NaPoWriMo ~ Day 30

At last, the final poem!  This has definitely been a challenge for me.  I can stop blogging for the next 31 days now, right?  I've paid my dues!  LOL!

THE LAST POEM

It’s ten o’clock in the morning,
the students are filing in.
I’d rather be at home alone,
my king-sized bed adorning.

It’s three in the afternoon, and
the classes are finally done.
I wish I could have spent the time
on something stupendously grand.

It’s ten o’clock in the night time,
the papers are still not complete.
I’m drowsing with this grading,
so please don’t expect a cute rhyme!


© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 29

LIMERICK #2

A tired young lady uptown  
sat drooping, her head hanging down,  
for when she tried 
hard to mimic the Bard,  
the bad rhymes they made her face frown.
© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 28

GUILT-RIDDEN
It eats away at  
the soul’s delicate fabric --
shredded, tattered...gone.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 27

(Based on an ongoing reflection on what love is, who loves, and how...and as you can see, I'm as befuddled now as when I first began to think on it!)

LOVE IS LOVE

You cannot prescribe,
like valium for the nerves,
the ways of love.

You cannot describe,
in facile metaphors,
the ways of love.

You cannot explain,
though theories abound,
the ways of love.

You cannot defeat,
in gladiator style,
the ways of love.


© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 26

(Sorry...this got posted on my other page here yesterday.)

STRANGER IN THE PARK
(Or "The Handshake")

He extended
an exceptionally large,
well-manicured  hand,
with long piano-player fingers.
If he’s an axe murderer,
he’ll be the only one
with such beautiful hands,
I thought.


© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 25

THIRST
 
He bent his head
and took her mouth
as though he were
dying of thirst
and she
was the well
in the desert.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Days 23 and 24

Day 23

(Instructions by the midwife to the grandmother once the baby is born, in the BBC period drama “Call the Midwife”.  The list below, in the senryu, represents the contemporary response to such a request.)

“SOMETHING WARM AND CLEAN”

Cotton onesies, blankets,
tiny socks for tiny feet,
mittens, and a hat.


© 2013

Day 24

RUNAWAY

She had run away,
disappearing from life
while she figured out
how to live for herself,

and not for children,
or a husband
she should never have married
and spent all her adult years with
till they parted.

A solitary tear escaped,
plopping
like a fat witness against her
onto the table.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 22 (Uh huh, late again!)

(What can I say?  I fell asleep?)

LIMERICK

There once was a girl in a city
who thought that her words were real pretty.
She essayed to compose
perfect rhymes just like those
of the Bard, in a once-daily ditty.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 21

HER MISSING HIM

Whisper-soft,
the feeling sidled
with silent tread
into her heart.

Clarion-loud,
it spoke its plan
to rest awhile
inside her heart.

Crystal-clear,
it marked its turf
in vivid hues
around her heart.


© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 20

COMPARISONS

Laughter is
like waterfalls
after rain.

Laughter is
like high tide
after low.

Laughter is
like sunburst
after storm.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 19 ( Yes, I know it's late!)

SPRING STORM

Shards of cutting light,
and thund’rous themes of drum rolls,
waken the darkness!


© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 18

GOODNIGHT POEM

I don’t know what to write about.
Perhaps the time of day
inhibits my inventive brain,
and keeps good thoughts at bay.

Whatever’s wrong, it’s too late now
to try to make it right.
I’m tired, and it’s very late,
I’ll just give up the fight!

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 17

(A two-fer, because I couldn't decide which to choose.  These are, once again, found poems from two of my stories.)

CONTENTMENT

He felt the serenity
just like at Christmas --
all was right, then...
the boy belonged.
 
Now he'd met her,
the man was hooked.
Here she was,
still reeling him in.

FREE FALL

We fell.
A scream escaped
into the dark night air.
The stampede
and the thunder
returned
a split second
before we landed

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 16

(In defense of my title, please note the third definition below:

"po·et·ics  (p - t ks)

n. (used with a sing. or pl. verb)

1. Literary criticism that deals with the nature, forms, and laws of poetry.

2. A treatise on or study of poetry or aesthetics.

3. The practice of writing poetry; poetic composition.")

POETICS

Some poems come in thunderclouds,
like grumbling, grouchy men
that roar and thud and thrash about
like lions in their den.

Some poems come on quiet feet,
like children sneaking in
to beg forgiveness for their play,
because they raised a din.

Some poems come on fairy wings,
like butterflies in flight
dance up and down the pretty blooms
that make the garden bright.

Some poems come on wisps of air,
like babies’ sleepy sighs
that puff out rosy lips and cheeks,
breaths of God in disguise.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 15 (Late)

THE PACKET

I opened it,
excitement whizzing through me
like bubbles.

The envelope was plain,
white, the name and address typed
in black letters.

I knew what was inside,
or so I thought, until I saw
the little picture book.

I touched it,
pressing my lips over
his gift.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 14

MUSICAL

To combat empty feelings
why not try this remedy?
Listen to some country songs,
some gospel and smooth jazz.

Round it out with feeling...
sing along with “Brown Eyed Girl”
shake  your boodie to the beat
of the “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” song.

Nod your head to Kenny Chesney,
“Don’t Blink” ‘cause time’s moving on,
Chuckle as Harry and Nat sing
“Mamma look a boo boo dey!”

Bebe, Cece, Alvin Slaughter
touch the spirit deep inside
where you wish for more than songs
to fill the aching void.

To combat empty feelings
why not try this remedy?
Gospel, country, rock and roll --
try music for the heart.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ 13

LOVE IS YOU

She sat down to write
a letter in response...
a thank-you, as was right.

The words came slowly
upon the bright screen...
she didn’t feel worthy.

The tears flowed as she wrote,
knowing who she was...
“Thank you” ended the note.

She clicked “Send”, and read
the poem’s precious words...
“Love is you” it said.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 12

CAREFREE

Her lighthearted songs
give new meaning to the sounds
of happy childhood.

Her tuneful singing --
easy, effortless, joyous --
makes my heart sing, too.


© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 11

WARM

Warm
is plush,
soft,
striped socks
on chilly feet.


Warm
is thick,
hard,
strong hugs
round shivery arms.

Warm
is kind,
sweet,
tender words
to frozen hearts.

© 2013

NaPoWriMo ~ Day 10

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!

His rheumy eyes
(the irises film-covered)
shine a welcome for me.
The number of his years,
that measures his time here,
is not
the sum total
of his true selfhood.
He is more than
eighty-six.

His trembling hands
(it’s growing worse)
try for a grip of pleasure.
The quality of his strength,
that measures his life here,
is not
the sum total
of his true manhood.
He is more than
a spent force.

© 2013