Deep thoughts Poetic Asides

 Background Noise

 

Sometimes, I’m so

deep in thought

that I have to tunnel

my way through layers

when I hear my name

and then someone says,

“Haven’t you been listening

to a thing I said?”

Meant to Be Poetic Bloomings

 Rearview

In high school, 

teachers and friends

insisted I go to college, 

but I had no idea

what I wanted to do. 

An interest test revealed

I should be a physical therapist. 

I did my first year of college, 

but I actually had no idea 

what physical therapists did. 

I quit after the first year

and spent another year 

at a job I hated 

working at McDonald’s 

to pay off the college loan.

Then I went through a series

of unfun low-paying jobs, 

got married and raised kids,

and then hosted four people 

with developmental disabilities. 

Hubby had two strokes

and I saw firsthand 

the amazing things 

physical therapists did. 

And I thought, 

I should have been 

a physical therapist. 

But on the other hand,

I probably wouldn’t have

become a writer. 

Desire Poetic Asides

 The Travel Bug

 

The desire starts with a twitch in my foot

when I’m driving.

It wants to hit the gas and go past

the usual grocery store run

out in open highways

over the mountains.

 

Then when I’m doing laundry,

instead of folding things neatly

and putting them in a drawer,

I want to roll up the jeans, tops,

and unmentionables

and stuff them in my suitcase.

 

Then the trains, the ship, the planes,

the canyons the oceans, the savannahs,

call my name

like chocolate does sometimes

from the cupboards.

I’ve got the travel bug.

Trees Poetic Bloomings

 

I Like trees

I like trees, wide, narrow, short or tall

Willow, Hickory, Aspen and Yew

Maple, especially in the fall

I like trees

 

An Oak to climb when nothing to do

Poplar, Linden, Eucalyptus, Palm

Bonsai, Cedar, Birch to name a few

 

Some Arborvitae to form a wall

Baobab, Cherry, Gum—not to chew

Sassafras, Elm, Dogwood, hear me call,  

“I like trees!”

Object poem ballad form

 

Orange Glass Mushroom

Orange mushroom on my dresser top

Of sparkling, see-through glass

Reminding me of a dear friend

And times we’ve had in past

 

I met her in the seventh grade

Our friendship bonded fast

We hiked and biked and talked all night

A friendship that would last

 

We had adventures in the woods

Watched football games for fun

And as a two-headed monster

We "Halloweened" as one

 

Dad called us twin thermometers

Because we were so thin

And then we got obsessed with boys

Double dates to begin

 

Then went to a small Bible group

and learned from Pastor Smith

Said yes to the Lord the same night

It wasn’t just a myth

 

We read the Bible together

For the very first time

And laughed so hard at drowning pigs

With no reason or rhyme

 

Because a woman lost her shoe--

A painting on our wall

We laughed so much that fateful night

My mom thought we would fall

 

Then Sis and I we moved out west

Nebraska became home

My dear friend joined us for a while

When she began to roam

 

We say hello on Facebook now

And though we live apart

The orange glass mushroom shows

She lives within my heart

 

 

Summer Poetic Asides

 Fun in the Sun

The summer lies like a blank journal
waiting to be written in.
I hope to have some fun in the sun,
but the dailies are up to my chin.

Is it because I’m a busy bee?
Or is the blank thing my mind?
In the sun, I hope to have some fun.
What summer adventures can I find?

Re-tour this area I know well?
Grab some friends and take a hike?
I hope to have some fun in the sun.
I’d like to buy an electric bike.

Or a kayak to dream at the lake.
Oh, I want to have a ball!
In the sun, I hope to have some fun
and go to Africa in the fall.

heat Poetic Bloomings

 It’s a Mystery

It’s a mystery, my kids who complained when hot,

I thought they’d move to somewhere cool.

They moved to Phoenix, believe it or not.

It’s a mystery.

 

An air conditioner is a handy tool,

But past one ten, it doesn't hit the spot.

It’s true, Phoenix weather can be cruel.

 

It’s nice in the winter, till heat’s onslaught.

I wish they had a swimming pool.

Why didn’t they give this more forethought?

It’s a mystery.

Dad Poetic Asides

 A Child’s First Superhero

 

A child’s first superhero is their dad.

He’s strong and kind and lives to help his own.

His goofy jokes will cheer you when you’re sad.

You’re always glad it’s time when he comes home.

You know his comfy chair works as his throne.

His very presence serves to calms your fears.

And though he hurts, you seldom see his tears.

For you, he prays that God will open doors.

Yes, he becomes more super through the years.

And though he cannot fly, a dad's love soars.

Sad song better Poetic Bloomings

 

Sound of Silence

 

You are the light

in the dark of night

You are my home

when I am alone.

You are the voice

and I have a choice

to hear you

and love you

and not be afraid

of silence.

sonnet object poem

 The Old Brown Mugs

 

Mom Peters’ mugs, upon my shelf so high,

Ceramic, old, and different shades of brown,

Inciting images from days gone by

Of driving over mountains to her town.

