Dusty Books

Dusty Books    

Childhood books, once loved, treasured,

now neatly organized, boxed, shelved, 
stored out of sight in dark basement,

seldom recollected, less often touched,

waiting patiently, ever so patiently, 
for someone to embrace them again,

for a child to turn their pages,

for a child to laugh, smile, even cry,

for a child who will brush away 
the dust of ancient pages and wipe

away their lonely, silent tears.

This is shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.   It is a poem I wrote in 2007, before I blogged.  I DO have a lot old books from my childhood.  Thankfully, some of them have been now read to my grandchildren.  I just can't get rid of them.  I took a photo of a few of them, which are pictured above. Do you still have some of your old childhood books?

I am What I Am

110th Anniversary of Harley Davidson ---
Big Party in Harley's hometown!

I Am What I Am

I am what I am

American by birth, rebel by choice

a person who tries to make the most of now

and prepare for the day when there is no tomorrow.

Wherever I am is the happiest place on earth;

I believe in the importance of make believe

as well as connecting with people

but know between love and madness lies obsession,

so caution is always key.

Share moments. Share life.

Think big.  Think small.  But think hard!

Impossible is nothing.  Just do it! I will. Will you?

I am what I am, and I'm loving it.

This poem was written for dVerse Poetics...where we were challenged to write using advertising slogans.  The slogans I used are in blue, and the companies they are affiliated with are listed below.

I am what I am   - Reebok
American by birth, rebel by choice - Harley Davidson
Make the most of now - Vodafone
When there is no tomorrow - Fed Ex
Happiest place on earth - Disneyland
Make Believe - Sony
Share moments. Share life - Kodak
Impossible is nothing. - Adidas
Just do it! - Nike
Between love and madness lies obsession - Calvin Klein
Connecting people - Nokia
Think big -  Imax
Think small - Volkswagen
I'm loving it -  McDonalds

On the Road

On the Road

When she left  home this morning
she had no idea she was leaving
for the  last time, but as soon as
she crossed the bridge,
she was on her way to the somewhere
she had only dreamed about.
She smiled for the first time in forever,
floored the gas pedal,
her hair blowing in the wind.


I am submitting this to the G-Man's 55!!     Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Dark Steps

Wikimedia Commons

Dark Steps

She was oblivious to the steps that followed her as she made her way home.  She was watchful, looked around every so often, having a sense that all was not was okay; but the one who followed was fast, wore black, was able to duck behind a tree or into a shadow,  to remain out of view with his hate.  The closer she got to home the faster she walked, her feet click clicking on the sidewalk, almost running now.  The feet behind became braver.  They too walked the sidewalk now, click clicking, accompanied by the tap tap of a cane.  She turned around, saw the man with the cane, his feet step stepping,  his intent obvious now, his cane flailing, tapping, flailing.  She bolted, fast as she could.  Steps faster and faster.  She tried to scream.  No sound came.  The man ran now, a limpy run with his cane tap tapping.  She ran faster faster.  Click, clack, click, clack. So dark.  Almost home.  Found key in her pocket.  Could she get it in the lock? Home now.  Key in lock, turn the key, open the door. Safety.....  And then.....she felt the sting of his cane......

In blackness of night

danger will appear quickly

a bat squeals in flight.

This haibun was written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is STEPS

Beyond Infatuation

Basil who is loved beyond infatuation

Beyond Infatuation

Infatuation is admiring
someone else's dog

love is snuggling
your own dog

infatuation is looking
only at the exterior

love is bonding
with interior depths

infatuation is a good impression
no spinach between the teeth

love is pizza at midnight
hot pepper on one's breath

infatuation is fluid as a waterfall
love is solid as the rocky riverbed

infatuation is built on imagination
love surpasses imagination

infatuation is today
love is forever


I wrote this poem before I ever knew what 'blogging' was.  As my muse was hiding somewhere today, I decided to share it for dVerse Open Link.

Leave the Light On

Leave the Light On

Leave the light on, I'll be there...
I may be late, but I'm on my way
I'll be there soon, my word is gold
Leave the light on for me.

Leave the light on, I'll be there...
I'm on my way, am getting close
My journey is nearing completion
Leave the light on for me.

Leave the light on, I'll be there...
I'm being guided by an overhead star
I see my haven in the distance now
and see the light left on for me.

This was written for Poets United Poetry Pantry,
Sunday, August 24.

Boy and Flute

Henry and Adele - by Judith Clay

Boy and Flute

He plays his flute beneath the moon
In dark of night he finds his peace
As only roosters swoon and croon
He plays his flute beneath the moon
Dispels his sadness with a tune
His tuneful strains provide release
He plays his flute beneath the moon.
In dark of night he finds his peace.


He bids his heart rise to a star
In music he finds love and joy
To sadness he says au revoir
He bids his heart rise to a star
His life is near but dreams are far
The night is kind to flute and boy
He bids his heart rise to a star
In music he finds love and joy.


