Candle

 A Birthday Candle 

It was our niece’s thirty-fifth birthday. My sister and I were visiting her in Northern Ireland. We went shopping and bought her the backpack she wanted and ate a delicious lunch in what used to be a linen mill. Linen was what their town of Moygashel used to be all about. We went back to their small house with a yellow orange rose in the picket-fenced yard. We had birthday cake, which was a collection of sweets that we had gathered over the past few days and some ice cream. No place for birthday candles. Her husband had that covered with a twelve-inch candle that more resembled fireworks, shooting sparks up about two feet into the air. Meg stood there, holding the candle, surprised and a bit shocked as we sang happy birthday. The song ended as the smoke alarm sounded. We had a good laugh after the last spark and the alarm’s screech died down. 

As the sparks flew up
I wondered what she wished for
On her thirty-fifth

Update autobiography poem

 Me from A to Z

 

A rtist

B orn in Johnstown, PA

C aregiver of a man with autism

D evotional writer

E lectric-biker wannabe

F ourth out of five sisters  

G ood friend

H iker

I ntermittent novelist and creative nonfiction writer

J igsaw puzzler

K ayaker wannabe

L ikes to play Quiddler, Splendour and Canasta

M om of  an RN and an Uber driver

N ature Center teacher for a homeschool group

O ccasional speaker

P oet

Q uiet, for the most part

R eader

S enior citizen. Eeks!

T raveler

U kelele player

V ictorious in the end

W ife of a two-time stroke survivor

EX cited about Jesus

Y ielded to the Lord, or tries to be

Z ealous for worship and church

 

 

vehicle Poetic Asides

 Karmen Ghia

 

My sis had her own little car

A Volkswagen Karmen Ghia.

A two-seater with shelf in back,

Having it was a great idea.

 

One dark night, we hopped in the car,

But both seats were left down.

We fell in back and laughed a lot

We each felt like a clown.

 

One icy night our six-foot neighbor

Scrunched on the back shelf.

Looking back, I’m not sure why

I didn’t sit there myself.

 

But while Sis drove, I scraped the ice

To guide her by the line.

The neighbor guy scrunched in back,

He began to whine.

 

“It doesn’t bother me that I can’t see,

but I know you can’t see either.”

We made it safely to the class in town

And so we had a breather.

 

Years later, one fateful day,

Sis was in an accident.

Too bad she couldn’t keep the car;

Today it’s worth a mint.

Taste Poetic Bloomings

 Tasty

 

Tangy, tasty, rich and salty

Spicy, zesty, robust and malty

Buttery, nutty, honeyed and sweet

Longing for a mouth-watering treat

Flavorful, savory, citrusy, luscious

So many foods that are delicious

Trying new foods, taking a chance

Making your taste buds sing and dance

Blank like blank Poetic Asides

 Write Like You Would Die if You Didn’t

 

Writer, you write for a reason.
You need not wait for a season.
Write as if you would surely die,
If your words you didn’t supply.
You need not take time to ease in.

 

You can jump with both your feet in.
May get up early or sleep in.
Though your creative well feels dry,
Writer, you write.

 

Though you’re not hungry, you dig in.
When you’re sick, you take medicine.
Though you are tired, you exercise.
And you go to work, if you’re wise.
So to write, use your discipline.
Writer, you write.

Plugged in Poetic Bloomings

 Plugged In

 

Chorus:

I’m plugged in by His mercy, 

Empowered by His grace. 

Charged up by the Word of God,

And operate by faith.

Energized by His Spirit,

As I seek His face.

I’m plugged in by His mercy,

Empowered by His grace.  

 

Have you ever tried to turn on

A lamp to light the dark?

And no matter what you did

There seemed to be no spark.

And then you spy the lamp’s plug

Lying loosely on the floor.

Ah ha, it needs to be plugged in!

No darkness anymore.

 

 Chorus

 

This world has its problems,

Its sorrow and its pain.

And sometimes we feel powerless,

With nothing more to gain.

There’s a Father waiting

To take us as His own.

He will help us in this life

And promises a Home.

 

Chorus

Wind Poetic Asides

Hang On!

 

Hang on to your hat,

your skirt, your newspaper.

Hang on to your cat,

your kid, your umbrella.

Tie down your swing set,

your tool shed,

your trailer.

 

The wind sock

sails straight out,

and then, it’s gone!

Grab on to the rail,

as you flap like a flag.

Hang on!

You’re in windy Wyoming.