Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Hello Beautiful!

             Hello Beautiful!

             Have I told you lately what I love about you ?  I love your catching smile,
             your electric aura, the map of your nervous system, muscular and lymphatic,
             skeletal, too. Your purple veins throb faster, ecstatically, when I am close to
             you;   I love your super energy.
             Not to mention your red hot saucy, steamy sensuality.  Lest I forget your 
             poise, your intellect and grace, fine morals,  your true blue heart.  But what 
             colors you most - is your vital and winning personality, your soul of glittery 

             Forever yours

Looking down...looking up..

Today at Grace asks us to write poetry to the art of Cheryl Kelley which is like looking in a a kaleidoscope check it out here  for some fun.

Thirsty for coolness
to flow around me
I swim in the indigo sky with stars

Springs from whence I came 
shine in the distance,
their routes wayward
yet defined by mountains
phalo green, abergine,
burnt sienna
Obvious to the map maker,
breaks in the sea appear
and streamlined quinacridone gold bridges
carried me for the day 
                              leaving no footprint

Wearing my opera rose lipstick,
I played the lead for awhile -
until my legs gave out,
but not my heart
Beyond the sea
I found knowledge,
love and beauty
amid chaos, people screaming
My vision of the world,
through the stained glass window 
of my soul
where I found what I needed
most to know

Still I think to return
to the midnight star brigade
stretching my arms
in large strokes -
be the butterfly migrating
across the miles, 
the eagle with sharp eyes;
my thirst to be quenched,
soul renewed once more


Thursday, April 24, 2014

News of the week...

Over at Bjorn asks us to write poetic journalism, or a 'daily poem',  called 'dagsvers' in Sweden, and are usually about recent events in the news..


While  I  can' t  quite wrap  my head  around  it 
Brian Williams is rapping the news at a cool beat
Fallon' s  kicking  it on  the  Tonight  Show
For  living  green just  listen to  Michelle  O
The Mustang  is  50 years  old last  week   
It's Shakespeare's 450th say all the Tweets 
Now  that  tax  time is over until  next year
the focus is baseball - moves into high gear

The next thing we know there's another George!
His  parents  are  Kate M. and William  at  large
He' s  cuter  than  ever  at  eight  months  old
His  life  is  just  beginning  to  unfold..........
A  caring soul much like his grandmother, 
Di, and Paparazzi spreads rumors of a brother
Charming even when his nappy needs a change,
His  entire  life  is  already  prearranged             

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Easter ruba'i...

A place setting for twelve, and a host
no napkins, plenty of wine, no roast
Ring the supper bell, pull up a seat
and raise your goblets - to Him we toast

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Self portrait poem...

                                                                                                                     , my favorite poetic website; Brian asks us to write a self-portrait poem.  I really need more time to improve on this; some offerings are wonderful...

I am stardust,
a glint in my ancestors' eyes;
before, all was still
But with dragonfly speed
I travel, and when the owl cries "Who",
I answer "it's me in the tower of Babel"
A ponderer, critical thinker,
finding political games frustrating
and sad; in a wink I imagine
I can be anywhere -
I was a cowgirl,
a baseball mom,
have little hair
A nourishing spirit,
I am loyal, still waters run deep-
still impulsive, sentimental
I often spill over
and regenerate,
 muster my courage
again and again,
could almost BE
the ballet's premiere (just kidding,
no way)

I marvel at wind chimes'
and changes;
I blink, and suddenly a birthday candle
flickers for as long as it's able
Whispering meadows
become wallpaper on my soul
I'm a cottonwood blowing
in the wind, or on a wound,
sensitive, yet strong...
Surprisingly, sometimes,
a tincture of Mercurochrome
On a large plain brown paper bag,
I am painting my life,
a "wanna be" this or that;
doors opening, closing,
wearing a cranberry feathered hat
Sometimes a womb-like place
is all I seek,
but not without
the butterflies of adventure
I like wild berries with cream,
birds, driftwood hugging the shore
yet there is so much more to explore
To see everything virtually
is not my cup of tea,
rather sail the seven seas
sit once in Princess Grace's throne
All there ever was,
all that ever will be -
we are part of, I do believe;
And, to never be alone,

