New Year Triolet

New Year Triolet

So New Year's Eve is looming near

another year has bit the dust

so now it seems perfectly clear

there's nothing to be done but cheer

while watching Times Square's falling sphere

the ball falls slowly as it must

all drink champagne or maybe beer

and toast to future undiscussed.

Thus New Year's Day arrives again

the slate is clear of all mistakes

and cries of peace good will toward men

are heard in forest field and glen

and no one can remember when 

the year began with such large flakes

as  nature rings a strong amen

and dreams float atop translucent lakes.

New Year

New Year

No, I don't make resolutions any more;
I always break them anyway.
No reason to set myself up
for disappointment, self hatred,
condemnation, failure
or to point an accusatory finger
at myself for what I could not do
what I did not overcome or achieve.


No, I don't make resolutions anymore;
instead I think about intention
even much more than half heartedly.
I know what I endeavor may fall short
but that with intention I will move
in the right direction, and though
I may not  achieve total success
it will be all right in my own eyes.

Choice of words makes all the difference!

This is written for Sunday's Poetry Pantry.

Time

Time

When I was a child

waiting for something special

I wanted to happen

time passed especially slowly.

The day before my birthday

crawled by haltingly

and when I lay in bed

on Christmas Eve it seemed

that Christmas morning 

would never come.

Now as an adult  I wonder

how I ever thought

time moved slowly.

This is written for G-Man's 55!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like.....

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...

White gifts from heaven

manna in the wilderness

world blessed with white.

Snowflakes fall softly

beat of angel wings

trees laden with snow.

Reflections in darkness

stars shine above

one brighter than all.

Tree lights flicker 

candles radiate bright

flames leap and glow.

Season is passing

manger awaits birth

faith born anew.

I rest before the hearth

gaze into dancing flames

silence prevails inside and out.

But shhh do I hear bells

could it be a sleigh

do I see deer tracks in snow?

Wishing all my poet friends from around the world a very Merry Christmas!

The Same Old Story

The Same Old Story

This year again my heart and mind returns

to the simple story I read each year,

the story of the babe that never gets old.

Do I really know?

I reflect once more on Mary's childbirth pains

as she gives birth in a simple stable

and wonder her thoughts as she cradled her Child.

Did she really know?

I think of Joseph's kindness in a situation

that surely he did not fully comprehend

but for which he must have felt responsible.

Did he really know?

I contemplate the shepherds with their sheep

as they followed wherever the star led them

keeping eyes to the sky with trusting faith.

Did they really know?

I consider the wise men and their gifts

giving their blessings to the swaddled child

so humbled before their lowly little King.

Did they really know?

And I ponder still today as I reread the story

so old yet always new each Christmas Eve

if my life reflects who this Baby is to me.

Do I really know?

This is written for / submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry!

The Perfect Gift

The Perfect Gift

I was Christmas shopping today,
trying to find the perfect gifts
(yet knowing there are no perfect gifts),
feeling under pressure
as I wandered through aisles
looking for what might not be needed
but what would be appreciated
and not returned (despite gift receipts).
Now gifts are wrapped and displayed;
I hope for the best.

This is written for G-Man's 55!  Go tell it to the G-Man!
Merry Christmas to all of you!

Wondering

Wondering

I don't know if it is preferable

to be outside looking in

or inside looking out

both lonely positions 

but not as lonely as

being trapped between the glass

unable to climb out

unable to climb in

unable even to scream!

This is written for the last Poetry Jam of 2013,
inside looking out; or outside looking in,
before a small break until January 7

Children at Christmas

Children at Christmas

There is nothing like
the sound of children's voices
singing of Christmas.

Though I believe as an adult
it is children singing
that point the way tonight.

God bless the children
and their simple faith
this season of the year.

It is the children who
every year lead me back
to the humble manger.

There is nothing like
an unquestioning faith
this time of year.

It is the children who
show me all I need
is uncomplicated faith.

I believe!

