A place for poems and pics
you call me foolish
a little uncoolish
my head’s in the clouds
ignoring the crowds
my toes are a tapping
my own beat I’m clapping
I speak with a pen
don’t seek false amen
don’t need your instruction
in this little production
I’m calling my life
~~~~
just foolin’ around with poetry for
Poetics Asides April PAD and with other toads in the garden at Real Toads
I tried to color coordinate
this poem with the weather
I wrote pale pink sunrise words
I wrote white cloudy words
that blew across the page
and sunny yellow words
that sparkled like gems
when the sun hid I wrote
gray rainy words that fell
in puddles at my feet
I wrote red sky at night
words until black
covered the page
I tried to color coordinate
this poem with the weather
but it’s Spring
and nature couldn’t decide
which color to wear today
I love the illusion of you
that lingers on your
favorite chair and in
the rumpled sheets
I love the scent of you
that hangs in the air
after you pass by
I love the sound of you
that echoes through
these empty rooms
when you are gone
I love the feel of you
at the end of a day
when there is just us
the line at the main entrance
was way too long
so she picked up her back pack
and tucked in her wings
to look for another way in
she tapped at a window
but got no response
the line in the back
wasn’t as long but she
didn’t have a backstage pass
she turned the corner
and there she saw a
small door covered
by vines and guarded
by doves
in her pocket she felt
crumbs from her
last blueberry scone
placing them like an offering
on the ground
the doves granted her entrance
and she slipped sideways
into heaven
—–
posted at Poetic Asides Wednesday Poetry Prompt – “(blank) ways to (blank)”
gentle moon
hums a simple tune
with eyes closed
hides behind cloudy
blankets
thinks I won’t see him
I’ll free him from
listening to my
dreams or my
midnight screams
but I know I can
depend on him
my childhood
friend
——
Poetic Asides Wednesday Prompt is “hidden”
also posted at Real Toads
you’ve gone and
left me
here
with no guidance
the other half
of our collective
memory
the weaker half
I step into the
swirling shadows
of aging
with no one to
follow
no footsteps
in which to place
my stumbling feet
no way to anticipate
where this path
will lead me
so I will tread
slowly
bravely
humbly
as you would have
this poem is a little
stained
strained and
stretched
across the page
it’s been reworked
reformed
reimagined
rolled up
ironed out
let out – taken in
unravelled
stitched to
gether
crinkled in my pocket
erased and re-
scribbled
in crayon
this poem is
just
worn-
out
—-
the Wednesday prompt at Poetic Asides today is – stained
where have they gone
are they all lost
can’t be found
run aground
giving me the run-
around until I stumble,
fumble for words
to call them back
attack the memory
of those who seemed
invincible, invisible,
indivisible by we who
search in vain, again
look in the places
humble ones have
occupied since time
began – the ones who didn’t
claim the fame they had
attained, instead persisted
in the fight for truth and light
and what is right
I’m seeking heroes
here and there and
find them hiding everywhere
——
posted at Poetic Asides – the prompt was to use Seeking ______ as the title of your poem
shopping, baking, present wrapping
not much time for meals or napping
little sticky fingerprints
cane shaped candy peppermints
garland, tinsel on the tree
stockings hanging jauntily
Christmas program super star
snowflakes landing on the car
frozen turkey now defrosted
is old Santa this exhausted
In spite of your exalted status
with special pillows and
window seat you are not invited
to sit at the dinner table
We will not save you a chair
or set a place for you and
you will not be considered
a centerpiece
rhymeswithbug 