The universe is our oyster,
rubs us in the sands of time,
possible pearls to be exposed
Be the best we can be,
I suppose
And for interest of rhyme,
I cook mostly with thyme
Once I had a distinct desire
to do it all over,  but no -
it's all good,
would not trade gold for silver
or ecclesiastical attire


Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Photo art by Phyllis Galembo we are introduced to the photo art of Phyllis Galembo;
 we are to write a poem from one of her intriguing photos -

He had been the young king of hearts,

fondly thought of throughout the land;
he bestowed upon all he met fresh fruit tarts,
but perhaps he was dealt a bad hand
Men thought him the king of plenty 
for his gold alone, he lived on an island
He seduced ladies with glasses of champagne
liked them to be at least the age of twenty,
but from sex with them he did abstain
for they were ooh so pretty and innocenti 
Folks say he was pleasant, spoke gently; 
though they did not know he was insane

All twas not for his own personal gain
but it didn't pay, for his crown was taken away
Outcast and alone,  he was driven to feign
There is safety in the trees they say
So he lived as a tree twixt and twain
Though he had one fourth wheel missing,
he was, for all he did, more valiant knight 
First, he let all prisoners get away
and, as he was known for his kissing,
they grabbed him and locked him away
Soldiers put him in handcuffs tight;
his destiny became just an existing
Who can explain the turn of events-
 he became the king of the asylum,
first using his natural talents to start
by earning degrees in the fine arts
Proud of his aboriginal descent,
he still was crazy, one hundred per cent 

Monday, April 14, 2014

How many know the story? Poem # 14

I am unable to respond to others' poetry like I should so this is my last post on the NaPoWriMo website, although I will continue to write and post here for the rest of the month.  I am sorry for the lack 
of courtesy on my part.  All deserve to have their poetry read; I am far too slow at this to keep 
up with everything.
The prompt for today is to write a poem of 20 questions except for the last line.

Poem #14

How many know the story?
How old was the old oak tree?
Did the roosters crow in the morn so people could flea?
Was there no warning of bombs to hit the ground?
In 1936 why did the Germans attack an innocent town?
Why did 1400 people have to die in a 3 hour period of time?
Who remains in Guernica and what did it mean?
How many generations of people and acorns lost?
Was no one able to intervene?

How many now live in the little Basque town?
Have you been to the grotto there?
What symbol of freedom survived that unsuspecting day?
What now has replaced the rubble?
Where now do the people assemble to have their say?
What took the place of the huge old oak tree?
What, if any, village shops and businesses survived?
What was left after the carnage?
How many losses were of children's lives?

Is there anyone still living there who recalls?
What now stands as a memorial in the center of town?                                      
How have the families been remembered en masse?
Were some young trees kept alive?
Or is there a large stump encased in a protective case?
Have you seen the art Pablo Picasso achingly designed?
Do you know the place is guarded in marble and stained glass?
Who and how many will come to visit and come to know the story?

God bless the sacred ground of this small colony.        

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Worthy heir...Poem #13

WORTHY HEIR - Poem # 13   Writing kennings today...

Their  means of travel
is a Rolls-Royce
He steps out wearing a
penguin suit; she,
Princess Diana like gown
A conscientious and poised pair,
their demeanor is Savoir-Faire,
They have the ability
to communicate
between blue-blooded
and red-blooded citizenry;
are mind-worthy
of their nobility and crowns;
trendy yet traditional -
in a nice kind of way
Ladies in waiting bow,
soldiers stand attentively
But almost of walking age,
who is it that steals the show-
a handsome Prince George
who already seems to know
how to sieze- the- day
Certainly he'll grow
to be an officer-gentleman,
will be a genuine good leader,
Surely a worldly statesman.
Of course, too,
he will be a heart-breaker

