So Much Depends

So Much Depends

So much depends on belief
on faith
on God

So much depends on love
of God
for Man

So much depends on you
your belief
the empty tomb

So much depends on just
what you wish
to embrace.

This is submitted to Susan's Prompt at Midweek Motif.  The prompt is "What Makes a Day Holy?"

The Signs of Spring

The Signs of Spring

The signs of spring are all around
both in the air and on the ground
Young bunnies hop on forest floor
each day more robins than before
and chirps of joyful birds abound

when sparrows flit and cardinals sound
as buds burst forth and bloom profound
while hawks and eagles sleekly soar
the signs of spring

hear voice of playing child resound
a young child throws from pitcher's mound
and honeybees one can't ignore
so much new life outside the door
the signs of spring.

This poem in Rondeau form is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is "Bees, Birds, and Bunnies."

Masks

Masks

You wear a mask
and I wonder

what would happen if
you shed your mask

what would happen if
I shed my mask

would anything be different
really?

what?
are you sure?


This poem is for Anthony's prompt at dVerse Poetics.  He is sharing some of the works of Phyllis Golembo.  What are your feelings about masks?

Batter Up

Batter Up

Sometimes life throws you a curve ball 

you have a choice whether you swing or not

admittedly it is my choice to strike those balls 

hard

the ones that bring the unexpecteds

as it is the unexpecteds in life

 which bring the best that life has to offer.

One would be a fool to let them pass by.

Batter up!

This short poem is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry (which is an open link).  I really DO believe in  following the unexpected.  Second it is linked with Poetry Jam, for Bran's baseball prompt.  Also linked to Poets United Midweek Motif (the unexpected)

Shoes for All Ages

My Bear Slippers!!

Shoes for All Ages

Sometimes it is the shoes that you walk in
that make all the difference in the world.

As a baby you take baby steps
in your little white leather shoes
do you remember those?

As a child you get gym shoes
and then feel all grown up
do you remember those?

As a young teen you get dress shoes
and wear them to church or prom
do you remember those?

As an older teen you choose your shoes
to express who you are
do you remember those?

As a parent you buy few shoes
so you can pay for your children's
do you remember those?

As an elder you buy sturdy shoes
which support your feet well
do you remember those?

As an ancient you wear slippers
to move between bed and bath
do you remember those?

Sometimes it is the shoes that you walk in
that make all the difference in the world.

I have written this for Gay's prompt at dVerse Meeting the Bar.  We had to invent our own poetry form & then explain it.  See explanation below:

My poem is a "circular time poem."   The most important thing is to begin and end with the same two-line stanza!  The second most important thing is to write about something in time progression.   I chose the subject of 'shoes.'   A person could also choose a subject such as 'hair' or 'interests' or 'interests' or.....as long as there was a time progression & as long as the poem ended with the same two lines it began with.

And, ha, the photo above is one of my 'bear slippers' which I will perhaps wear when I am the 'ancient.'  Smiles.

Summer Baseball

Summer Baseball 

Beneath the setting summer sun

the neighbor ball team came to play

each batter tried to slug a run

beneath the setting summer sun

as late as we could outside stay

a position was found for everyone

beneath the summer setting sun

the neighbor ball team came to play.

Beneath the setting summer sun

we lived and breathed our baseball dream

and hitting homers  was most fun

beneath the setting summer sun

it didn’t matter on whose team

as long as one could score a run

beneath the setting summer sun

we lived and breathed our baseball dream.

This poem, a triolet,  is written for Brian's prompt at Poetry Jam.  His prompt brought back memories for me, as when I was a child we would often have an evening baseball game involving all kids in the neighborhood.  Sometimes we would play in the street (it wasn't busy), and sometimes we would play in the field in back of our house.  Boys and girls together.  Kids of all ages.  It actually was softball rather than baseball, but never mind.  Smiles.

Treasures Kept

Japanese Music Box (mentioned below)

Treasures Kept

Things I keep are important

small pleasures I delight in most of all

simple treasures are most dear.

Poochie my first stuffed animal

little brown dog I slept with as a child

boxed up ignored for many decades

now has a prominent place on my bed.

Black enamel music box my GI cousin 

sent me when he furloughed in Japan

still plays special familiar geisha tune

though not so often any more.

Children's rocking chair of my mother

Used by her and who knows who before

out of sight in basement for many years

rockers broken in need of repair.

A Hummel figure I yearned for

splurged my first trip to Germany

never guessing at that time

I’d return to Germany again and again.

Marbles I played with when young

still in their original marble bag

no one plays them any more

but they’re as striking as ever.

Things I keep are important

small pleasures I delight in most of all

simple treasures are most dear.

Hummel figure mentioned above

This poem is written for dVerse Poetics  (at 3 p.m. Eastern today) in response to my own prompt:  Write about a treasure or treasures from your past, something (or things) that have meaning to you.  Poochie & my mother's childhood rocking chair are both pictured at my dVerse prompt.

Red Roses

Red Roses

She met him in Starbucks
had a fat free latte and
he had a cappuccino,
two strangers sharing a table
busy time and busy place.

He asked if she was with someone
and she said she wasn't and
she asked if he was with someone
and he said he wasn't.

She was hopeful as he seemed nice
a date maybe, a dinner, a movie,
more maybe being lonely
and she could dream.

He told her he was a journalist
had just lost his job
was angry at the unjust firing
after so many years
and he told her his life story.

And she told him her story
over coffee that day
shared things shared with no one
because he made her feel warm inside.

And when it was time to leave
he took her phone number
and asked her address
and she was hopeful for once
that someone would call.

The next day the door bell rang
she answered the door
and the florist brought a dozen red roses
with a note that said
"Thank you for listening;
it was important to me
watch the news tonight,
you were the last one I talked to."

She watched the news
saw his face on the screen
he had gone into the newspaper company
with his gun killed four people
then turned the gun on himself.

And she wondered what she could have done
and as she looked at the roses she cried
knowing it didn't matter any more....
and never would.  It never would.

This is shared with Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry.

The Wait

The Wait

Sitting in her house

she waited

for the mail to arrive

     did someone send a card?

for the phone to ring

      does someone wonder how she is?

     

for the doorbell to ring

      will someone want to share tea?

Sitting in her house

she waited

     and waited

     watched the clock

     tick away the hours.

Day after day

she just waited.

This is written for dVerse Meeting the Bar where Claudia asks us to write a poem that conveys emotion without naming it.

Time

Time

There are things only Time knows
and secrets he will never reveal
as he would rather remain silent
than relay what he sees beyond.

But sometime he'll smile a wry smile
and has been known to wipe a tear
but he routinely keeps his own counsel
and quietly marches forward each day.

Often Time will pass lethargically
and yawn away the drowsy hours
the sluggish clock ticks slowly
as days crawl at turtle pace.

Then one opportune moment he enlivens
and dances with exuberance again
accelerates like a car on a race track
where you miss something if you blink.

Time can be a laudable adversary
time can be an esteemed friend
the choice of perspective is ours
but Time sets the rules for the game.

There are things only Time knows
and secrets he will never reveal
as he would rather remain silent
than relay what he sees beyond.

This poem is written for the prompt "Time" at Poetry Jam!  Please join us.

Fox

Fox

Fox speaks twisted words
to those who seek truth
and all is not as it seems
the grin can often deceive.

Despite the fox's sleek coat
and sugar-coated words
its 'truth' often smoke and mirrors
fair and balanced is not.

This is written for dVerse Poetics.   We were asked to write poems about animals as portents of good or bad or something like that.  Sometimes there is a continuum.........