 

I drove from Colorado to Cheyenne,

Five hundred miles with two kids there in back.  

We got there before bedtime, by the plan.

When we got in, all tired, we’d have a snack.

 

When done, the kids would scamper down the hall

And open the small closet full of toys.

And there they would proceed to have a ball,

While Mom and I would talk despite the noise.

 

She’d fill those old, brown cups with steaming tea,

And tell me tales of when she was a child,

The time she got in trouble as a teen,

 She sent her horse back home across the wild.

 

My mother-in-law was the very best.

The mugs remind me, we were greatly blessed.

Open Poetic Asides

 Open

 

O pen and exposed

P ossibilities are endless

E ntering an unknown realm

N ew steps forward

Freedom Poetic Bloomings

 

For Freedom

 

My Uncle Bill who died in France

My dear dad’s brother and best friend

We didn’t meet, we had no chance.

For freedom, he had met his end.

 

I think of him, time and again.

My cousins that have never been.

And so, I keep his purple heart,

And pray that World War Three won’t start.

lyric Poetic Bloomings

  I Love a Rainy Night

 

I love Colorado—blue skies, sunshine

most of the time.

Majestic mountains, serene bluffs

Pines, juniper, pinon, tumble weeds.

But I miss rainy nights.

“I love a rainy night

I love a rainy night

You know it makes me feel good.”

Sitting on a porch

Hearing the powerful thunder

Watching the lightning

Listening to the drumming rain

Running out in it

Letting it wash all over me.

Dancing.

But now in southwest Colorado

when the rain tap, taps on the roof,

it’s like that old joke about the chain saw,

where a man had worked all day

trying to cut trees down

but it just doesn’t work

so he takes it back to the shop.

When the shopkeeper starts it up,

the man asks,

“What’s that noise?”

It’s like that when we first hear rain

in the southwest.

What’s that noise? 

 

I love a rainy night, I love a rainy night…You know it makes me feel good. –Eddie Rabbitt

 

water Poetic Asides

 We Pray for Rain

 

We pray for rain in the southwest,

Though we like our sunny blue skies.

And though fun, clear days are the best,

We pray for rain.

 

The ground’s dryness brings farmer sighs.

Yes, every summer comes this test.

Fears of fire and temperatures rise.

 

The less it rains, the more we’re stressed.

The drought lengthens and the earth cries.

We go to God with our request.

We pray for rain.

Different perspective Poetic Asides

 

If I Didn’t Believe in God.

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

I’d be in a world that just happened,

like an encyclopedia coming from

a bomb blast in a book shop.

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

whenever I was alone, I’d have

nobody to talk to except myself,

no loving, attentive Ears.

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

I’d say, “Everything goes.”

If it feels good, do it.

Until it doesn’t.

 

If I didn’t believe in God.

I’d feel like I was in a hall of mirrors.

with all its distortions.

No way to get out except death.

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

death would be it.

I’d have no hope

of a Heavenly Home.  

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

I wouldn’t receive His forgiveness.

I wouldn’t have anyone to thank

for the good things in my life.

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

when troubles came my way,

I’d have no supernatural help.

Impossibilities would be the norm.

 

If I didn’t believe in God,

others wouldn’t matter much to me.

I wouldn’t see them

as His valued creation.

 

If I didn’t believe in God.

Sanity would be hard to keep.

I wouldn’t feel His comfort

in this crazy, mixed-up world.

 

 

Fence Poetic Bloomings

 Our Fence

Our fence! We finally got it.

My joy is immense.

A beauty! Every bit!

Our fence!

 

We were held in impatient suspense

When on our back porch we’d sit

Waiting for the work to commence.

Work in progress. Don’t quit!

The shed next door was an offense.

Now, I dance on the porch, I admit.

Our fence!

World Building Poetic Asides

 The Nature Center at Butler Corner

 

The Nature Center at Butler Corner,

About seven thousand fifty feet up,

Five buildings nestle between open fields

And a tall pine forest with nature trails.

 

Miss Kathie welcomes bus loads of kids to

The Nature Center at Butler Corner.

She smiles, standing tall and thin like the pines.

Her family’s been there for generations.

 

The kids are divided into three groups.

They rotate between activities at 

 The Nature Center at Butler Corner.

Story trail, bear hunt, and porcupine craft.

 

The forest rings with chirping birds, laughter,

And animal sounds lively children make.

Then tired goodbyes to alpacas, goats, and  

The Nature Center at Butler Corner.

Horizon Poetic Bloomings

 Beyond the Horizon

(englyn penfyr)

 

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.

Proverbs 16:9

 

Past the horizon, if all goes as planned,

I fanned flames, only God knows.

He watches with water hose.

 

Travels, music, writing, art, friendships, fun.  

He’s the One that does His part.

He’s the horse and I’m the cart.

 

And, of course, there’s the mundane, daily things.

He sings through sunshine and rain.

He loves through triumph and pain.