Saturday night I attended a church Christmas concert that awed me.
I think we can learn SO very much from the children.  I am sharing 
this with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Year's End

Year's End

Another year has come to end
with peace on earth good will toward men
the candle has burned down again
to this year we say loud amen
before we into future wend
the candle has burned down again
and there is nothing to pretend.

The candle has burned down again
but  then a new one will be  lit
the future on horizon then 
the candle has burned down again
I do look forward, yield my pen
I'll write my poems I will admit
the candle has burned down again
but words of mine remain starlit.

This triolet is written for MY prompt at dVerse for Poetics on Saturday: 
Candles and Light and Winter Solstice.  I do hope I will see you there. The prompt goes live at 3 p.m. Eastern!

Christmas Tree

Christmas Tree

My 

Christmas 

tree went up 

today; it didn't go 

up last  year when I felt 

lazy, indifferent, dispirited, 

thought it didn't matter to me  

or anyone 

else and my grandchildren 

had their own tree at their own 

house;  but this year I decided I

would care anyway, and Christmas would be

special 

and very

 visible.

This is shared with G-Man's 55! 

If you Drive a John Deere

If You Drive a John Deere


We have bubblers here
you betcha we do,
and we drink pop too
though beer's the beverage
to drink with a brat
at the Frozen Tundra when
dressed in your blaze orange.

And everyone understands
when someone buys bakery
it's donuts not a building
you're getting, and it's
not uncommon for someone to
ask if you want to come with.

And people  might ask you
where-abouts you come from
and you might say up nort
but does it really matter
for cripes sake aina-hey
when you're doing fair-to-midlin.

And if you're pert-neer done
with a project you started
you might want to take a break
for a fish fry on Friday
before you go to Fleet Farm
where they gots lots of stuff,
believe you me, oh ya.

And there's nowhere better
to live than in this humdinger
state of  Wisconsin
where you can be proud
to be a cheesehead
any day of the week,
n-so, oh ya, uffda!

If you don't understand the above "English," you might want to consult the Chedderhead Dictionary.
This is written for Meeting the Bar, where Gay is having us write about what makes you and your language unique.

I Still Believe

I Still Believe

When I was a child I believed in fairy tales
and happily ever after and that the
cowboys with white hats always won.

When I was a child I believed good would triumph
hard work would always be rewarded
my parents would live forever.

When I was a child I believed in Santa Claus
and reindeer that flew through the sky
the Easter Bunny and tooth fairy too.

When I was a child I believed life was fair
that my friends would be friends forever
and never thought people had hidden agendas.

When I was a child I thought I could be
anything I wanted to be and I believed in Heaven.
As an adult I still believe............. in Heaven!

For Poetry Jam this week we are writing about Childhood Beliefs.

A Christmas Memory

A Christmas Memory

Silent Night played softly in the background

A child, I sat close to my mother on the sofa

in the living room, dark  except for illumination

of green and red lights on the Christmas tree.

We drank hot cider and watched reflections

from  headlights of passing cars

dance across the wall of the living room

and as they frolicked we counted them.

I asked my mother to tell me again

the stories from her childhood long ago

stories recounted innumerable times

but I never tired of her animated retelling.

She recalled for me the day she skipped

Sunday school, the time the boy

peed in her winter boot,  how her sister

and she washed dishes, couldn't stop laughing.

She told also of the Christmas a few years back

when I was only three years old and wanted

to say my own Christmas piece in church

though I was not old enough for the program.

It was cold outside, but I felt so very warm

sitting on the sofa in the dark with Mother,

sharing old stories, both hers and mine,

and I wanted those moments to last forever.

Shared for dVerse Open Link.

Mine

Mine

My words

my children

make me

smile

laugh

cry

learn

grow.

I accept them

love them

they are

imperfect

but mine.

Submitted for Poets United Poetry Pantry. Won't you join us on Sunday?

