I sit today to write a poem,
with hopes the world will read.
I sit today to write a poem,
that all of us will need.
~
I sit today to write a poem,
it’s what I love to do.
I sit today to write a poem,
I hope that you do too.
~*~
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I sit today to write a poem,
with hopes the world will read.
I sit today to write a poem,
that all of us will need.
~
I sit today to write a poem,
it’s what I love to do.
I sit today to write a poem,
I hope that you do too.
~*~
SCK010220
There’s poetry for hate and for love.
There are poems for hawks and the dove.
Some are short, some quite long,
some add music and make a song.
~
There are poems that are happy but many are sad.
There’s poetry that’s good while none really bad.
Some poems rhyme and others not,
some just a little, some rhymesalot.
~
There’s effort made to make you smile.
There are jokes thrown in once in a while.
Sometimes yes and sometimes no,
some get posted and others go.
~
There’s poetry that’s biographical.
There are funny poems but this one laughable.
Someday I’ll write a book for print,
someday when I get a hint.
~*~
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Today’s poem’s not a poem at all.
Seems the flow has hit the wall.
The change in season’s what I suspect.
A change in me I don’t detect.
~
The blues behind, green’s on its way,
what happens next I can’t say.
Sometime a stick of wood is just that.
Or it can start a fire or built a habitat.
~
And with each box we’ve many strikes.
Some were used when we were tykes.
The rest we save for those rainy days,
when again they’ll guide our ways.
~
Jumbled metaphors run through my mind.
A start or end I can not find.
Perhaps now stopping is best.
It’s getting late, I need some rest.
~*~
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Snow and rain may dampen the day,
but the feelings inside warm the gray.
Minds bright forever shine.
Lips smiling seldom whine.
Today’s create our future tomorrows,
where somewhere the sunshine glows.
~*~
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Sunrise’s heard, they paint with rain.
They feel joy and others pain.
They fall in love with the greatest of ease.
They sculpt our dreams as they please.
~
Sunsets beckon their stars to shine.
Heartbreaks linger, the rush divine.
Past souls tread to futures new.
Their blood’s read erasing the blue.
~
Their time shared with all, but few.
Though recounting seconds is what poets do.
~*~
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I’m tickled in all the right places.
Smiles burst on glowing faces.
Laughs and giggles, bodies gently caressed.
Tingling consumes, lips say it best.
~*~
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.
Poetic purgatory’s a place between,
the best of all verse never to be seen.
Visions undefinable, feelings unfelt
and sensations inconceivable, when
squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squoze,
jumbled noise and random shapes,
blurry sounds and perception escapes.
Normalcy‘s all a part of prose.
Unheard the whispers whose echo grows,
frequency seldom as anyone knows.
Oh no, no, no and so the rhythm comes and goes.
Mind distracted by orderly thought.
Moments rest all for naught.
Escapers of dreams always caught.
Then times sold, image bought and change sought,
until the dollars sign to buy an eternity.
Though sense is never free, so why, why, why –
Why won’t desires die?
~
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~
With each new day we do grow.
We flourish and whither till it’s time to go.
Our stay’s too short on this earth.
Life’s longest on our day of birth.
And the time betwixt is all we know.
So write it well, it is your show.
~*~
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~*~
Theologians seek the heavens,
Astronomers the stars above.
Philosophers seek the meaning of life,
Poets seek only love.
~
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To whom it may inspire
To love a poet; pasts can be revised, futures imagined with exuberance and love, ah yes love, our’s sculpted in stone as the eternal benchmark for all others to hopelessly seek. The now will be forever envisioned in each other’s eyes and made more beautiful. Time will never simply tick away, but be the metronome of our heartbeats in sync. Though sadness inevitable for it is this love of life, love of love and love of words to express that may seemingly leave too little time for true love, it is not I assure you, for time can concentrate, intensify and encapsulate. Be my ecstasy and I forever yours. Two timers need not apply as heart breakers divide and multiply, others free to indulge and imagine with me a mutual double fantasy. Seeking inspiration, passions and enthusiasm with enthused inspired passion. Innuendo not implied for it is implicit. Thus is me, I conclude.
Hopelessly Hopeful…
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~
Seven digits and change begun.
I hung up quick but the phone had rung.
My number left on the caller screen.
She rang back soon but wasn’t mean.
My change of heart was understood.
A question answered is always good.
It wasn’t time to make that call.
Perhaps again, another Fall.
~*~
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Chapter 1 ~ the Beginning
.
All’s quiet this early winter’s night.
Embers fade in the candles dancing light.
I was thinking of Christmas, many years past.
Those fond old memories, now fading fast.
.
I recalled when our home came alive.
I was just a small girl of about five.
It was a grand old house for mom, dad and me.
Sat perched on a hill overlooking the sea.
.
It’s still a museum in our little town.
It was built by a General of historic renown.