 

Life is complex, I must rely on God.

Through odd notions and concepts,  

I make plans, He guides my steps.

englyn penfyr

 

Dreams of Kenya

 

We’ve now ignited an African dream.

Thoughts beam with, “I think we can.” 

For months, this bright flame, we’ll fan.

 

In Kenya, we’re awaited by Big Five.

Giraffes thrive with heads up high.

Let’s repel the tsetse fly.

 

Zebras, leopards, hippos, gazelles, baboons.

To tunes of sounds from all those.

To follow our dreams, we chose.

Kimo

 

A statuesque giraffe stands in a field

With a city scape background

Seeming incongruous

Kimo

 

An egg but with white yoke and yellow whites

The sun sets in an orange sky

Elephant silhouettes

Kimo

 

Mount Kilimanjaro against blue sky  

Umbrella Thorn Acacias

Three giraffes in Kenya

Mom Poetic Asides

 

New Mom Memory

 

I remember your first flutter inside,

Confirming what the doctor said was true.

It was on the highway, riding a bike.

I remember your first flutter inside.

I raced home and told your daddy, wide-eyed.

We both so looked forward to meeting you.

I remember your first flutter inside,

Confirming what the doctor said was true.

Countdown Poetic Bloomings

 Anticipating Kenya

 

I plan to go to Kenya someday soon.

My sister Judy and I plan to go.

She and I, quite adventurous, I know.

November, we may look at Kenyan moon.

 

We may go to an elephant reserve.

Another thing that might make many laugh.

I look forward to kissing a giraffe!

And we’ll see lions, if we have the nerve.

 

The antelopes appear a handsome lot.

The elephants majestic in their size.

Keep distance from the hippos to be wise.

Hope cheetahs and some leopards, we will spot.

 

I plan to go to Kenya someday soon.

In Colorado, may be time for snow.

November, we may look at Kenyan moon.  

villonnet

 

The Holy Spirit

 

I need the filling of the Holy Ghost,

combatting the confusion of the day.

And that is why I come to You and pray.

I want to be Your temple and Your host.

 

Do you not know the Spirit dwells within?

He drives away the darkness and the fear.

He wipes away the sorrow and each tear.

Yet, He convicts the child of God of sin.

 

He loves enough to show the way that’s true.

He leads us on the holy path of grace

as we draw near and seek His loving face.

His promise is to see His children through.

 

I need the filling of the Holy Ghost.

Sweet, Holy Spirit, fill me now, I pray.

I want to be Your temple and Your host.

The Blank Time Poetic Asides

 

The Tea Time

 

The morning time

The prayer time

The study time

The writing time

The afternoon pick-me-up time

The after-dinner time

The show time

The journaling time

The bedtime

The middle-of-the-night time

Any time

Remix

 

Faith

 

Stepping out, not knowing the next move

Placing confidence in the unseen

Looking for His ways to prove

Stepping out, not knowing the next move

Seeking out a working groove

From a heart that’s pure and clean

Stepping out, not knowing the next move

Placing confidence in the unseen

Millionaire Poetic Bloomings

 

Stewardship

 

A million dollars seems unending,

but not if you’re adept at spending.

How quickly a million would disappear,

if you give and spend throughout the year.

If I had a million, I hope I’d do some good

and have wisdom to use it as I should.

I know that happiness can’t be bought,

but misery can come from having naught.

Moving on April 2022 PAD Challenge 30-3

 Moving On

 

Moving on and glory bound

The days tick off one by one

Praying for lost to be found

To Creator of moon and sun

 

Moving on and glory bound

Time merely seems to stand still

Marching on around and round

Until time has had its fill

 

Moving on and glory bound

The Lord is good, full of love

Soon we’ll hear the trumpet sound

And meet Him in clouds above.

 

Moving on and glory bound

Or we’ll meet Him past the vail

Bodies hidden in the ground

But with our souls set to sail 

Moving On April 2022 PAD Challenge 30-2

 

Stuck

 

Stuck, tires spinning, going nowhere

Would someone give me a little push?

So much to do and I’m here in my chair.

Stuck, tires spinning, going nowhere

Reclining as if I haven’t a care.

Like an alpaca that wants to cush.

Stuck, tires spinning, going nowhere

Would someone give me a little push?

Moving On April 2022 PAD Challenge 30-1

 Worn-out Welcome

 

I wish winter would move on.

But in Colorado it doesn’t want to.

Each spring, it howls with determination

to extend its stay, though it wore out its welcome.

 

I wish winter would move on.

It clings to the new buds on the trees

and the purple blossoms of my lilac bush.

It bares its white teeth, read for a kill.

 

I wish winter would move on.

It teases, allowing the sun to appear.

Then when our hopes are up,

it snatches warmth away.

 

I wish winter would move on.

It insists I keep the heater on

when I know Arizona’s ACs

are working overtime.

 

I wish winter would move on.

It sets its icy jaw in stubbornness.

It knows its days are limited.

Summer serves an eviction notice.