NaPoWriMo23 day 28 – A trio of poems written earlier in the month. Peace to your ♥!
ME! – once, a warm-up of sorts
ME! ME! – she teases, she sports
ME! ME! ME! – she picks up steam
ME! ME! ME! ME! – she goes extreme
ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! – a ME! crescendo!
ENOUGH! WE’LL LET YOU PLAY NINTENDO!
For several weeks, on the periphery, the thought of cheesecake has been tempting me. Not The Cheesecake Factory kind—none’s close enough to be a true temptation. I have in mind the Giant Eagle slice meant for two and labeled that way, though I confess to having eaten the whole thing myself in less than a day. These flings with sweet treats go way back, but I’m trying to get on track, and so I’ve been staying away from sugar of late, and that means no date with the Cheesecake. But I can’t avoid him entirely. I have to go to the Giant Eagle for other things, you know? And he’s always there, Mr. Hunk-o’-Hunk-o’-Cheesecake, hanging out by the produce, looking cool. Produce is healthy, right? I have to have my lettuce and peppers and tomatoes. Can I help it if my eyes stray a teeny bit? Or if my thoughts wander, and I follow them? Rhetorical questions—although I’m open to suggestions for next time. Because I made off with him this morning, and I hope it serves as a warning to others—mere surface attraction only leads to deep-down dissatisfaction.
in sunshine under
in the most delightful way.
A delightful day!
we note, and tomorrow’s clone,
we hope. [Three time zones.]
Ducks and geese:
not as many as
when the girls
last came, and
next time, we’ll buy the small bag
of corn. [Time travel.]
of a dubious
one foot each
in present, past, and future.
Be-ing dumb—not smart.
I want to
live life with
my focus not on then or
when but Now. But how?
progress—I can strive
to live each
not in-between, starting and
re-starting and re-
NaPoWriMo23 day 21 – A poem inspired by a recent trip to the City Park in Hagerstown, MD. Peace to your ♥!
NaPoWriMo22 Day 21– Two rain poems since it’s raining (again) here in western Pennsylvania. The first is a cascade poem for murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt. (Glummy in the poem is a mashup of gloomy and crummy.) The second is a belated response to the napowrimo.net day 13 prompt, to write a poem that states that everything’s going to be amazing. I wrote it as a choka, a poetry form I learned about this month. Check out the E. E. Cummings poem I reference here. Peace to your ♥!
It’s Raining, It’s Pouring
It’s raining, it’s pouring, The sky’s gray and boring. Another glummy day Here in western PA.
The newspaper is wet, The house smells of wet pet, Still you try to forget that It’s raining, it’s pouring.
If it were up to you, There’d be white clouds on blue And a yellow sun too, but The sky’s gray and boring.
It’s easier when dry To keep your spirits high. Till then you have to sigh—it’s Another glummy day.
Keep your umbrella near, Get used to faking cheer, The weather may not clear. We’re Here in western PA.
Most Amazing This Day
Have you seen the world Storm-washed and sun-dried? Seen it Afresh? Suddenly The unexpected spoiling Of your morning plans Appears most beneficent. B.R. (Before Rain In the annals of your life) You were a dullard, An uncomprehending oaf. A.R. you Wonder. The solidity of stones— How did that escape Your notice? Were trees always This sharply defined? The sky so vibrantly blue? Now you understand Cummings, the eyes of my eyes Are opened. You want To exalt the daffodils, Raise them from the earth And proffer their gold glory To God. Most amazing grace!
I happen to like dandelions. Each year we grow a wonderful crop of them. Peace to your ♥!
Dandelions shine like suns In skies of grassy green, Blaze for days and then, unseen, Change like magic overnight Into stars of milky white That wink out one by one.
The dandelion heads have all turned white. I like them so: it makes me think them wise, But better still is this their true surprise: That when I blow on one with all my might, The tiny seeds take wing in airy flight, And gracefully they dance before my eyes Like fairies out for summer exercise. The breeze soon carries them beyond my sight, And I am left to wonder where they go. I think they must alight upon a cloud To bask there in the sun’s delightful glow, Then when the weather sharpens here below, They put on winter gowns that do them proud, And gently they drift down again as snow.