Friday, November 30, 2018

PAD challenge 6-3 lost and or found


The Soldier and the Moose

 A soldier walked among tall trees
Heard mournful mysterious cries
He thought a cat but was surprised
A moose not as high as his knees
He wanted him to come at ease
So he sat quietly and still
The moose nuzzled him for his fill
The man had nothing to appease

He called the vet who brought some milk
And they fed the baby moose there
It’s soft brown fur was smooth as silk
They left it for its mother’s care
It disappeared  in dark of night
Large moose prints showed the calf’s alright

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pE5nzsrrGp8&vl=en

Thursday, November 29, 2018

PAD Challenge 6-2 lost and or found


My friend about to be wed.
Twirled by the mirror and said,
As she made her rounds,
“I’ve lost a few pounds!”
I think I found them instead.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

PAD Challenge 6-1 lost and or found


Charmed

She wandered in a field of gorse
As yellow as the sun above.
T’was where she lost her tiny horse.
Her aunt had given it in love,
A simple charm made of pure gold.
She searched and searched for hours there
And given up in near despair.
She hoped her auntie wouldn’t scold.
Collected gorse on her way home       
And put it in a china vase.
Then took it to her auntie’s place
And quoted an I’m-sorry poem.
Her auntie’s smile was warm as sand.
She placed the horse in niece’s hand

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

haiku


We reach 60, 70, 80…
Complaining about getting old
And God giggles

Monday, November 26, 2018

PAD Challenge 5-3 Private


Not for Everyone

We had a doublewide on sixteen acres
where I could take long walks
followed by three cats and a goat.
You’d think I’d count myself lucky,
but sometimes too much privacy
can be hazardous to your health.
We moved to a house in town.

Sunday, November 25, 2018

PAD Challenge 5-2 Private


No Private Bathroom

I’m not too wild about
socialized medicine
after I saw it firsthand
in Ireland when my sister
had to go to the hospital.

Relegated to a bed in the hallway,
since there were no open rooms,
she got trapped in the bathroom
when someone rolled a bed
in front of the door.

Eventually, she was moved to a ward
with forty or so beds with just
a curtain separating everyone
from all the embarrassing noises
usually done in private.

The employees called her
“the woman on the trolley”
because she didn’t get a real bed
till two days after
she was moved to the ward.

My sister urged us to go on
and explore the rest of Ireland
while she was in the hospital,
but we toured close by, not wanting
to leave her alone in that place.



Saturday, November 24, 2018

PAD challenge 5-1 private



Private, Keep Out

I credit my little sister
for me staying in good shape
when I was a teenager
as many times as I ran after her
when she stole my diary.

When my daughter was a teen
and had the same long hair
and brown eyes as I did then,
my sister said, “It’s odd, but
I have an urge to steal her diary.”

Friday, November 23, 2018

PAD Challenge apology 4-3


Checking In

I’m sorry on that day
I went the other way
When I felt that I should call

And it may be a sin
Instead of dropping in
I went to the shopping mall

You were sad and alone
I wish I would have known
To prevent your awful fall

Thursday, November 22, 2018

PAD challenge 4-2, Poetic Bloomings thanksgiving


I'm Sorry This Happened

This November
I’m thankful
Hubby’s home
and not
in rehab
like he
was last
Thanksgiving
after his
second stroke.

I remember
I took
him a
container of
whip cream.
He loves
it. He
ate half
of it
before lunch.

This Thanksgiving
will be
quiet just
him and
me and
a big
turkey dinner
and whip
cream with
pumpkin pie.

