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.

Friday, October 24, 2014

poewar verbs

Walking in the Rain

Yesterday, an autumn day, I walked in the rain.
I about forgot how I loved to splash about in a downpour.
Being outdoors makes me feel adventurous and alive,
Especially in the rain amidst the brilliant leaves turning.

A stranger poked his head out of his SUV shouting,
“You’re going to get wet, girl!”
Something about walking in the rain
Elicits comments from strangers.

I remember walking in the rain as a little girl
And people who would pass me
Would say something clever, funny or stupid,
Like, “You’re going to get wet.”  Duh.

As I walked, the rain pelted off my wind breaker.
I felt sheltered, yet exposed to a delightful world,
of beauty, of orange and golden leaves glistening.
I basked in rain, like beachgoers do the sun.

I entered my home delighting in the warmth.
I nestled in my recliner and sipped hot tea.
A bit saddened, I wondered how long
It would be till I walked in the rain again.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

poewar real moment


On our 35th wedding anniversary,
my husband’s brother came to visit.
They rehashed stories growing up,
school days, the band, dating, marriage,
children, church, their spiritual lives
and how they viewed the world.

I noticed there were many incidents
hubby and I remembered differently.
After several corrections and amendments,
I decided to let him tell them his way.
I just smiled at his versions and wondered
what his revisions would be next time.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

poewar something new

Public Speaking

Chest tightened
Sweat formed
Throat cleared
Mouth spoke
Eyes stared
Hands clapped
Breathing resumed

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

poewar beginning middle end


A cloud covered the sun
And the old woman hobbled to the window
Feeling fragile and fearful

Her cabin in the woods had always felt like a refuge, until now
She fingered her diamond necklace in one hand, rifle in the other
Her talents were many, poetry, painting, singing, marksmanship

The crystal on her mantel glimmered as a flashlight beam passed over
She stepped out on the porch rifle aimed at a furtive figure in black

She listened to the retreating footsteps and returned to her refuge, unbroken

Monday, October 20, 2014

poewar negative to positive

Catastrophe/Success Diamante

Cataclysmic, disastrous
Stressing, despairing, panicking
Hurricane, tsunami, completion, accomplishment
Rejoicing, enjoying, thriving
Advantageous, fortunate

Sunday, October 19, 2014

poewar lines of different lengths


The candle flickered
casting shadows on the wall
while the storm raged outside.
She sat up when she saw a silhouette
of a giant pouncing toward her bed,
but it was merely Kitty playing with her toy.
Worry’s like that.

poewar formal casual (Saturday)

Formal or Casual

An old lady
examined her wrinkles and rolls
in the mirror.
“Shall I go formal or casual today?”
She slipped into an evening gown
and laced on her sneakers.
Why not both?

Friday, October 17, 2014

Poewar Random word Splinter


S omething broke off from the whole
P iece, sliver, chip, fragment
L eft loose to be on its own
I ndependent from the group
N ot with the source
T orn apart, disintegrated, shattered
E very day I struggle with splinterdom.
R emind me, Lord, to stick with You.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

poewar old poem to new


Winning a million dollars
Excitement, surprise, delight
God is greater.

He is my treasure.
A goldmine of grace and mercy
My prize

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Poewar Imagism

Orange, gold, red leafy arms
Reached over our car
Like a bridge over a square dancer 

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Poewar repetition

Wind Whisperer

We whisper wishes in the wind
And the wind whisperer listens
Glistening leaves fall
Whirling, swirling, dancing
Laughing, we chase them
Catching them here and there in midair
As we whisper wishes in the wind
And the wind whisperer listens

Monday, October 13, 2014

Poewar W'hat's your routine? Change it.

I usually write poetry in the morning, during the two hours my husband and I are getting our host home clients up and ready or sometimes before they’re both up. (I write fiction and devotions early morning and during the day when my clients are at day programming four days a week.) I use my laptop and sit in my recliner. Poetry sessions go from a few minutes to a half hour or so, unless I’m getting a poem ready for publication then the revision can go longer. I write a poem a day so I don’t wait until I get inspired. I usually write to prompts or if I don’t have a prompt I make my own: a photo, a wordle, or something on the internet. Often my poems come from my prayer life, something I experience or something that’s been on my mind. I edit a bit while I write the poem, usually I don’t try to perfect it unless I want to submit it for publication. 

Poeming on the Porch

I remember a time
living in a trailer on an acreage
when I thought going to jail
sounded inviting.
Someone cooking my meals.
Not having to take care of kids.
Having adults to talk to.

The crisp air bites my elbows.
Leaves have turned yellow already.
Some kind of bird chirps.
Cars rush by in the distance.
A little-more-than-half-moon waits to set.
Not much going on the neighborhood.
I miss living in the country.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

poewar syllabic verse shadorma

Walking in the Rain

Rainy afternoon
Earthy scent
Golden leaves
Remembering childhood days
Feeling so alive

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Poewar First person definitive statement

The Bridge

If I were to cross a suspension bridge
Hundreds of feet over a raging river
I’d make sure it’s one I could trust.

