A place for poems and pics
An Everyday Kind of Love
Love is nothing like the movies –
sometimes
it looks like laundry and dirty dishes.
Real love
happens in the school drop- off line and
hides in
the bleachers of soccer matches and band festivals,
simple
ordinary times when a parent’s love fills all the empty
places.
Of Courage and Joy
No one tells you how courageous you must be to grow old
The oldest are often the bravest
No one tells you how many times a heart can be broken or
How many times it can heal
No one tells you your body will fight against you and
Vigilance will become your watch word
No one tells you about how much love a human heart can hold
And still have room for more
No one tells you that joy comes in the form of chickadees
And children’s laughter
Yet, when they tell you that the best is yet to come
You do not believe
And the Town Came Alive
Once the old town was asleep, waiting.
The streets were empty and lonely –
no cars, no people, no life.
Then a spark ignited,
slowly turned to flame,
opened fresh eyes.
Hearts returned.
You Are
Here.
It Takes Two to Tango
She was a walled flower with two left-over feet
No rhythm flowed or surged through her limp veins
Not beat to match her lonely heart moved her hips
But when the moon was full she shed her shoes and
tangoed alone in the lambent glow of night
A Question of Abundance
The crocus and daffodils are blooming
and there is an abundance of small white
flowers in the herb garden – unwanted weeds
that I will have to pull, if it ever stops raining
On my front porch I found a small yellow
butterfly, a sign that the weather is finally
turning warmer and a reminder that my
abundant weeds are its abundant food source
Weeding can wait
A Song in the Storm
A small, clear voice sang out
amid the storm of men at war –
a movie song, a moving song.
A call to peaceful action, a voice
to calm the fears of children everywhere.
A song that children sing from homes,
and schools – from street corners and bunkers.
A voice heard by nations and people
unlike her own, yet understood by all.
A child with the wisdom that children possess,
a wisdom that is lost in the foolishness of growing up
Paint Me
Paint me into a corner, and then
Paint your beating heart upon my lonely heart
Paint long-stemmed roses on my nose and
Paint love songs on my empty ears
Paint wet kisses onto my parched lips
Cover me in paint until I am no longer blank
Narcissus at the Laundromat
I watched him, that handsome man.
He went from machine to machine,
stopping to peer through each little window.
I thought he must have forgotten
which dryer he had put his clothes into –
up and down the aisles, stopping in front of
every door and staring with a contented smile.
He was in front of the oversize load dryer, gazing
longingly at a bedspread tumbling around when I asked
if he’d found his laundry and, without turning to look at me,
he replied, “ I have no laundry.”
My attempt at Day 5 prompt at https://www.napowrimo.net/day-five-9/
Of Poem and Nonsense
This poem is tied up in (k)nots trying to
make sense of the letters swirling around
it – Syllables that won’t keep time, tripping
over metered clown feet – Phrases
of the moon lined up and made to
stan(d)za in groups of four or maybe two
What’s a poem to do when there is no
rhyme or season to its form? When it finds
itself trickling away into an inky stain on paper ?
Spinning Seasons
Like a Merry-go-Round ride this old
blue planet spins round and round –
tilting now and then just to add a
touch of seasoning, a smidge of reasoning
far enough away from the flame
of that burning star that we feel its spicy heat
rhymeswithbug 