Advent

Advent

Every year we relive once again

the story learned  long ago

each year the meaning deepens

of the story we never outgrow

The advent wreath burns brightly

as we wait once more for a birth

first the candle of hope

as we contemplate peace on earth

then the candle of preparation

as we ready ourselves for the child

followed by the candle of joy

of God and man reconciled

and next the candle of love

to the world God sent his Son

the last candle is the Christ Candle

celebration of new life has begun

each year the meaning deepens

of the story we never outgrow

every year we relive again

the story learned long ago.

This poem is written for the November dVerse Open Link.
Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Thankful

Thankful

I am thankful for the life I have
without it who would I be?

I am thankful for mind and heart
without them what would I know?

I am thankful for the love I have
without it where is the light?

I am thankful for family and friends
without them who is there?

I am thankful for the earth and sky
without them where would I live?

I am thankful for dreams and plans
without them what is worth while?

I am thankful for words and songs
without them what would I enjoy?

I am thankful for God and His plan
without them what would matter?

This is written for the prompt GRATITUDE at Poets United Midweek Motif and dVerse MTB where we are writing poems about THANKFULNESS.

To Be a Good Dog

Sweet Tulip, one of my dogs

To Be a Good Dog

If you want to be a good dog
let your owner think she is boss
even though you know the truth

sprawl on her lap lovingly
to decorate her dark clothes
with beautiful white hair

woof vehemently when phone rings
to let her know if she wants to talk
she must step into another room

claim the human bed as yours
even though you have four
comfortable beds on the floor

sit on her lap when she eats
to helpfully catch any tidbit
that might accidentally fall

bark from your sofa perch
to deter distant potential intruders
wandering deer a block away

eat sleep guard walk play
in equal measure every day
and you will be a good dog.

This poem is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt this week is to write a "how to" poem!

A Turkey Tale

A Turkey Tale

This time of year I think
it would be nice to read
about the Thanksgiving turkey
who escaped certain death
and became an aristocrat
who  began his own kingdom
where turkeys were the nobles
and men had to hide or run
to escape the sharp blade
wielded by the executioner
turning the tables so to speak

or should I say so to cluck!


Just a little playful nonsense for Anthony's prompt at dVerse Poetics!
And happy Thanksgiving to all who are celebrating this week;
and may each of you escape the blade.  Smiles.

Culture?

Culture?

Celebrities gambol confidently
    dance boldly
    bow wildly
    smile hopefully.

Judges watch intently
   beam knowingly
   frown intently
   clap noncommittally.

Audience roots shamelessly
   screams relentlessly
   applauds tirelessly
   always hopefully.
 
Week after week
   year after year
   America never tires
   Dancing With the Stars.


This was written for Bjorn's prompt at Meeting the Bar.  The subject is defamiliarization as defined by Viktor Shklovsy.  One technique of making the familiar 'new' is to take something ordinary and not mention what it is until the very end.

Incidentally, this is a program I do not watch (as TV competitions basically bore me), though I have in the past.....notably when Donald Driver (now retired Green Bay Packer) danced & - by the way - won. Smiles!

Who I Am

Who I Am

My wings are aligned
as I fly toward the sky
I cherish life as it is
do not look far ahead
nor too far back
I learn each day
there is more to learn
I smile because...why not?

I sleep well, eat well,
find moments to pray
and laugh and love
life and truth balanced
with fate and I hope
for what I wish
but take what I get
I smile because...why not?

And at the end of the day
I say thank you
for blessings of life
and those who care
beyond the moment
satisfied that all
is as it should be
I smile because...why not?

This is written for Brian's prompt at Poetry Jam this week.  The prompt is "Who are you?"

Zipper

Zipper

Angry zipper

with mind of its own

does not co-operate

in cold winter weather

will not join forces 

will not associate

with its identical twin

stubbornly it sneers

jeers, prevents

sabotages, resists

will not be coupled

separate though equal

aloof.

This poem is written for dVerse Poetics, where the prompt was  to work with a noun (mine is 'zipper') and an adjective describing an emotion (mine is 'angry') and come up with a poem which does not include any abstract nouns.

Painting Winter

Chicago - Lake Michigan view

Painting Winter

I paint with blues and silvers
as the wind continues to blow
icicles hang heavy beneath winter sun
greens and yellows play hide and seek
overcome by grays and browns
busy squirrels scurry everywhere
hands and face frostbitten gray.

In this day with cloud-filled sky
my brush strokes are as wispy
as the abundant winter clouds
and icicles fade out of sight
before the black of night
as I paint a bright red bow
to provide a needed glow.

It is not easy to paint winter
with frozen fingers and toes.

I am sharing this with Poets United Poetry Pantry.  I got the idea by reading Victoria Slotto's prompt for dVerse MTB....where her prompt was to write a poem that uses something related to an art technique as a metaphor to deliver a message.  I wasn't able to write my poem in time, but will share it with PU.