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

PA apology 4-1


Gravy Disaster

I’m sorry this gravy’s such a mess.
It looks more like pancake batter.
I’m not the best cook, I confess.
I’m sorry this gravy’s such a mess.
What it’s made of, you can’t guess.
Too much flour is the matter.
I’m sorry this gravy’s such a mess.
It looks more like pancake batter.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

PAD challenge Tired of... 3-3 Poem Away ballad


Tired of My Small Town

Remembering so long ago
I lived in a small town
Was tired of looking at same sights
Nothing to do was found

I dreamed of making my escape
On a train, bus, or plane
Exploring and making new friends
I’d never be the same

And so I traveled far and wide
The fifty states and more
The Caribbean and Scotland
And Ireland shore to shore

And Mexico and Canada
I’ll visit once again
Do I ever miss my small town?
Oh, maybe now and then


Monday, November 19, 2018

PAD Challnege 3-2 Rondeau


Tired of this Cold

I’m tired of this cold and feeling all down.
My nose is scarlet, I look like a clown.
The sneezing, the itching, the runny nose.
The aches and pains from my head to my toes.
My face is fixed in a permanent frown.

And there’s lots to do, but I am house-bound.
No walking, shopping or going to town.
I guess I’ll sit here and binge on my shows.
I’m tired of this cold.

It’s hard to breathe; it feels like I’ll drown.
Foggy brain can’t tell a verb from a noun.
Tissues surround me like new fallen snow.
And I am tempted to shout “Thar she blows!
My eyes are so red, you can’t see the brown.
I’m tired of this cold.

Sunday, November 18, 2018

PAD challenge Tired of 3-1


Tired of this Dream

I dreamed I was somewhere.
At some hospital, Somewhere.
A woman dressed as a nurse,
a man and I stood by a bed.
In it, lay and old man
with red, shriveled legs.
He was obviously dying.

The nurse said one of us
would have to cut off his legs.
I said I would because
it needed to be done.
But as I  held the scalpel,
I realized I wasn’t a doctor
and shouldn’t be amputating.

So I told the man to do it.
But the nurse said that
 I couldn’t back out now.
As the scalpel in my hand
came closer to the diseased legs,
I said, “I’m tired of this dream,”
and woke myself up.

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Friday, November 16, 2018

PAD challenge darkest hour 2-2, Poem Away Andaree


Clouds Come and Go

Just no room for depression or fear
All seems to be fine and right
Not a cloud in sight
Full of hope
Light
Will stay? Nope!
Cold winds come that bite
Gray, gloomy clouds, I must fight
Storms will eventually disappear
At times my thoughts may be sunny, blue and clear

Thursday, November 15, 2018

PAD challenge darkest hour 2-1, Poem Away rispetto


Encouragement

It may be in the darkest hour
Encouragement can bring some light
Simple words can hold great power
Compelling darkness to take flight

Like a small match in a dark cave
Just one kind word can make them brave
You’ll be surprised what words can do
To see afflicted souls pull through

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

PAD challenge 1-3, Poem away ghazal


Poet’s Glory

The glory of the poet is his poem
Though this might not be glorious—this poem

Poets like to write of romantic love
A tender loving sealed-with-a kiss poem

Some poems speak of hatred, evil and death
A dark, macabre, slithering-snake-hiss poem.

Poets write light, like puppies and kitties
A happy-go-lucky-joyous-bliss poem

Some poets write from the seat of their pants
Like this poet’s breezy hit-or-miss poem

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Monday, November 12, 2018

PAD challenge 1-1 glorious




Glorious

Petunias
With their symmetry
Pinks, purples, yellows, reds, whites
Variety of dainty designs
Glorious

Maple trees
Limbs great for climbing
Outstretched to take in sunshine
Red, yellow or orange leaves in autumn
Glorious

Humpback whales
Big as a school bus
Nurse, love and protect their calves
Breathing, breaching, tail slapping, singing
Glorious

This morning
Sun through golden leaves
Hot tea with sugar and cream
Picante sauce and eggs, Hubby smiles
Glorious

Sunday, November 11, 2018

Poetic Asides nourishment


Spiritual Food
(Matthew 4:4)

When my soul is hungry, the Bible is a feast.
I munch upon the Scriptures from greatest to the least.
I gnaw upon the prophets like a juicy steak.
And savor Psalms and Proverbs like a snack during break.
I devour Acts and Romans when it’s time to regroup.
And I slurp up the gospels like I do with savory soup.
I might be like a kid eating veggies with Numbers and Lamentations.
But like cake and ice cream, Paul’s epistles are good for celebrations.
The book of Hebrews is definitely something to chew on.
And First and Second Peter gives me energy to move on.
First, Second and Third John are as sweet as juicy fruits.
And the books of history are like nourishing roots.
Like Grandma’s goulash which doesn’t look like food,
I eat Revelation anyway for I know it’s good.
I do not live on bread alone, though it may sound odd,
but every word that comes from the mouth of God.