The Final Station

The Final Station

Little did I know when I watched my Lionel electric train 

travel  around the base of the Christmas tree when I was a child 

that it would transport me into the future, faster ever faster,

until the present day when I now look back and realize

that the distance traveled on the tracks behind me

is greater than the distance to be traveled ahead of me;

and I think about Advent and my own preparations

for His birth this year and wonder if I am ready

for the inevitable time the train will reach the final station.

This poem is written for dVerse Poetics, where one of Claudia's prompt ideas is "Advent."

Though the photo above was not a photo of my electric train, it seems to be a similar one.

Pain

Pain


The pain of
cracking head on the ice
stabbing pain in lower back
throbs of toothache or earache
pinching finger in car door
walking with blisters
indigestion or headache
sprained ankle or cortisone shot
do not hold a candle to the pain
caused by a disagreement
that cannot be settled
before one sleeps at night.

This "55" is written for dVerse Form for All  & also
for the G-Man!!

The Perfect Gift

The Perfect Gift

You ask me  what I want
     so I will simply say
I have received enough gifts
     to cover this and any holiday.

But there is one simple gift
     that would not cost a cent
the gift of an ordinary day
     would my happiness augment.

A day to rise so early that
   I'd see the rising sun and
moments to read a good book
   before the day was done.

A leisurely walk in the park
     a small dog by my side
coffee with a good friend
   in whom I could confide.

A letter from someone out of touch
   saying I remember you
a smile from a stranger that
   holds the door I walk through.

The joyful laugh of a child
   catching snowflakes on his tongue
a time to reminisce with one who
    remembered me when I was young.

You ask me  what I want
     so I will simply say
I have received enough gifts
     to cover this and any holiday.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt this week is 'gifts.'

December

December

December enters with stillness
snow falls silently
covers November brown.

Little girl stands in awe
snowflakes settle on her tongue
her eyes look up wanting more.

Winds blow strong some nights
shake the windows hard
dogs think there is an intruder.

The advent candles are lit
one candle at a time
reminding the world of hope.

The stars shine bright
light up the dark winter sky
I look for the special star.

The boy sits on Santa's lap
tugs at his shaggy beard
his last year to believe.

Carolers sing for shut-ins
O Holy Night
bear gifts of cookies.

The tree is decorated
stockings are hung and ready
home waits for the Day.

Past years are remembered
the times when there were
more at the table than now.

Fire in the fireplace

flames warm and dance

old stories are retold.

Laughter and good cheer

family and friends gather

the holiday is here.

December leaves with stillness

snow falls silently

bids the old year adieu.

This is shared with dVerse Open Link.

Old Tevas

Old Tevas

There are no shoes like old Tevas
long loved, soles worn down
color fading, used and abused
bearing ill effects of pavement
snow, rain, sand and mud.

But still they are the chosen
the most comfortable favorites
always alert for another journey
loyal, they wait by the door
uncomplaining and patient.

There are no shoes like old Tevas
venerated for their service
not to  be cast aside for the new
though they have lost their luster
they are the chosen, long loved.


This poem is written for dVerse Poetics, where Shanyn is having us write poems about shoes.  I can walk miles and miles in my Tevas!

Thanksgiving Dinner

Thanksgiving Dinner

Thanksgiving dinner is over
except for the welcome leftovers
which I will enjoy tomorrow
and tomorrow after that:

turkey breast, sweet potato,
corn bread, cranberry, stuffing,
pistachio and marshmallow salad,
more than enough for me --

but the leftovers of two pies
I sent home with my guests,
figured it was better (for me) that way.

This is shared with G-Man's Friday Flash 55 ......   only 55 words

Rejoice

Rejoice

Beauty of nature
beauty of love
forgiveness of sins
by God above.

Hug of a grandchild
time spent with a friend
a dog on a lap
memories that transcend.

Food on a plate
a warm bed to sleep
flames in the fireplace
poetry to keep.

Holidays with family
music to brighten day
coins in a pocket
some moments to play.

Rejoice.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where Laurie's prompt was to write a poem of gratitude without using the word "gratitude."

