Monday, January 30, 2017

SIX SCENTS WORTH

In the attic of my mind,  memories
are like dust motes riding sunbeams,
set in motion by scents linked to
sometimes seemingly insignificant
moments in life’s journey. 

The subtle scent of lilac takes
me back to the yard gate of my
childhood home, where the
lilac bloomed profusely every
Spring, its sweet fragrance a witness
to my learning to roller skate, and
later to my first kiss.

The delicate scent of new-mown hay,
its sweet smell released by the kiss
 of  prairie sun, conjures memories
of pedaling down country roads
where pheasants nested in the fencerows
and red-winged blackbirds perched  on
fence posts singing their joy to the world.

The pungent scent of coffee brewing
is reminiscent of the battered percolator on
 my grandmother’s big cook stove
that sent a wake-up call to all and sundry to
gather at the big round table for country ham,
biscuits and gravy, and a huge platter of
sunny side-up eggs glistening with ham drippings.

The glorious smell of a coming rain
kissing the air with its fragrance before
it makes its way across fields of grain
takes me to mother’s garden, where first drops raise
puffs of dust before they soak into the rich
black soil, nurturing the fruits of mother’s
labor that sustain us through the winter.

The smell of sunshine and sweat is linked
to memories of my father returning from
work in the field, responding to my cry of
“Lift me, Daddy”, swinging me high in
his strong arms, instilling in me a sense of
being loved and special,
the greatest gift of all.

The smell of wood burning carries
me to a cozy room with fireplace in the great
Smoky Mountains, where I hear again
the voices and laughter of
dear friends now gone and
awaiting me in the great what comes after.

Scents are the gossamer golden strands
of our lives that enfold  moments
and people we hold dear, so that we
might savor them time and time again.
***********

I belong to a small group of women writers.  Each month we choose a topic about which we write a brief essay or poem, and read what we have written.  For February, the chosen topic was "Scents" and "Six Scents Worth" is the result. 
Submitted for dVerse Open Link,  February, 2017

CALAMITY ON PURPLE LILAC CIRCLE

Haven't we all been in cyber isolation at one time or another?
Submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry
 http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
March, 2017

**********************


The day was dark as any could get
We couldn’t get onto the internet
Our iPad, laptop, HP and Uverse
Were all beset by a dreadful curse.
Nothing to do but sit and doodle,
Hopelessly lost without benefit of Google
We’re pitiful orphans that fate forsook
Unable to access our friends on Facebook
We just keep mumbling, “what to do, what to do”
We know we have e-mail, but it’s all on Yahoo.
We just stare blankly, saying “why, oh why”
Deep in despair without our wi-fi.
If we survive ‘til tomorrow, my son, his wife and me
We look to a hero from AT &T
Hopefully he’ll see our plight is tragic
And work some wonderful, mysterious magic.
We await his arrival with anticipation
Expecting an end to this cyber isolation,
And this feeling we have that minute by minute
The world’s going on, and we’re not in it!
**************

THE MAGIC SLIPPERS




I found the sparkly  slippers
In a battered treasure chest
“Magic slippers”, the genie said
I said “Surely you speak in jest”.

But I took them out and put them on
Convinced it was all for naught.
It’s silly to believe in magic…
At least that’s what I thought.

But the minute I buckled those beauties on
They changed my life, it’s safe to say
My aches and pains just were no more
Unbelievably, they’d gone away.

Well, I’ll be darned, I said to myself
I can probably dance and skip
If these things are really working
I’m off on a pleasure trip.

So I went to Bora Bora
And danced with the natives there
Then off to Hawaii to surf for a while
With the sea and sand in my hair.

I shopped til I dropped on the streets of Paris
And climbed the Eiffel Tower
I took a gondola ride in Venice
There was no end to my staying power!

I climbed the heights of Machu Pichu
On the high plains of Peru
I saw the Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat
And Thailand before I was through.

I saw the terra cotta soldiers
And danced on China’s Great Wall
I stopped in Dubai for a game of roulette
I was determined to see it all.

I was off to Easter Island
(Those heads are mysterious, methinks)
Then I traveled on to the pyramids
And marveled at the sphinx.

In Italy I saw the coliseum
And castles in the land of Eire
I visited the Cotswolds in England
And learned to pronounce Staffordshire

I saw the white cliffs of Dover,
Budapest, Hong Kong and Singapore
Berlin, the Alps and Sicily
And oh, so many more.

