This was a project I did basically during the pandemic. I started writing a poem a day. Once ‘real life’ started again it got harder to write everyday, which is interesting.
I have started to edit some of these mostly the kids poetry. I think there might be enough here for a book. We shall see.
the writer in the lab
boiling words
mixing phrases
letter filled beakers
sentence blazes
preposition powders
verb based compounds
bonding meaning
testing for sound
hypothesis made
reaction starts
add the catalyst
touch the heart
are you going to give up?
you have a great idea
it seems the perfect thing
you imagine a bright future
you hear your heart...it sings
you start climbing up the mountain
toward the glorious goal
but one day as you travel
you fall into a hole
what once seemed so important
the brightest prize ahead
its golden pull has weakened now
the aliveness feels so...dead
this heavy kind of feeling
it fills your inner cup
now the measure comes to pass
are you going to give up?
will you keep on going
no burning beacon hot
can you keep on trudging through
wanting to or not?
Playing with Iambic Pentameter
Do you know how to name a foot in verse?
The word I found and learned today — iamb.
It is the thing that gives this line its pulse.
You can hear it if you start out da DUM.
No stress, then stress, no stress, then stress, to ten.
And then, of course, you can break all the rules.
I almost forgot!
I almost forgot my poem!!
What would happen then?
Would I be ok?
Would the world be at its end?
I’m really only teasing.
I know that wouldn’t be.
The only person to notice
would likely be just me.
And you, my most loved reader!
You might notice too.
You have no idea how much I love you
for doing what you do.
For reading as you can,
for sending little hearts,
for joining me on this adventure
as I get closer to my art.
Thank you for joining me and reading when you can, it means the world to me. Happy Friday ❤️
a taste
wishes and dreams, memories too
float up like warm air
try to walk inside to see
you find nothing real there
the ghost of a hope, the specter of a past
laced with many flavors
salty sweet or bitter filled
some yearning to be savored
you can enjoy a moment
a taste, an echo, a touch
of these ephemeral delights of mind
perhaps that is enough
the land and the water
the water falls to land
the land shapes to bowl
the land feels a cradle
does water feel a hole?
she must feel contained
why else make a stream?
designed to escape
how does it seem
to land who gives way
allows the wild flow
water pushes downward
he lets her go
toward the great union
the ocean deep and vast
stream turns to river
as land holds her fast
these two lovers
as they relate
locked in connection
a story, forever great
of her, wild water
of him, solid land
love displayed for all
in caress of sea and sand
The Trite Truth
I love my new grey slippers,
I love a yummy lunch,
I love my Apple Pencil
and iPad really quite a bunch.
That is all just stuff though,
the truth so very trite —
the people in my life
are what truly make it bright.
I’m thankful for the people
who share their life with me.
Each of them is special,
they’ve made me who I’ve come to be.
snow blower
softly blanketed
neverland
outside my
window
bursts of noise
loud grinding
outside my
window
everyone in a
rush
B-e-a-u-t-y
Behold the strange condition
each of us is in —
alone in a great mystery, only
understanding our small piece of the world; but
then, there is
you.
F-R-I-D-A-Y
Finally end of week arrives
Relax and revitalize
Ingest more than you should
Dawdle through the neighborhood
Allow your look to be a little rough
Yes, Monday will come soon enough
true of heart
a person who is true of heart
who says she will and does her part
on whose word you can rely
never would she tell a lie
this person matters more than gold
trust a treasure to behold
the little fox
there is a little fox
he lives close to her house
she sees him out at night
likely hunting mouse
she wishes should could know him
find out his true name
she thinks he might not talk to her
and questions if he’s tame
but she goes on hoping
imagining her new friend
all his fur and whiskers
she would like to tend
she has a sense of wonder
this little girl we meet
and i agree with her
a fox friend would be neat
this isn’t how the world works
you or i could tell her
but why ruin such a nice dream
can you remember how we once were?
she sees the world as someplace
her visions come alive
some day soon the spell will break
that part of her will die
maybe when she’s older
she will see another fox
the memory might be enough
the wonder box might unlock
the funny thing about that outcome
if it were to be
the fox will have been the reason
that seems a little magical to me
life’s big circus
the world is always whirring
seems to never stop
the constant little buzzes
hisses, whooshes, pops
i wonder what it sounds like
to have no noise at all
like a little koan
can you hear it fall?
the never ending hubbub
all part of life’s big circus
tuning to the truest tones
a fine and mighty purpose
a hard thing
i said i’d do a hard thing
i gave my very word
but now the time is creeping by
and i feel absurd
i didn’t realize fully
how hard the thing would be
and now i’m looking at a choice
do i stay or do i flee?
the answer is quite clear
when you write it out
stay and do the hard thing
there really is no doubt
you have to keep your word
it has value beyond measure
to trust yourself when things get hard
a most highly valued treasure
charge
I’m out of charge
my phone just died
my laptop stopped
my willful side has been dried
He’s out of charge
his money’s gone
his gun won’t shoot
his name just John no more Don Juan
She’s out of charge
she missed the cape
she let them off
from red tape she did escape
We aren’t in charge
the time goes by
we work and try
we look to the sky and wonder why