To Live Life

To Live Life

Hands are for comforting,
for waving and shaking,
for brushing back hair
to wipe away a tear,
not for striking a blow.

Arms are for holding,
for protecting and embracing,
for holding someone tight in
the middle of the night,
not for shooting a foe.

Legs are for dancing,
for walking and skipping,
for jogging and running
and pumping swings high,
not for kicking below.

Mouths are for laughing,
for speaking, for singing,
for the telling of stories
on a dark winter night,
not for cursing a beau.

Hearts are for beating,
for caring and loving,
for being cherished along
the path of life,
not for breaking the flow.

Lives are for living,
for working and playing,
for dreaming and hoping
and enjoying each day,
not for destroying the glow.

Hands for comforting,
arms for holding,
legs for dancing
mouths for laughing
hearts for beating --
    to live life fortissimo.

This is written for dVerse Open Link, where Bjorn is tending bar today!  Also linked to Poetry Pantry Open Link.

Calendar

Calendar


One day the calendar will just stop
I will die and you will go on living
my age will be fixed forever
written on a date I don't yet know

You will mourn my loss, shed tears,
remember my life as you knew it
then live on without my presence
as you must (as all mourners must)

Your calendar will move on, but
you will think of me at holidays
birthdays, or in certain restaurants
or when you are on certain streets

You will see my face in a crowd
do a double take and I'll be gone
you will cry sometime but
the tears will lessen with time

And life will go on after I'm gone
as life always goes on after loss
and the importance of the date I died
will fade, as it must, as it should

The day my calendar stops is not yet
and I hope it is many years away
but I just want you to know
when it does I'll die in peace

Happy to have been loved by you.

Posted for dVerse Poetics, where Victoria has prompted us to write about "calendar." Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Conversation

Conversation 

I ask a question

you answer 

happy to share

your experience

your thoughts

your wisdom

then your silence

you’ve finished

I reflect on your words

question more

you add detail

elaborate

I invite you to explain

you answer

smile

silence again

you then beam

proudly

and  ask

is there anything else 

you’d like

to know?

This is shared with G-Man and has exactly 55 words.  Go and tell it to the G-Man!

Ode to My Glasses

Ode to My Glasses

My glasses appraise

words I write

criticize my musings

With their sharpened view

are never reticent 

to tell me boldly

what I should redo

and I say thank you.

My glasses pierce me

find me flawed 

as I look in the mirror

powerless to hide

from their relentless

analytical gaze

and I say this is me.

My glasses sleep

when I sleep but

wake on command

to perform

their necessary tasks

never complain

even in the middle

of a restless night

and I am grateful.

Even though my

glasses are plain

far from elegant

they are ravishing

as they assist me

to see beauty

in the world and you
and I am content.

This is what came to me as I attempted to write an ode to Tony's prompt over at dVerse Form for All. Flawed as it may be, my glasses are pleased. Smiles.

Lightning

Lightning

Lightning may strike when you don't expect it

or it can be predictable but willfully ignored

like when you walk outside in a downpour

paying no attention to the black cloud overhead

or when you go to sleep with no plan in your head

to awaken suddenly with thoughts that never occurred before

lightning is unpredictable but one can expect its strike.

Gif File came from Wikimedia Commons.        This is shared with Poetry Jam, where the prompt is "Lightning" and with Poets United Verse First, where we had to write a seven-line poem.

Invisible - A Triolet

Invisible

I am invisible at night

but leave my door somewhat ajar

stay hidden from the brightest light

I am invisible at night

but yet I wonder how you are

and picture you somewhere afar

I am invisible at night

but leave my door somewhat ajar.

I am invisible at night

my heart and soul concealed from view

but hopes and dreams live out of sight

I am invisible at night

though I am ready to renew

I hope you will not misconstrue

I am invisible at night

but  hopes and dreams live out of sight.

Posted for dVerse Open Link.

As it Happens

As it Happens

Sometimes life turns out 

as you wanted it to

even though you didn't know

how you wanted it to

and when that happens

all you can do is 

look back and smile

about what you didn't know

but know now.

