Freedom
We exited
off the freeway
to wind around
country boulders.
Off-road-shoulder
placards expressed
state of rural
independence:
“Deer may cross”
“Rocks may slide”
“May flood when it rains”
“Horseback riding allowed”
Posts tagged ‘poetry’
Image
Paradox
The tidy deserve
messy comforts and
grateful expressions.
The fierce admire
tough challenges that
suspend all chuckles.
The clumsy amble
irked by bright glimmer
spangled in their eyes.
The deceived complain
and exaggerate
great astonishment.
The fleet and versatile,
by coincidence,
perform and delight.
Hangings
Warp of rosy ribbons
weft of thorny dread
soft and roughly twined
erratic tapestries
I weave within my mind
At the window I view
looms of crowning limbs
and undulating leaves
where wefting windy ropes
cross warps of silken breeze
Weather at last eases
bindings cut and gone
standing free garden tree
once again embroiders
tranquil greenery
Patience and Fortitude
When Fahrenheit rose uncomfortably
up several degrees internally,
thermometer neared one hundred and two,
the abnormal heat caused my shivers too.
Decided to follow voices I’d read,
fever burns virus until it is dead,
without those pharmaceutical effects
that can cause kidney or liver defects.
“Won’t take medicine, are you serious?
Perhaps, illness has made you delirious.”
“Look, I’m still taking my blood pressure pill,
and adhere to multi-vitamin drill.”
I moaned at well-intentioned suggestions,
and groaned rather than answer his questions.
I allowed sickness to follow its course,
slowly got better, and am not divorced.
Not A Pen Pal (Day 9: apostrophe, meaning 2nd person)
My poem got trapped in a Pen.
“Please, Pen, begin to write again.”
Snobby as a Fountain, Pen clicked,
“Your rhyme’s not worthy of my ink.”
“Release my words on paper here,
it’s not your job to judge or jeer.”
“Stanzas neither worthy nor sage,
I won’t allow upon a page.”
“You’re so old fashioned and cruel,
soon, you’ll be a dry fossilized tool.”
With that, I snapped on Pen’s cap,
and moved blank notebook from my lap.
Pen’s critique sounded much muter,
when I turned on my computer.
But, I feel somewhat frustrated,
poem’s still hidden and hated.
Repetitive Pleasures (Day Eight, Epistrophe)
Night crept out
window’s mouth,
scented breeze
singing trees,
early morn
coffee warm,
again.
Grabbed a cup,
toast popped up.
paper news,
ink-black views,
daily chores,
then outdoors,
again,
again.
Walked with dog,
ravens called,
flowery scene,
southwest green,
season brings
near same thing,
again,
again,
again.
Evening mixed
dinner fix,
greet, speak, eat,
watched TV,
minutes gone,
day moved on,
again,
again,
again,
again.
Day 7: Found Poetry from “The Daffodils”
Stretched lake breeze,
ten thousand trees,
continuous bay,
milky waves,
lonely twinkle,
solitude hills,
daffodils pensive,
golden thoughts.
——
The Daffodils
William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A Poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Old Movies (Day 6: Screen/Enjambment)
Sometimes before falling asleep in bed
I tune in people who now are long dead.
Glamorous actors from last century
look stylish in dramas or comedy,
film noir, or high jinks of action frolic
city bustle or somewhere bucolic.
Cinema loved a storybook romance
feelings expressed in a well-rehearsed dance.
Entertainment sang on Hollywood lots
before stars got cast into dark, final plots.
On my screen they shine without special effects,
computer zombies, or uncomfortable sex.
Limericks (Day 5)
Found random words to rhyme about:
lazy, lout, pig, snout, sauerkraut.
I’ll doggerel combine,
in limerick time,
to put off scrubbing my bathroom’s tile grout.
That lazy Lout guzzled vermouth,
showed potbelly and looked uncouth.
A picture of sin,
with bottle of gin,
and when not drinking, he fed his sweet tooth.
As to a snout, little I know,
it’s needed for truffles to go.
You might ask French hog
or look at his blog,
Couch Lout’s likely viewed an animal show.
It might taste good but sauerkraut stinks,
spread on hot dog or sausage link.
Meat made from pig snout,
“Goes with beer,” burped Lout,
then, grease on his shirt, he died in a blink.
Limericks are completely done,
such silly lines but I had fun.
Now, I am sincere,
I had no Lout here,
and thanks, but no thanks, please don’t bring me one.
Some May Hard-Boil (day 4 journey/simile)
What’s inside contains
the same. However,
before the journey,
to be marketed,
like people, eggs get
grouped by their color.
Written
on March 8, 2019