Category Archives: poems

Read the Signs

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Read the Signs

Are you possibly aware
from your vantage over there,
so well-shod and so well-clad,
that you are overdressed a tad?
In fact, it would be hard for you
no matter what garment or shoe
you might have chosen to wear instead.
I fear that you have been misled.
You’d still be overdressed, you see—
you’re in a nudist colony!

The prompt today was “aware.”

Relax Redux: Empty Nest

Tonight, one of my favorite blogs, written by Carol and titled “Relax,” published a poem that begins with the lines:

Tonight, I am missing
all half-grown kissing
–oh! I meant kittens—
an orange one, Mittens,

(HERE is a link to her entire poem.)

I, however, loved the original typo (or contrived typo) and challenged her to make a poem starting from it and remaining with that idea.  I promised to do so myself, and have, hoping she won’t mind my stealing my version of her first line.  Here is mine:

Empty Nest

I’ve been missing
that half-grown kissing
that lasts a minute
with chocolate in it.
Runny noses.
Heads of roses
picked off stems
like rarest gems
presented in
a tuna tin.
Priceless treasure
for my pleasure.

My life lacks
these loving smacks––
even a quickie,
albeit sticky
with peanut butter.
A parting stutter,
and then they’re gone
and off upon
adventures new,
away from you,
taking their kisses
to other misses.

I’m awaiting hers.  Are you up to meeting the challenge, Carol?

Nativity

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Nativity

It was some day, that day when light came into my world.
Reaching out my arms and legs as they came uncurled,
so many lovely colors bursting into sight.
All this brilliant pigment where formerly was night.

All the parts familiar still attached to me—
my ankle and my navel, my elbow and my knee.
But no longer together, curled into one tight ball.
I never knew that I could be so wide and tall.

Stretching out to fill this square I wonder when
I will be forgetting the curved world I’ve been in.
My mother now beside me instead of all around.
At other times she’s simply nowhere to be found.

My father’s arms around me—arms brand new to me.
All the other others coming to see what I may be.
Scratchy things now touch me—dry things and things with fluff.
Everything a new thing until I’ve had enough.

Then I find my power and make some kind of noise.
Soon I’m joined by other infant girls and boys,
and the whole room fills with sounds of our distress.
Very satisfying, I fear I must confess.

The nurses all come running, the fathers and the sisters.
The orderlies and doctors, the misses and the misters.
And when they lift us up, each one in different arms,
all our cries desist as they cater to our charms.

“Some day,” they’ve been saying, and now we are all here—
a fresh new crop of humans arrived for them to rear.
Once more we exercise our lungs and make each father cower.
Fresh to this new world, we have already found our power.

The prompt today was someday.

Call to Arms

Things That Cling


Call to Arms

Sweaters do it, slips do it.
Even crackers and clam dips do it.
Let’s do it. I want to cling!!!

Saran wrap was made for it.
Lonely hearts first lust then fade for it.
Just put your arms in a ring.

Hold me and squeeze with them.
I’m the thing that you should seize with them.
Want all the hugs you can bring.

Monkeys in trees do it,
pointer fingers when you sneeze do it.
Let’s do it. Let’s do that thing.

Don’t hesitate o’er it.
Gotta tell you that I adore it.
Let’s do it.  Let’s have a fling!!!

The prompt word today is “cling.”

Poor Timing

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Senora! I’ve found more lights!  It looks promising.  I knew I had many more strands, but these look unfamiliar.

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So I pulled them out of the bag and untangled them, and when I plugged them in?  Out of seven strands, only one worked!  I mined the errant strands for a few replacement bulbs and tossed them into the trash. Planned obsolescence?

Poor Timing

Whoever wrote this prompt today cannot have all the facts
If he thinks merely by wanting to, I can just relax!

Relaxing’s fine for those who have all their “to do’s” done,
but until the last one’s checked off, it’s not yet time for fun.
It’s true that life is not all work. There’s wisdom in each word.
But to rest prematurely is clearly just absurd.

I’ll paint the window frame and then put up Christmas lights.
Then unpack nacimientos–those Mexican delights.
I’ll hide the suitcase of old clothes I’ve been meaning to sell,
then close the guest room closet–best described as hoarding Hell!

Clothes of every era. Clothes of every size.
If you are into “retro,” you’d find it quite the prize.
Then hang up all the pictures and replace all the art
that’s been consigned to the upstairs since my remodel’s start.

We’ve wiped and swept and blown and washed ’til all the dust is gone,
but now must put away the stuff all the dust was on!
Two days from now, houseguests arrive. ‘Til then my life is taxing,
It’s when they finally get here that I’ll have time for relaxing!

 

 

 

The prompt today is “relax.”

Version 3

Wish List of a Youngest Daughter


Wish List of a Youngest Daughter

Off and on, I’ve been wishing
my dad and I could go fishing.
I guess my sister could go along
so long as she does nothing wrong
like catch a fish bigger than mine
or tease or hum or brag or whine.

Perhaps she’ll sit back in the bed
and not up in the cab instead,
so Dad and I can be alone—
the truck a sort of “private zone.”
He’ll hit the bumps real hard so she
will wish she was in front with me.

Just like I always pray and pray
her friends and she will let me stay
with them, when they come for the night
and play without me, door shut tight.
Marvelous fun had down the hall,
but not with me.  I am too small.

That’s why, when Dad tells me a joke,
I’ll laugh real loud until I choke;
and my sister, sitting there behind
might feel left out, but I don’t mind.
And when we get to where we’re going,
to the stock dam, cattle lowing,

Dad will bait my hook for me
and sister, too, and then we’ll see
who will catch the biggest fish.
I guess it’s obvious that my wish
is that I’ll catch the biggest one,
and sister will go home with none!

The prompt today is “Fishing.”

Wan Yvonne

Version 2Wan Yvonne

Although in summer she is tannish,
in winter color seems to vanish.
So from November up to March,
her skin is colored white as starch.
In fact, I think it would be valid
to say that she is rather pallid.
But all-in-all, she still looks fine
even without  bikini line!

 

The prompt word today is “vanish.”