For Poetry Pantry

The Garden

The Garden


After wars and rumors of wars
had ravished earth and its people
earth had become uninhabitable.

Therefore Adamnh and Ėbaha
and others found to be worthy
had fled on the wings of Acrabiel

to the luxuriant planet Xeron
in the distant Galaxy Paradisio
where they built a new Garden.

For centuries harmony reigned
civilization developed and prospered
until the Xeronites discovered

that Acrabiel had fled their planet
and the lush Garden began to die;
it was only a matter of time........

This was written for dVerse Poetics for Bjorn's Science Fiction Poetry prompt!

The Dance

The Dance

And when she danced

it was as if she danced for the first time

and there was no one else ever

in the world but you

and though others were present

all she saw was you  

and she wished to dance the dance

with you forever

holding you close to her heart;

perhaps she will.

Written for G-Man's 55!.

Fifth Grade Teacher

Fifth Grade Teacher

She remembered her teacher jerked her arm hard to teach her to square dance.

She remembered her teacher made her run and run when she could not breathe.

She remembered her teacher embarrassed her in front of the whole class.

She remembered her teacher's hateful glare and how she was so afraid.

She remembered how the teacher smiled if there was an adult in view.

Today she remembers this was the only teacher she really hated.



This is written for dVerse, where Gay is having us write "American Sentences."  Each sentence has 17 syllables.

Coffee

Coffee

the difference between asleep and awake

warm brew that makes it possible

to rise and shine on those days

I would rather stay in bed

caffeinated bliss

heaven in a cup.

This is written for Poets' United Verse First where we are challenged to write a poem about something ordinary.  Photo source here.

The Last Time

The Last Time

If I knew it would be the last time
I would be able to hear your voice
I would carefully take in each thought
in each of your words rejoice.

If I knew it would be the last time
I would be able to see your face
I would contemplate every inch of it
so its memory I could embrace.

If I knew it would be the last time
I could tell you that I cared
I'd say all the words I'd been saving
no loving words would be spared.

If I knew it would be the last time
to see you wave good-bye as you go
I'd be more aware of the moment
and stand longer in your glow.

I often depend on tomorrow
to do what I didn't do or say today
but sadly I don't always know
what life will bring my way.

I am not guaranteed a future
beyond this one short moment
to say I love you or I'm sorry
thank you or you're important.

There will always be a last time
that will arrive on a future day
I must live and love with eyes wide open
whether the time is near or far away.

Written for Poetry Jam, where the post is "The Last...."

The Blessing

The Blessing

As a child he  shot his young brother in a hunting accident
his last view of his brother was with his face down in the snow
a small body with blood seeping slowly through his coat

and all his life asked himself why he was spared.

And he wanted his mother to hold him, but he couldn't say that,
and he wanted his mother to forgive him, and he couldn't ask
and the state trooper made him relay aloud the painful story

and all his life he asked himself why he was spared.

And he thought of Cain who killed his brother Abel, and  he
bore the mark of Cain.  Just as God would not let Cain die,
God did not let him die, his self hatred being a more terrible fate

and all his life he asked himself why he was spared.

And he tried to understand 'accident' and wondered if it was God's plan
in a benevolent way humans couldn't understand, or if God was Accident
and all was random and Accident ripped lives apart for no reason

and all his life he asked himself why he was spared

And it is in the human stories where human meanings begin,  and
the boy grows into manhood and pain  becomes blessing, blessing
becomes poetry, and beauty arises again despite the pain, but

still all his life he asked himself why he was spared.

I am reading Gregory Orr's memoir The Blessing.  Gregory Orr is 
my favorite poet.  This poem above is based on his story.  This is
shared with dVerse Open Link.

Photo found here.

My Rocking Chair

 

Childhood me holding a bunny named Pinky I still have.

                      My Rocking Chair

When I was young I used to go to my room

and sit in my rocking chair

an old faded padded one

that had belonged to my grandma.