Shared with his bride Martha, she had a sad life.
The General’s a hero, she a young widowed wife.
.
We cared for the house and gave the tours.
All year-long we opened our doors.
We welcomed the guest to step back in time.
So come on in and share our rhyme.
.
I lay awake and tossed and turned.
Thinking of school and all I learned.
Letters and numbers and new friends,
I hope kindergarten never ends.
.
My thought disturbed by shapes on the wall,
a moonlit dance, shadows big and small.
It pranced to my table that’s set for tea.
There’s a seat for Teddy and Dolly plus one for me.
.
It climbed the chair with a dancer’s grace.
She must be a girl with a whiskered face.
Dolly left some crumbs on her plate.
When I remembered it was too late.
.
I Left a treat each night for a week.
I tried staying awake to catch a peek.
I’ll call her Martha, like our homes bride
But when I giggled she ran to hide.
.
Chapter 2 ~ New Friends
.
The days passed, she’d visit most nights.
She kept unseen until I turn out the lights.
She knows I’m cozy in my warm bed.
She smiles and winks, thankful she’s fed.
.
One night I waited, still in my chair.
Starlight warmed the chilly night air.
Eyelids dropped like the falling moon.
I hope my visitor gets here soon.
.
Night turned to-day, feet cold on the floor.
I missed my friend but goodies no more.
The next night I brought a cookie to bed.
I woke with my new friend by my head.
.
Days got colder, Christmas was near.
I looked forward to the snacks we share.
Each passing night our friendship grows.
We chat and laugh, I scratch her nose.
.
Thanksgiving’s past, Santa’s on his way.
The tree goes up, brighter each day.
We’re happy to welcome all our new guests,
while I wore my new colonial dress.
.
I tell them of the homes long past,
Of all that’s lived here, my family last.
I tell them of their history.
But never a word of Martha and me.
.
On the last day of school before the break,
we celebrated with carols and cake.
We shared cards and hugs then on our way.
We’re off to the bus and our long holiday.
.
Glad to be home, much to be done.
Baking and wrapping with mom will be fun.
I think Christmas is the best time of year.
There’s lots of visits from friends far and near.
.
Chapter 3 ~ Good and Bad
.
It’s not just gifts that makes Christmas best.
It’s all the excitement, no time for rest.
One snowy day mom and I went to town.
Main Street’s so merry, never a frown.
.
When we returned from our last-minute shop,
we saw a truck with a light on top.
A man in a hard-hat talked with my dad.
They both spoke quietly and looked very sad.
.
My parents whispered, thought I didn’t hear.
Something’s was broken too much to repair.
Said we’re leaving, where they don’t know.
I loved our home and didn’t want to go.
.
I gave the last tour on that very sad day.
We finished our cocoa with little to say.
Mom read aloud then kissed me goodnight.
Dad tucked me in, turned out the light.
.
I lay sobbing at the loss of our house.
No new friends, no Martha the mouse.
I then had a plan and ran for my bank.
Shook out the coins and my little heart sank.
.
Martha came close, she knew I was sad.
I forgot the snacks but she wasn’t mad.
We counted my pennies in moonlight,
then crept downstairs later that night.
.
We tucked my bank under the tree.
It’s for our old house from Martha and me.
But one last thing and then back to bed.
A snack for Martha and a pat on her head.
.
My dad woke me early that Christmas day.
I knew he was sad, he smiled anyway.
We met mom in the hall, headed downstairs.
We all acted happy while holding back tears.
.
Chapter 4 ~ New Beginnings
.
The cookies were gone, Santa was here.
Beneath the tree, present are there.
But shocked to see something I’d never seen.
There are stacks of coins, sleeping mice in between.
.
They ate Santa’s cookies then took a nap.
All snuggled together in the Christmas wrap.
Sleeping soundly until mom screams.
Then all were awakened from their dreams.
.
Martha stood out front and winked at me.
She waved me over to come and see.
The piles of treasure they found last night.
That was lost under the floorboards out of sight.
.
The Generals treasure, his coins of gold.
There’s enough to fix our homes splendor of old.
Martha saved our house and Christmas too.
She helped write this rhyme to share with you.
*
We wish you the best this holiday.
May all your days be just your way.
We’re glad to have shared our time as one.
From all of us here at our house of fun.
.
The End
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~*~
Love is someone you adore
You couldn’t love them any more
You love them to their very core
You love them when there is no more
~
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~
Waking up’s the best time of day.
What will I wear, what will I play?
It’s time to think of things to do.
First find my pants and missing shoe.
~
Wipe from my eyes the sleeps last trace.
I’ll brush my teeth, wash hands and face.
My bed’s made, teddy’s on pillow,
But one last hug before I go.
~
To the kitchen, mom will be there,
Making breakfast for us to share.
We chat about things to be done,
Some of it work, some of it fun.