Saturday, November 10, 2018

Poem Away Gardenia, blue


Proposal

The blue eyed coquette smiled.
Her azure dress beguiled.
A cobalt eyed man spoke,
a Navy man--no joke.
With sapphire, proposed in
an outfit cerulean,
at indigo nighttime,
with brightly made up rhyme.
She, underneath the moon,
accepted with a swoon.

Friday, November 9, 2018

Poetic Bloomings Rise


Light Weight and Strength

Miraculous! An eagle soaring high!
Its body’s strong to carry off its prey.
Its hollow bones are light enough to rise.
About a half a pound, its bones will weigh.

Strong muscles give its downward strokes much power.
And lighter muscles make the wings go up.
And turning wings’ front edges speeds through air.
Wings’ wider parts toward wind drag—not abrupt.

An eagle’s seven thousand feathers plus  
weighs only five small ounces and a pound.
To lift large prey, the eagle’s strength’s a must.  
A finer use of strength/light weight’s not found.

God takes what weighs us down to make life light.
He strengthens us like eagles to take flight.

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles (Isaiah 40:31 NIV).

Thursday, November 8, 2018

Poetic Blooming Clothes


My Pumpkin Dress

On my fifth birthday, a few days before Halloween, Mom made me a black and orange dress. I called it my pumpkin dress. I loved that dress and even wore it in the spring to my sister’s ninth birthday party. After she opened her presents, Mom had a surprise for her. The town firetruck came to give the partiers a ride. My cousin, about the same age, and I weren’t brave enough to ride the firetruck, so we stayed behind. Before they left, Mom took a picture of my cousin and I standing beside the firetruck packed with excited kids. That picture, later in life, inspired many adventures: spelunking, rock climbing, hot air balloon riding, zip-lining, white-water river rafting, because I didn’t want to be left behind, like I was in my pumpkin dress.

Two shy five-year-olds
Me in homemade pumpkin dress
Missed firetruck ride

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Poetic Bloomings Candle


Autumn Birthdays

Birthdays in autumn meant,
for most of them,
I  went to school
staring out the window,
watching leaves fall
wishing for the final bell,
bus home, eat supper,
and have angel food cake
with candles all around,
like kids playing ring-
around-the-rosy at recess,
and then open presents,
play with whatever toy I got
till bedtime, then school again.

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Poetic Bloomings costume


My Big Brown Eyes

We neighborhood kids made our rounds
Dressed up as monsters or in gowns.
Intent to scare or to astound.
They guessed me for my big, brown eyes.

One Halloween I went to school
Costumed as burglar, oh so cool.
Dressed all in black to surely fool.
They guessed me for my big, brown eyes.

At Scouts, a clown with round, red nose.
Thick curly wig and floppy clothes.
But you know how the story goes.
They guessed me for my big, brown eyes.

Monday, November 5, 2018

Poetic Asides Vice


I Like Chocolate

I like chocolate. It’s a craze.
Cookies, muffins and ice cream
Hot chocolate, see the steam.
Smoothies, brownies and parfaits
Turtle cupcakes, crème brulees
Baked Alaska makes me beam.
I like chocolate.

Tortes and trifles, chocolate shakes
Chocolate waffles with whipped cream
Chocolate cobbler. It’s a dream.
Covered nuts and chocolate cakes
I like chocolate.

Sunday, November 4, 2018

Poetic Bloomings crimson


Crimson

Mom wore red lipstick.
As red as maple leaves in fall.

Our habit was to kiss our parents
before we left the house.
(In case someone got run over
before we saw each other again.)

The days she wore lipstick,
we were careful to kiss her
and escape before she left
crimson prints on our cheeks.