Then on we went to Jerusalem
And the shores of Galilee
There wasn’t a place we didn’t go
My magic slippers and me.

I wore out those magic slippers
But, oh what a ride it was
Do I believe in magic now?
Yes I do, because … well just because!
********
Posted to Poet Pantry on 2/4/17

MAN AND COMPUTER

God created man, and when that task was done
God said "I should give him something with which he can have fun
I know I gave him Eve, but he should have something cuter…”
And in his infinite wisdom, God gave man the computer.

Now man was quite excited as he played with his new toy
But soon he learned the headaches far outweighed the joy
And now it's not unusual to see man beat his chest and gasp
"I wish I were back in Eden, with the apple and the asp!"

***
Presented for the challenge at dVerse Poets Pub to create something in common meter.   I dearly love the cadence of rhyming poetry, and am only just beginning to appreciate open verse.

OF CUPS AND CASTLES

I came kicking and screaming into open verse poetry, insisting that poetry had to rhyme.  It is only of late that I've learned the poetry of creating word pictures.   This poem was my first effort at writing open verse in a  workshop led by Shari Wagner in 2012.
 
     THE  CUP
Eloquent with age
secrets lie within
your chipped porcelain
of lips that drank
from your communal cup
cool, clear water
from some unknown well.
    *****

.....and this was my second effort

   IRELAND

I long to go to Ireland,
away from its cities
into the green hills
to stand in a circle of stones
placed by ancient Celts.

I long to see the lochs,
deep and mysterious
with secrets as old as time.
I want to stand
in a great stone castle
whose walls have withstood
the onslaught of centuries,
holding secrets of bold knights
and shy maidens,
and listen to the whispers
of voices long stilled..

I want to stand in the green fields
where sheep graze,
and  see  heather
on the moors releasing
its sweet fragrance
into crisp, clear air.

Then, I want to step into
a thatch-roofed cottage
for a spot of tea
to ponder long
the things I have seen.

ABOUT FORKS

 Ponder the purpose of the fork
The solution is simple as can be
Through years of trial and error
Man determined the knife could not hold a pea.

A CUP OF RESTRAINT


It's Open Link night at dVerse, and I've decided
to share a poem of introspection.
February, 2017

****************

I’m the queen of blunt, I shoot from the lip
I’m sometimes the queen of complaint
I’ve spent my life with a lesson to learn
And that’s to use a cup of restraint.

I don’t play poker ‘cause everyone knows
If I’ve a full house or a bust
They look at my face which is sure to portray
My excitement, hope or disgust.

I’ve been trying for years, ever since I was young
To get rid of this inborn taint
To master the skill of holstering my tongue
And just use a cup of restraint.

Time’s running short, I’m nearing the end
Goodness knows, life's hour is late
If I can’t learn to practice a cup of restraint
Do you think they’ll open the golden gate?


MY LAST $20

Someone once asked "What would you do if you were down to your last $20?" ......

Ten things I’d do with my last twenty,
Me, the girl who’s always had plenty?
I learned well at my mother’s knee
To beware of the careless spending spree.
I’m not the trendiest girl on the block
But I’ve some put back in a well worn sock.

I’d need pen and paper so I could write
And something to read when it got to be night
I’d want a mu-mu, loose and flowing
I won’t wear a bra where I’m going.

I’ll gather my kids and we’ll head for the farm    
The one safe place, free from harm.
I’ll take along some packets of seeds
We’ll grow enough to meet our needs.

We may be down to our very last dime
But we’ll be living in a simpler time.
No electronic tethers, which some will think odd
But we’ll have time again to talk to God.

We’ll breathe fresh air, and dance in the sun
And count our blessings when day is done.
“They sure don’t have much”, some will say
But, then, what good is money anyway?

THE OPTIMIST


I looked inside to find despair
And found it simply wasn’t there
I thought perhaps that I could dredge
Some past affront and bitter edge
Maybe some hated dreadful wrong
That I could pack and take along
A personal loss on which to dwell
Some bottomless pit into which I fell
Surely if I think long enough
I can find some agonizing stuff.
But, try as I might to take a tumble
Into a hopeless, tangled jumble
Faith picks me up and takes me on
To each new and special dawn.
And life continues in beautiful prism
Buoyed on by endless optimism.