There are many purported bridges
To Heaven in the form of various religions,
But can we trust any of them?

I trust the One who fulfilled many prophecies with unfathomable statistics,
Who healed the sick, taught with authority, and rose from the dead.
I trust the One whose predictions reads like today’s news.

I trust the One who is love,
Who sacrificed His life for my forgiveness
Who made my life worth living.

Jesus is my bridge.

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. John 14:6

Friday, October 10, 2014

poewar 2 metered, one unmetered

Writing this Rascal Poem

I can not seem to write this poem today
So many starts, my time just wastes away
I’ll laugh about this some forthcoming day
Determination’s often hard to sway

I fiddle with the meter and the rhyme
As out the window flies my precious time
To many this may seem to be a crime
But when I’m done, at last, I’ll feel sublime

Like an avid jigsaw-puzzler is confident
that 1,000 pieces will make one picture,
a poet has to have faith that a thousand thoughts
will come together as a poem. 

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Poewar meter

The Sea Gull

The sea gull perched upon the rocks
As frothy waves crashed on the beach
Two wizened men fished from the docks
The glory days consumed their speech

Of better times when young and brave
And fought for wives and kids and more
And worked, and strived, and loved, and gave
And aimed for better things in store

Until they realized too late
The moments were what held the grace
The little things were what was great
Like look upon your loved one’s face

The sea gull flew into the sky
The two men watched as it went by 

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Poewar elegy

My Sister-in-law

She saved three lives
before her body left the hospital.
The strangers I pass on the street
could have
her eyes
her heart
her liver.
The burn victim I noticed
in the grocery store
could be wearing her skin.
It’s mostly comforting,
but a little bit creepy.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Poewar list poem

Things that Make Me Smile

A kitty cat
A baby’s giggle
Saying cheese
Ticklish toes that wiggle

A surprise gift
A birthday wish
A silly song
A scrumptious dish

An ice cream cone
Colorful socks
A funny joke
Nature walks

Fond memories
A new suit
To win a game
Something cute

An impish grin
A spring rain

A soft pillow
A welcome friend
A warm hug
A long day’s end

Monday, October 6, 2014

Poewar meditation

Where Dreams Come True

How nice it would be to glide
and whirl about on the ice.
Gracefully, majestically.
Perhaps in eternity. 

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Poewar perspective


I used to be loved by a little girl,
but she grew up
and I found myself in a yard sale.

A woman with black hair and brown eyes said,
“What a lovely red-headed doll!”
and bought me for a quarter.

Her husband called me Gooneybird
and the name stuck.
I had a happy life there.

All their grandchildren and visitors
would come play with me.
But then the elderly couple was no more.

I went home with one of the daughters.
Now, I sit in the living room in a blue chair my size,
next to a dummy named Jim Rabbit.

Besides my pink dress, I wear a white hat from a girl
who once lived there and a crocheted multicolored scarf
that had belonged to the old man who had named me.

Now a childlike man stoops down before me
and stares at me as if waiting for me to talk.
I wish I could. I’d tell him he has a nice smile.

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Poewar place

Gaslight Theater in Durango

A new baby doll scent mixed
with the musty smell of old carpet
and tantalizing aroma of buttered popcorn.

Gasps echoed my thoughts
when we spied the new seats,
a kind of golden peachish color,

pleather, large and luxurious
looking like they were robbed
from first class seating in a jumbo jet.

We delighted in cushy comfort as we sat,
feeling a bit like Lily Tomlin
as she said, “My name is Edith Ann.”

We fiddled with buttons on the sides,
joking about ejection seats or calling help
but landed in a reclining position.

Because they were so comfortable,
they were soon forgotten as blaring sound
and colorful images brought the screen to life.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Poewar trending

The Great American Beer Festival

Once, I slept in the home office of a Coors heir.
It was larger than my bedroom at home,
its shelves filled with nicely bound books.
A giant globe took up one corner,
a broad desk about the size of my car, in another.
The split level house, nicely decorated
featured an attached triple-car garage
which held his choices of Mercedes.  
Maybe people like him and his customers
and various “beer geeks”
have a reason to celebrate beer,
but not victims of drunk drivers,
domestic abuse or alcoholics.  

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Poewar something I've changed my mind about


With over thirty years of writing,
I haven’t gotten as much out of it
financially as I put into it.
So I’ve changed my mind
about self-publishing.
It’s a different animal anyway,
no longer looked at as vanity.
I’ll give myself another thirty years.
If I’m not breaking even by
the time I’m eighty-six,
I’ll retire and take up painting. 

Poewar childhood giving-Oct 1

More than Things

I don’t remember giving a lot away when I was a kid.
 I didn’t have a whole lot of what anyone would want.
I remember trading some of my doll clothes and dishes
and never feeling satisfied with the trade,
always thinking of the lost items with regret.
Once, I gave a Halloween peanut butter cup to my dad.
He was astonished at my generosity and so pleased,
I would have given him all my candy if he asked.
To this day it’s easier to give away money than things.
I guess that’s a leftover from the time I didn’t have much.
Once I possess something, it becomes a part of my story.
Every object in my home could become a poem.