Hey Poet!

Should you ration
your passion, a dollop a day?
No way!

Pour it on
with gusto a gallon at a time!
You rhyme!


NaPoWriMo22 Day 17 – A poem on the theme of passion, murisopsis’s prompt #9. Also, in honor of National Poetry Month, here are two old-to-me, new-to-you poems that might whet your appetite (even more) for poetry. Enjoy! Peace to your !

The Poetry Café

At the Poetry Café,
You can read a poem a day.
Try some free verse or a rhyme;
Haiku, if you’re short on time.

While you eat your sticky bun,
Sample some of Dickinson.
Silverstein pairs well, we think,
With an extra-fizzy drink.

Those who don’t read poetry
Are missing out on vitamin P!
Come and get your RDA*
At the Poetry Café.

*Recommended daily allowance


Pass the Poetry, Please!*

I’m hungry for poetry.

A salad with Italian sonnet dressing
would be nutritious.

A breaded chicken couplet
might hit the spot.

Apple pie à la ode sounds delicious.
I’d like that a lot.

*title of a 1987 book by Lee Bennett Hopkins

gas, food, longing

Again I ask the question why,
And hear her silence in reply.
I grip the wheel and give a sigh,
And let the exit pass me by.

I know the things a man can buy,
A tank of gas, a slice of pie.
I grip the wheel and give a sigh.
Another exit passes by.

I’m driving till the tank runs dry.
I may be hungry; I won’t die.
I grip the wheel and give a sigh.
I’m gonna miss her cherry pie.

Poem title from chapter 6 of poemcrazy by Susan G. Wooldridge.


A poem to be read slowly, with a country drawl. Peace to your !

“Birthday Stuff”

With today being the birthday of the USA, I thought I would post this birthday poem I wrote many years ago. If you’re celebrating the Fourth of July, have a happy one! And as always, peace to your ♥ !

Birthday Stuff

Tomorrow is my birthday
A very special date
I’ve got my plans all ready
And I can hardly wait.
To start I’ll have hot chocolate
And doughnuts on a plate
Eating only things I love
That’s how I’ll celebrate.
Mac-and-cheese for lunchtime
On that’s there’s no debate
Then either grapes or raisins
No peas at any rate.
And for a snack some brownies
Two, or four, or eight
Fresh and warm from baking
Who cares if I gain weight?
For dinner down a burger
With curly fries (not straight)
A milkshake, thick and creamy
That will be first-rate.
I’ll finish up with chocolate cake
And I won’t hesitate
To lick each luscious crumb up
Oh boy, will that taste great.
Tomorrow is my birthday
The next day I’ll sleep late
And say, as I did last year
“I think I overate!”

© Stephanie Malley

“Cookout”

You see them on their lounge chairs, lined up in a row like fish sticks. Or perhaps hot dogs, complete with “grill marks” from the chair when they get up for a swim. But maybe it only similes that way to me. :)

Cookout

Bronze bodies poolside, Julying in the sun:
Coat both sides with sunscreen; fry until done.

© Stephanie Malley

(Caveat: Frying until done is fine in the poem, but I don’t recommend it in real life.)

Peace to your !

“When the Mood Strikes”

I consider myself an occasional poet because I don’t have a burning need to write, and I’ve gone months at a time without writing a poem. When the mood (or the muse) strikes, however, I’m quick to get the words down on paper. The following poem “struck” this past April. (Perhaps I should call it a prose poem? It makes me think of the saying, “You can call me anything you want; just don’t call me late for dinner.”)

Peace to your !

When the Mood Strikes

When the mood struck, I grabbed it in a hold of my own devising,
threw it in the pasta pot where the water was boiling, slammed down
the lid, and waited for the water to boil over. Then I drained it, rinsed it,
sliced it, minced it, tossed it in a pan with some fancy Spanish olive oil,
added wasabi for kick, mushrooms for umami, carrots for color, salt
and pepper to taste. Gave it five minutes for the vegetables to cook
and five more for good measure. Dumped it on a plate with the soggy
rice noodles, popped open a wine cooler, and had myself a little dinner.
When the mood strikes, I strike back.