Friday, October 31, 2014

Poewar No A's except one with two


There’s something missing in this poem.
Cn you guess wht it is?
Not eiou.
The first letter of the lphbet.
Tht’s right. You got it.
It’s esy to see.
Angela, dm, ndy, meli, shley
would ll miss this letter very much.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Poewar Complete


It doesn’t happen very often—completing something.
There’s always a dish waiting at the sink.
A sock forgotten in the laundry.
People are continuously hungry.
Crumbs magically appear on the floor.
Manuscripts forever need revising.
That’s one reason I like writing poetry.
I can finish poems, or at least, almost finish them.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

poewar beginning with final line


Striving to stand out,
but not be weird.
Intending to blend in,
but not fade away unnoticed.

Focusing on two things at once—
changing colors to match their backgrounds,
and unfurling their speedy tongues,
like chameleons. 

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

poewar sounds

Morning Dance

A nimble nymph danced in delight
in her secret place under the willows.
In dim morning light, she twirled and smiled
and on a whim waltzed with a nightingale,
letting lovely winds rustle her wings.
Music of the morning—trills and squeals
of woodland animals made her toes tap.
Until at last she scampered ‘neath the lilies
and whiled away the warm day, napping.

Monday, October 27, 2014

poewar inspiration: Just start writing anything that comes to mind as fast as you can

Some Foods Are Like That

Lemons are sour but smell so sweet
Pepper are useless unless they’re cooked
Mushrooms remind me of Dad in the forest
Onions make people cry and smell bad
Bananas get a bad rap sometimes
Eggs can be made so many ways
Bread is yummy but can make you fat
Chocolate’s like God in some ways
Venison brings back memories and makes my mouth water
Grapes dance as raisins
Pistachio nuts are an event
Snickers sits on my lap and purrs.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

poewar paragraph to poem

Memories of a Campfire

One summer night in Pennsylvania,
after a cookout,
my middle sister,
my oldest sister’s husband
and I sang around a campfire.

While he played the guitar,
she held the book
and I held the flashlight.
We sang old folk songs,
one after the other.

The campfire reduced
to glowing embers
and the circle of light
became smaller
and weaker on the page.

In The Cat Came Back,
Old Mr. Johnson tried
to get rid of his little cat
until the whole world exploded,
but the cat came back.

I think of that singing session
with affection and some sadness
since my brother-in-law passed.
Memories are to life,
like embers are to a roaring fire.

Our souls are somewhat like the cat,
and for my sister’s hubby, life flames eternal. 

Saturday, October 25, 2014

poeward begin and end with same word


Fast, frantic, faithful
She gobbles down breakfast
and tears off to learn about children’s books,
while the warm Albuquerque sun beams on.
Then she flits away like a butterfly
after a meal of nectar.