but what’s a little rain when we’re already wet? We stop and
pull the heavy rafts on the mucky bank. We eat, talk and laugh. No raft floats
further as we take a break. The guide rehearses the signals because downstream
is the big challenge. We can bow out and walk in the woods and wait till
the others make it through the rapids. But we, the adventurers, sally forth. The
water churns, soon we’re in the midst. Violent force tosses two of us into the current.
Our comrades pull us in by our vests. Then more rapids. Victorious! Soon our adventure ends.

(From I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou)