Screaming Meemies and 2 more

NaPoWriMo23 day 28 – A trio of poems written earlier in the month. Peace to your !

Screaming Meemies

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!

Sugar, Sugar

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. 

The Times of My Life


We’re walking
in sunshine under
blue-wide sky,
breeze-blown but
in the most delightful way.
A delightful day!


A day-gift—
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.]


We’re masters
of a dubious
art: keeping
one foot each 
in present, past, and future.
Be-ing dumb—not smart.


I want to
be present-perfect,
live life with
blinders on,
my focus not on then or
when but Now. But how?


Practice makes
progress—I can strive
to live each
moment clean,
not in-between, starting and
re-starting and re-


Starting now. 

NaPoWriMo23 day 21 – A poem inspired by a recent trip to the City Park in Hagerstown, MD. Peace to your !

It’s Raining, It’s Pouring plus 1 more

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 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!

Mr. October

Here comes Mr. October—
He’s the coolest month around.
Watch him strut his autumn airs
While his fan club gathers round.

The leaves sigh as he approaches;
They clap as he breezes by.
Some blush a brilliant shade of red
When he looks them in the eye.

See, as he swaggers onward,
How the leaves fall down in awe?
They’re swept up in admiration
Of the cool month they just saw.

Happy fall to those in the northern hemisphere and a happy day to all! Peace to your !

Treed (A Cautionary Tale)

The Harrods had a horrid
Loud-mouth of a daughter
Who didn’t listen to them
Even when she oughter.
She climbed into a pin oak tree
And yelled at them, “You won’t catch me.”

And she wouldn’t come down
No matter what they bought her.
And she only pooh-poohed
The more that they besought her.
She hid within that pin oak tree
And yelled at them, “You won’t catch me.”

And she wouldn’t come down
When birds flew down and prod her,
And she only nyah-nyahed
At dinners that they brought her.
She stayed up in that pin oak tree
And yelled at them, “You won’t catch me.”

And she wouldn’t come down
Even when the days got hotter,
And she only hah-hahed
When offered drinks of water.
She settled in that pin oak tree
And yelled at them, “You won’t catch me.”

Since she wouldn’t come down
And she acted ever odder,
The Harrods they grew tired
And wondered why they fought her.
They left her in that pin oak tree
And went inside and let her be.

Still she didn’t come down,
So the squirrels came and got her,
And stored her for the winter,
And this is what it taught her:
If a ripe old age you wish to see,
Don’t act like a nut in a pin oak tree.

And finishing out the tree quintet, this narrative poem. Peace to your !

Mother Nurture

Come, my dear,
No need to hang your head.
Draw near to me instead—
I welcome you.

Here, my dear,
My trunk may not be wide,
Yet sit here by my side
And lean on me.

There, my dear,
My green boughs will shade you
While your heart is made new
By nature’s charm.

May the firm ground calm you.
May the sweet breeze balm you.
May the long view fill you.
May the silence still you.

Go, my dear.
When your cares assail you,
I will never fail you.
Come, come again.

The fourth poem of my Myra Cohn Livingston-inspired tree quintet, a dramatic mask. Peace to your !

Two Dandelion Poems

I happen to like dandelions. Each year we grow a wonderful crop of them. Peace to your !

Dandelion Skies

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.

Dandelion Song

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.

Published in Glass: Facets of Poetry, April 2017.