This poem in triolet form was written for dVerse Poetics, where Claudia has us write to one of the paintings of artist Judith Clay.  

Man and His Dog (In 55 Words)

Wikimedia Commons

Man and His Dog (in 55 Words)

Old man, old dog
nothing new any day
same walk every day

down the street
through the park
where the man sat on a bench

watched the ducks
while the dog waited
for the man to slowly rise

to begin the walk home
until the day that neither
was able to make the walk.

A story in EXACTLY 55 words for dVerse Meeting the Bar.  Also submitted to G-Man.

I Cried Out

I Cried Out

I think we have all cried out,
but do we want to recount just why?
Is their purpose in reliving pain through retelling?

And does anyone really want to know
why someone else has cried out?
Really now?  Do they?  Truth.

And if the answer is yes,
what would they do with the knowledge?
What would they do with another's pain?

Call me cynical or  call me realistic,
Yes, I have cried out, still do?
But truthfully, how does that affect you?


This was written for Verse First, where the prompt was "I cried out....."

Vision

Wikimedia Commons

Vision

There will come a time you'll have only one vision

 a time when multiple visions will have disappeared

 and you will have no choice but to head in one direction

 the one you aren't ready to travel, 

 but you can't turn the vision off, 

and you can't avert your eyes

and your legs cannot be stopped

 and your scream cannot be heard

 as you are drawn toward the Tunnel of Light.

This was written for the Poetry Jam prompt:  Poetic Visions!

The Moon

The Moon

I can see the moon but cannot hear it
I know it must have thoughts to share
as every night it peers at me wide eyed
follows me in silence, holds my gaze
as if it has secrets not yet revealed.

I can see the moon but cannot hear it
I can only wonder what all it knows
but the moon is not one to divulge
whatever it knows it holds inside
the moon is master of evening sky.

I can see the moon but cannot hear it
sometime I avoid its stare and walk away
it persists to find me through my bedroom window
does not leave me alone when I try to sleep
I close my eyes but still can see it in the sky.

Sharing with dVerse Open Link.

Dear Child

Dear Child of Mine

Dear Child of Mine Forever Unborn,

I miss not knowing who you are,

you who could have been born from my womb,

you who I would have loved from birth.

Boy or girl, it would not have mattered.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, bright smile,

my temperament, build, fair skin,

I always pictured you quite like me.

Whoever you were would have been perfection.

I would have encouraged and nurtured you;

you would have been so special to me, 

I hope I would have been special to you too.

Though I never knew you except in dreams,

I love you.

Always,

Yours

Dear Mom Who Could have Been

Dear Mom Who Could Have Been,

I have waited for you to think of me,

the child who has always lived inside you,

long waiting and hoping to be freed.

Though we have never really met

I have known you and you me,

as I have been deep within you

and we have shared many dreams.

You might want to know if I am boy or girl,

but really does it matter? Just picture me

with that blonde hair,  blue eyes,

and a very big smile just like yours.

I am sure I would have loved you,

as you would have loved me;

we would have had something special

if I had my chance to be born.

But as I have never left your womb,

I hope you will always keep the child

I would have been as part of you

and always see through my child-like eyes.

And Mom, who never will be,

I will always love you too!

Always,

Yours

This is shared with dVerse Poetics - Sent With A Stamp, where my prompt is to write a poem in the form of a letter!  The bar opened at 3 p.m. Eastern Saturday and will be open until midday on Sunday. Do come and see what others write.     I am also sharing this with Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry.

It's Human

It's Human

Love
loss
happen
to us all
two sides of a coin
so inescapably human.

And inevitably human
we each find our way
to rebound
somehow
from
loss.

This is a fibonacci poem (based on syllables: 1,1,2,3,5,8 and reverse) written for dVerse Form for All.

Silence

Silence

Some days you are my closest friend
Companion when I wake or sleep
You do not hear but I pretend
Some days you are my closest friend
When into sadness I descend
I do not cry I do not weep
Some days you are my closest friend
Companion when I wake or sleep.


You are no comfort to my soul
And oft I bid you go away
You do not go, you know your role
You are no comfort to my soul
And draw me toward a deepening hole
Where life exists in shades of gray
You are no comfort to my soul
And oft I bid you go away.


This is written for my own prompt at Poetry Jam:  Write a poem inspired by the Simon and Garfunkel song "Sound of Silence."    I have chosen to write in triolet form, my second triolet of the day

Sleepless

Sleepless

The dogs sleep well, I twist and sigh

I cannot sleep three hours 'til dawn

The cares of life are floating by

The dogs sleep well, I twist and sigh

Night after night I wonder why

I do not drift, I only yawn

The dogs sleep well, I twist and sigh

I cannot sleep, three hours 'til dawn.

The dogs sleep still, their presence warm

My covers thrown first off then on

Why oh why is this the norm

The dogs sleep still, their presence warm

And even during a thunderstorm

My mind will race, my patience gone

The dogs sleep still, their presence warm

My covers thrown first off then on.