Temper yourself

NaPoWriMo - Poem #12

When one creates a poem by replacing certain words, it's effectiveness depends on the words you this case I chose Key(tangible noun) and  Temper (intangible)and replaced the first with the latter in these Google definitions or traits of the first one..I'll be the first to say this is one of my worst efforts..just not in the writing mood today ;)

Learn how easy it is to open a personal bank account with temper   

His tempered manner set the tone of the meeting
A temper is something that secures or controls an entrance
Please use your temper when you reach the house.
One uses temper to specially fit into a lock and move it's bolt
Plan now for your trip to Temper with Florida Special Tourism
Sarah's Temper is the story of an American Journalist
Do you have the temper to the auditorium?
His speech was the temper that unlocked the mystery of the story
A temper to the puzzle must exist
In music, temper refers to pitch..use your ear to find the temper the note in a song
When you have a temper it means you are able to focus, tune into, or single out one thing
Temper in on the moment they start the race.
She was all tempered up before the program.  Tempering in brings a certain degree of intensity to feelings, energy, excitement
Temper is the equivalent to a kilogram of marijuana

Friday, April 11, 2014



Today we wrote about love and wine - -
 Poem #11


From a distance it appears a duo - 
dancing on horizon's line
Storm rains rinsed away oily heat,
leaving a drying mud glaze in time
If  old houses could speak and raindrops sing,
their otherworldly image would give way 
to laughter in the stratosphere
In A sharp major key, they'd waltz
up steps in the clouds sheer
He'd twirl her behind his back,
catch her as she came back to him 
And they would lift a glass of wine 

She's gone now,
 with that golden era gone by,
the Tennessee Waltz now passe'
I hear the banjo player slap his thigh
She was wife,  lover, best friend,
the melody of his soul, 
born from seeds sewn a century ago,
From which glint of the sun 
will she return to sit on my knee?
From what star will she descend,
tap my shoulder, 
make a toast to yesterday
and dance away with me?

Send me a letter,
 written in your fine hand;
tell me you are still mine
Take me down that unearthly road,
where bands of souls 
know their track back -
...and I do believe
I'll see you again,
drink your red lips of wine -
We'll dance to the Blue Danube
I'll scoop you in my arms,
carry you into the sunset's rain


Thursday, April 10, 2014

Poem as advertising... Poem #10

Poem # 10
Today we are writing a poem that is old Burma Shave signs.  I thought about Obamacare and all the people who will benefit from it and then this....


Our hearts are yours for the time you are here
For all your needs on us you can rely,
We're not  just a building or  place to work,
we are hands on healing, arms standing by
Whether you are waging a tough battle,
or confronting a serious disease
We're sentinel in the highest degree
Our hospital is a temple of care,
We offer you comfort if you dispair
Your health is our foremost priority
Stay well, no need for reciprocity


Wednesday, April 9, 2014

"We gotta get outa this place, if it's the last thing we ever do"...Poem #9


NaPoWriMo 7 - Poem #9


"We gotta get outa this place, if it's the last think we ever do"...
"I wanna hold your haaannnnd..."
"Good Golly Miss Molly"

Where did they go, the years,
the Sugar Sugar Shack crowd?
Just when I think I've come to grips
with the passing of time,
I'm reminded of those days
when all was new and changing,
and there was WAR...
Who were they?
WE pinned our goals on a calendar,
college, travel, service, a job -
 some went to 'Nam    
WE were teens who gathered,
caught amid protest songs;
not idle, but dying for our country
Boomers were tested and passed -
we were the voice for a generation
Each generation since has been tested,
has had it's turbulence,
but where are the demonstrations

"A Change is Gonna Come" -
Sam Cooke was born way before his time
Some 'fortunate sons'of privilege
never sent to war,
found greener pastures (Creedence Clearwater)
We "Got up, Stood up for our Rights" (Bob Marley);
we did not give up the fight,
our brothers marched'
Hattie Carroll paid a high price
for no reason (Bob Dylan)
"Power to the People" was sung (The Beatles)
song of the "Revolution",
The beat was carried on by others
who felt one ought not be judged
by the color of their skin
or where they came from
Frank Zappa sang "There was Trouble Every Day"
in 1966, "this ain't no picnic!"
Activism against "The Establishment"
was what was "Goin' On"-
perhaps the best song by Marvin Gaye;
asking what happened to his friends,
Abraham, Martin, and Bobby, John
Blood shed for dreams
of freedom for everyone.