~
Finish dressing put dreams away.
It’s time to start a brand new day.
That’s why waking up is the best.
But can’t do that without your rest.
~
The End
*
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(Memories of birthdays past)
*
I saw today my baby’s start
Opened her eyes and stole my heart
~
I saw today her smile at me
We brought her home, safe as can be
~
I saw today her tucked in bed
Gently leaned over to kiss her head
~
I saw today my baby weep
Snuggled her gently back to sleep
~
I saw today my baby eat
Covered from head to little feet
~
I saw today my baby sit
Then fell over in a giggle fit
~
I saw today my baby crawl
Tried to escape down the hall
~
I saw today my baby stand
Holding my finger in her hand
~
I saw today my baby walk
Then soon after began to talk
~
I saw today my baby run
Laughing and screaming, having fun
~
I saw today her surprise art
The wall and it shall never part
~
I saw today she bruised her knee
Climbed too high and fell from the tree
~
I saw today her play tattoo
0n her belly, red, green and blue
~
I saw today her find a cat
Opened the door and that was that
~
I saw today her ride a bike
Though too young to be off her trike
~
I saw today she learned to swim
Tub’s full, splashes over the rim
~
I saw today her play a song
Tiny violin with bow so long
~
I saw today my baby grew
She had to shop for something new
~
I saw today her off to school
Not holding hands, acting cool
~
I saw today she was funny
On the coach napping with bunny
~
I saw today her go to the dance
Just for fun and not for romance
~
I saw today her drive a car
I hope she doesn’t go too far
~
I saw today her graduate
Then off to college, she’ll do great
~
I saw today my baby grown
Off to the city, on her own
~
I saw today her new career
Making art for people to wear
~
I saw today she’s just like us
The best of both, with little fuss
*
The Beginning
~*~
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~
People that yell have nothing to say.
People who yawn sleep all day.
People who sniff also smell.
Preachers of lies go to hell.
`
Thieves take for their greed.
The meek give when in need.
The globe’s split by distant light.
Half is day. Half is night.
`
Half is X. Half is Y.
Thunder booms in forever sky.
Drowning reason with buoyant screams.
Pushed and pulled to all extremes.
`
Hiding behind a glass veneer.
The mirror see’s we all don’t share.
But share we must our only place.
For life’s reflection, not a race.
`
The End
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My pencil in hand – mind set free
Erasing the chains binding me
Safe in my world of poetry
A better friend there cannot be
No rhyme or reason there’s to flee
No shackles of society
No meter of conformity
No question of sincerity
No judge, jury or guilty plea
No door can stop my slender key
I’ll wander through infinity
Another side of life’s journey
Draw lines that know no boundary
Return with words for all to see
Arrange them well – create beauty
Then thank my little piece of tree
~
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On the edges of town unseen
Rents are low, space unclean
Rooms stacked high, all eyes to sky
Standing tall to die or lie
Looking down to sit it out
Hearing only another’s shout
Sleep beckons if you dare
Wasting away today’s nightmare
Hallways linger, stairs to climb
The roof’s the answer just one time
Seconds count days made
Weeks blind night’s shade
Darkness eases the morning light
A choice to choose to pick a fight
Ideas rhyme yet make no sense
Timely babble of now and whence
Mind’s clear but for fog
This tale needs an epilogue
The prologue screams for its end
Borrowed time free to lend
Random words slapped in place
Precise meaning slaps my face
Conclusions rushed making time
All indivisible in our prime
Neighbors wave in disgust
Tidal changes of love and lust
The future awaits, now once more
Now to only find the door
*
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When I was small, my friend was tall.
Through my window it watched me grow.
Friends always near though winters bare.
Waiting for spring, leaves green, birds sing.
~
Sit in the shade, memories made.
Arms are growing, leaves are glowing.
Branches so high – climb to the sky.
Or ride the swing, picnic to bring.
~
Then soon its fall, colors for all.
Float to the ground – pile in a mound.
Jump in and play, brisk autumn day.
Another year past all sprouting fast.
~
Leaves shake, wind blows, hot days, cold snows.
We’ve stood together in all-weather.
But when I’m all grown, out on my own.
I’ll miss my tree and it’ll miss me.
~
The End
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~
Oh tiny ant where do you go?
You dash and flitter to and fro
Treading over floor of wood
In search of something surely good?
.
Oh lowly ant what do you seek?
With every rise another peak
With every gap another turn
Oh tiny ant what do you yearn?
.
Burdens weigh upon your back
Up and down your random track
Your only goal to share with all
Yet chances great you will fall
.
Oh lowly ant where did you go?
There are things I need to know
In a blink you disappear
Homeward bound? Or not I fear
.
Oh tiny ant no more to see
Oh lowly ant you are me
~*~
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~
People who live in
glass towers shouldn’t throw stones
or be president.
~*~
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