I wrote this poem in triolet form, using iambic tetrameter.
I share it with dVerse Open Link.

Give Me a Horse

Give Me a Horse

Oh give me a horse and a prairie
a lifestyle where I can be free
to sleep beneath stars that all sparkle
an expanse where I can find me.

Oh give me a horse with a saddle
fine smooth leather chaps to wear
a wide cowboy hat to adorn my head
and spurs on my boots for flair.

Oh give me a horse that will gallop
across blowing sagebrush of range
as I sing out loud Whoopi ti yi yee
feeling past priorities change.

Oh give me a horse and a prairie
a Wyoming cattle ranch barbecue
a campfire beneath the full moon
my childhood dream to come true.

This poem was written for dVerse Poetics.....where we are writing 'cowboy poetry' today.  When I was a child, I really wished to have a horse and loved the whole cowboy scene.  The picture comes from Wikimedia Commons

Some Days

Some Days

Some days it seems I cannot be
but drifting on the lonely sea
until the waves return to me
without a lock, without a key.

Some days I think I found my way,
but then I find to my dismay
that I still live in yesterday
and what is seen is only gray.

Some days I just decide to wait
to find a way to accept fate
and hope to find an empty slate
once more before it is too late.

Some days I try my life to bless,
but life is like a game of chess;
and though it seems I oft transgress
I pray my dreams to repossess.

This was written for Gay Cannon's Form For All:  Line and Meter over at dVerse.  I tried for iambic tetrameter.   Gay, did I succeed??

Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Accident

Accident


I saw the aftermath of an accident today
fire department trying to cut someone from a car
on  a minor highway I travel all the time
blocks from my house.

Glad that it wasn't me
but it could have been me
being cut from the vehicle
life changed forever.

I must admit I was a voyeur
driving by the scene again
trying to see more of what happened
trying to figure out why.

It scared me really as I realized
how quickly life can change
and I wondered if it were me
who would care for my dogs.

The photo above is not from the accident I described.  What I saw was much worse. It is frightening if one considers how quickly one's life can change and how unprepared we really are. At least how unprepared I am.

Dark

Dark 

And then the lights went out

just like that the lights went out

unexpected all was black

inside and out

that's how death happens

without a sound

simple like that

nothing more
nothing less

pervasive dark
dead.

This was written for Laurie's prompt at Poetry Jam:  When the Lights Went Out.

Also shared with Poets United where the Verse First prompt was to write a short poem without gratuitous text.

Treasures

Treasures

I cleaned out treasures today
things I had kept for years
knowing I won't live forever.

If I don't dispose of things
they'll be left for the next generation
who might be dispassionate.

So I am trying to be ruthless
but treasures hold memories
and throwing out hurts badly.

So I question how long
should a person keep
what no one else will want?



What do YOU think?

I will share this for dVerse Open Link.This is based on fact.  
I am 'cleaning out'  I decided to prepare a box for grandson 
and granddaughter with treasures I will save for them.  You can
see them above.My poetry books will be there.  Some photos.  
Some genealogy. Etc.  I am trying to decide what to do with old 
cards & letters. Interesting to me that most 'treasures' are not 
things that cost dollars.  I didn't include my dogs, but I hope
they will be treasured as I treasure them.

What Price Lying?

Ryan Braun

What Price Lying

Sad when a hero turns out to be a liar; 

so many believed Ryan Braun, 

believed he didn't use performance drugs 

when he looked his friend Aaron Rodgers in the eye and lied. 

 But he did use performance drugs, 

was caught, and now has to pay the price,

but can Braun ever redeem himself for lying? 

Can anyone redeem themselves for lying? 

 I think people might forgive Braun 

if it were not for the lying 

which will live with him 

long after the drug charge dies. 

 Once a liar, who can trust him again? 

And he had so much potential 

without drugs and without lies. 

He sacrificed his career for what? 

 I am submitting this to Poetry Pantry. It needs a lot of work, but I will submit it anyway. Ryan Braun is a Milwaukee Brewer who was also a MVP and really the most loved player on the team. He was also a friend of Aaron Rodgers of the Green Bay Packers. In fact, the two have two restaurants in the area. Braun lied to Rodgers, but Rodgers believed him and said he would bet one year's salary that Braun did not use performance drugs. Rodgers has since said he is very disappointed that Braun lied to him. Braun has not 'surfaced' in a while. He can return to the Brewers next year. I wonder what his life will be like. I also wonder if Aaron Rodgers (my athlete hero) and he will continue to be restaurant partners.

Unplugged

Unplugged

Unplugged

He made it known he didn't want to prolong his life,
which was his right.

He was going to die anyway  and he knew
it would be a slow and painful death.

He didn't want any extraordinary measures
so he implored them

to please, sooner rather than later,
let him go, pull the plug.


This was written for Fred's prompt at dVerse Poetics.......Unplugged.
What would you decide?  To continue to be plugged
or to be unplugged?  What if it were a loved one?