If I Could Dream

Dreamer - Orest Klipensky (public domain)

If I Could Dream

If I could dream tomorrow
I would dream of being with you
for an eternity and a day
I would spend it with you.

If I could dream tomorrow
I would live each day as today
for an eternity and a day
I would live each day as today.

If I could dream tomorrow
I would adventure with you
for an eternity and a day
I would do things with you.

If I could dream tomorrow
I would live each day as today
for an eternity and a day
I would live each day as today.

If I could dream tomorrow
I would grow old with you
for an eternity and a day
I would sit by the fire with you.

If I could dream tomorrow
I would live each day as today
for an eternity and a day
I would live each day as today.

In my dreams will always be you.

This is written for Poetry Jam - where the prompt is dream.
This is also shared with November 23 Poetry Pantry!

Best Forgotten

Best Forgotten

There are things that are best forgotten
       goals unmet
       dreams turned sour
       friendships lost
       deeds undone.
     
There are things that are best forgotten
        angry words
        information withheld
        lies told
        untruths spread.
     
There are things that are best forgotten
        hours wasted
        praise withheld
        money squandered
        prayers unsaid.
 
There are things that are best forgotten
        poems not written
        novels unpublished
        songs not sung
        music unplayed.

There are things that are best forgotten
         but I hope you will
         always remember me.

This is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.
     
     

Deadman Contemplates Fairness

Deadman Contemplates Fairness

When Deadman looked back at his life
he realized how much was unfair.

He was born into a family with means
had been given an Ivy League education.

At university he was introduced to and married
a beautiful and rich Ivy League wife.

His parents moved in an elite social circle
thus after university he procured a fine job.

The silver spoon in his mouth was a blessing
and his opportunities were always abundant.

When Deadman was diagnosed with brain cancer
he was given only months to live before he'd die.

His means and his connections meant nothing
and he came to terms with death in little time.

When Deadman looked back at his life
he realized how much was unfair.


I have often thought about the unfairness of life.  Why is it that some are born into families that can give someone every opportunity and advantage & some born into families who are poverty-stricken? Why is it that some people develop fatal diseases at a young age & some live a lifetime of 80 to 100 years?  This is shared with dVerse MTB where we are writing about "fair."

Campfire Memories

Campfire Memories

Hypnotized by crackling flames
we sat around campfire
shared cheap wine and stories
someone played a guitar, we sang
accompanied by Lake Michigan waves.

Life was good then and simple
at least as I reminisce now
details long forgotten
time was endless, dream-filled
future an open door.

We sat until late at night
stars many, moon bright
conversation slowed, stilled
topics exhausted, flames receded
we retired to tents at last to sleep.

This is written for Poets United Midweek Motif - where the prompt is 'bonfire.'

Dead Man Drops Pebbles

Dead Man Drops Pebbles

On the other side of the great divide,
the dead man drops pebbles
in order to remember

      the father who abused him
      the mother who neglected him
      the teacher who failed him
      the army buddy who deserted him
      the wife who cheated on him
      the son who stole from him
      the boss who fired him
      the friend who lied to him

On the other side of the great divide
this dead man then picks up pebbles
in order to forget

      the father who abused him
      the mother who neglected him
      the teacher who failed him
      the army buddy who deserted him
      the wife who cheated on him
      the son who stole from him
      the boss who fired him
      the friend who lied to him

On the other side of the great divide
the dead man lay one pebble
for the dog who had loved him

And the dead man sits before it
and the dead man cries.

This poem was written for Poetry Jam where the prompt is "pebbles" and is submitted as an additional poem for dVerse Poetics where we are writing 'dead man poetry.'

   
   

The Dead Man Wondered

The Dead Man Wondered

The dead man wondered

what he could have done

where he could have traveled

what he could have said

who he could have touched

who he might have loved

who he might have blessed

what he could have given

who he could have helped

what he could have begun

what might have been

if only he had known

he would die.

This is written for dVerse Poetics, where Grace has us writing 'dead man' poetry.

Game Plan

Game Plan

The game continued on
after she thought it was over
she thought all the cards were played
that there was no winner or loser
tired of the game she moved on.

Unexpectedly he pulled a card
the jack he had hidden to trump her
snapped it boldly onto the table
proclaimed "I win, no rematch,
from now on you're dead to me."

As she reeled from the unforseen blow
he calmly gathered up all the spoils
opened the door and told her to go.
And she left with nothing except
the queen of clubs up her sleeve.



This is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry 
& is a fictional piece. The queen of clubs is
the highest trump in the card game sheepshead.
All jacks are lower trump cards than queens in
sheepshead.  Perhaps that will help those who
are not familiar with the game.