Moms Mabley was color blind -
"We's all human beings"she cried
John Lennon moved the focus
from music to lyrics -
Locked into our memory also
are Crosby Stills and Nash with their
song about Kent State
The Iraq War brought other protest songs
to the foreground
Even as soldiers are arriving home
from Afghanistan there are still
"Lives in the Balance" (Jackson Browne)
and Neil Young now pumps Congress
for "No More Lies", jobs and healthcare
for veterans who fought on dessert sand -
and tell  them to see the world
as we do, but nothing can change
the sacrifices, staggering costs,
never before experienced
or anticipated
This gives me some hope because
I want to keep my soul of the 50's,60's, 70's -
the music and state of mind,
not the injustice;
part of my essence is locked there in time

NaPoWriMo 2014 - Poem #8 Nevermore ...

We are to re-write a famous poet's work today.  I chose 3 paragraphs from Edgar Alan Poe's poem and changed them, but did not do it full justice as it deserves..


Once upon a morning dawning, while I wandered, sleepy, yawning
across the meadow so green, overflowing with wildflowers multi-hued 
While I was prancing, so entrancing, suddenly I felt a glancing
As of some one advancing, advancing closer to my side
"Tis some admirer."  I stated, "romancing closer to my side -
               Only this, and nothing more."

Then this young handsome face appeared, startled me so truly I feared
for his manner was less friendly than the handsome young face he bore
Aghast at his audaciousness, I asked him, "Can I help you sir?"
His voice was taunt and sinister, his tone sent shivers through my core'
           Quothe the man, "Nevermore."

I marveled at his plain boldness and approached him with a cold frown
Though I did not understand his answer, so I questioned him more;
"My prince will be soon be here to see me home, leave me alone, kind sir."
Upon my heart I had promised to myself many years before:
        With not such a man again, "Nevermore"

Original -
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door- 
                Only this, and nothing more." 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. 
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, 
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore- 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" 
                Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door- 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, 
                With such name as "Nevermore." 

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Bargaining for treasures...

At Mary asks us:
What is your favorite treasure...not a monetary or jewelry type of thing, but what belongs to you that you treasure most, like a teddy bear? Difficult for me to say....

Bargaining for treasures...

How much for that vintage lamp?

$50?  How about $35?....$40?
I've found many "treasures" 
over the years, items inherited,
all close to my heart
But for me, to pick just one, 
is impossible
We buy items we didn't know 
we needed, an old doorknocker
One can't always get what one wants,
(and rightfully so), a stamp worth a mill'
 so be cautious -
Don't buy according to emotions
for fear someone else might

Estate or yard sales usually end

with both parties satisfied,
but in life's riskier bargaining,
 it's altogether different;
we all have done it 
( at one time or another)
Gambling is much the same
When souls become cards stacked
 on a table or numbered balls
 in a roulette game -
"I'll give up 'such and such' privileges -
if you just let me _ _ _ _", or
" if you give me _ _ _, I promise
 _ _ _ _; "or not, and so it goes

Life is not fair, we hear it all the time
We ask God to be the arbitrator;
we want to negotiate,
 cut corners
Saying it with a sincere, sweet smile 
Instead, we need to cut short
our losses,
know when to stop, slow, or go 
We know nothing certain 
of the future, except we're taught
adages like "acceptance" and "balance"
They are so overused; let your heart 
and mind together decide between 
the old painting and rusty watering can