While the rockers glided over the wooden floor

my mind conjured stories and dreams

remarkable dreams of life

as I hoped it would someday be.

As I rocked holding a doll or bear

I imagined my future rich with joy

fantasized achievements, conquests, love

and innumerable imaginative adventures.

Many hours I rocked in my chair

in substance only as my spirit soared,

propelled to distant lands, future times

by the magical vehicle only I knew.

Sometimes I yearn to visit the chair again

to help me envision remarkable dreams

but then I realize the future I dreamed is here

and I have long outgrown the rocking chair.

This poem is submitted to dVerse Poets Poetics for my prompt which is "childhood games or toys."  Hope you will join us.

Alone

Alone

Alone is

alone is born crying

alone is anything but lonely

alone is the only worthy guide

alone is nourishment for the soul

alone is worthy.

Alone is

alone is love

alone is sufficient

alone is not to blame

alone is best with a friend

alone is worthy.

Alone is

alone is the norm

alone is unchanging

alone is not cause for fear

alone is worth the ticket price

alone is worthy.

For dVerse Poets Pub...using "googlism."  I chose the word "alone" and used phrases from this list.

And this is a 55-word version of the poem for G-Man's 55!

Alone is born crying,

is anything but lonely
nourishment for the soul

and is worthy.

Alone is love

sufficient, not to blame

is best with a friend

and is worthy.

Alone is unchanging

the norm, not cause for fear

is worth the ticket price

alone is worthy.

Alone is born crying,
love unchanging.
Alone is worthy.

The Journey

The Journey

Her eyes on the mountaintops

she gathers strength from the moon

as she flows toward the ocean

swept along by the current

on the river of love.

Undeterred by crash and splash

she knows she will break free

into a thousand shooting stars

a stream of strength exploding

a waterfall of dreams.

This is written to the words in Ed's wordlist over at Real Toads.  Of the 21 words he listed, I used 13.  The words I used are italicized.

What I Know for Sure

My grandson & me -- a certainty in my life

What I Know for Sure

Two or three things I know for sure,
not more than that at a time.
Certainties change, are not static,
so what was sure yesterday
is not necessarily sure today.
One cannot know everything for sure.

Today I know for sure
life can flip in a heartbeat,
change course in a moment's time,
that the unexpected can turn
one's whole life around.

Today I know for sure
that time is finite and one
has to find a way to make
the most of it, acknowledging
we have only today.

Today I know for sure
love exists in the world,
love is connected with God,
and somehow things happen
between people for His good.

Two or three things I know for sure,
not more than that at a time.
Certainties change, are not static,
so what was sure yesterday
is not necessarily sure today.
One cannot know everything for sure.


This is written for my prompt over at Poetry Jam this week.  The prompt  is to write about 'two or three things I know for sure.'  Hope you will join us.  Also submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Tribute to Harry Chapin

Tribute to Harry Chapin

Could you put your light on please

as my dreams go by?

I want to let time go lightly,

to remember when the music

played only for us.

We grew up a little bit

as we traveled halfway to heaven,

a quiet little love affair,

each of us a shooting star.

Why should people stay the same?

The parade’s still passing by,

I know there is a better place to be.

There only was one choice:

you are the only song for me,

and now you own the only light.

I had  been thinking of Harry Chapin this past week.  For those unfamiliar with him, he was an American singer-songwriter who lived from 1942 - 1981.  He died in a car accident.  I used to really enjoy his music.  I think his most famous songs might have been "Cat's in a Cradle" and "Taxi." The italicized words above are all Chapin song titles.

I am submitting this poem for dVerse Open Link.   Image from Wikimedia Commons Images.  For anyone who does not know Harry Chapin....here is "Remember When the Music," one of my favorites.

Colorless

Colorless

There is no color to express

the sadness of missing

gray is not gray enough

black is not black enough

and words cannot express

the depth of feeling

of the missing

especially if one has 

never deeply 

missed before.

This is written for dVerse Poetics where the prompt is 'color'.

Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.