SELF INSPECTION

We’re asked to take a look at ourselves
this week at Poets United.   I’ve been
in absentia for a time, on a journey to
rediscover my elusive muse, but here
are some thoughts on me!
Submitted to Midweek Motif Poets United
June 27, 2018
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Contemplating myself is scary
And leaves me considerably wary
But, fighting an urge for refusal,
I undertake a quick perusal

It seems I’ve retained my cognition
But suffer a bit from physical attrition
I try to avoid my reflection
Being uncomfortable with close inspection

Who is that, I think, with hair of gray
She was young and feisty just yesterday
She was a fast-paced multi-tasker
She had all the answers, just ask her

Straight and tall, she was rather well-built
Today she walks with a forward tilt
Slower in step than in days of yore
Now young men call her ma’am and open the door

She’s older today and wonderfully wise
Still young at heart, but now in disguise.

HAPPINESS

We’re to consider “happiness” for
this week’s Midweek Motif.  I am
blessed, and seem to have a working
acquaintance with happiness.
Submitted to Poets United
May 16, 2018

Could it be happiness is elusive
        hidden by thoughts obtrusive
While dwelling on discontent
        and wondering where happy went
Perhaps we expect too much…
        glorious grand moments and such
Meanwhile quiet moments of  pleasure
        could bring happiness beyond measure
But we carelessly pass them by
        while we're looking for “pie in the sky”.

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The photo is of an Oregon sunrise taken
by my daughter.

THE OLD HOME PLACE

Old abandoned houses always make me wax poetic
and wonder where are they now, how did their lives
unfold, and what memories drift in the dust
particles behind empty windows.
Here's a bit of rhyme submitted to dVerse, where
we're asked to consider the art of learning.  I continue
to learn the nuances of poetry from my fellow poets
here, and I am STILL trying to learn to negotiate
Photoshop for use in creating my digital art.
Submitted to Tuesday Poetics #220
May 8, 2018
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SUMMERTIME

Midweek Motif at Poets United
asks us to feature Summer. The word
conjures pleasant vignettes.
Submitted to Poets United
April 26, 2018

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Grasshoppers and fireflies
         Sunday afternoon croquet games
                          Home made Ice cream
   Sheets smelling of sunshine
                               Bicycle rides at dusk
          Song of the meadowlark from the fencepost
Sweet-smelling fields of clover
                   Hoot owl in the oak tree
    Reading Zane Grey under the elm tree
                          Cold, clear water from the well
 Magnificent summer storms
            Tomatoes ripe and warm from the garden
                           Sweet, purple grapes from the old vine
Hollyhocks by the yard fence
     The low of cattle in the evening
                       Life, so simple and sweet

GATHERED MEMORIES

Lilian asks us to consider
the word “gather” in
this week’s quadrille of
44 words.
Submitted to dVerse
April 22, 2018
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in reverie
memories drift from
the attic of my brain  
and I revisit
the many actors
in the drama
of  my life ...
some are extras
entering stage left
exiting stage right
some have leading roles  ...
I gather their faces
in my mind yet again

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Digital art is my own.

THE LAST TIMES

Idle thoughts in rhyme, submitted to Poets United
Poetry Pantry #399,  and to dVerse Open Link #218.
March 16, 2018
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Sometimes, as our life progresses
There are moments we show no concern
Absorbed with our busy thought processes
They pass by to never return
    They're the last times

A lunch with favorite people
Lifetime friendships honed by the years
The next time a chair may be empty
And what’s left memories and tears.
    It was the last lunch.

A cheek turned to his goodbye kiss
As he hurried out the door
A screech of brakes and shatter of glass
And life as she knew it is no more.
   It was the last kiss.

She waved as the schoolbus pulled away
A day to be gloriously free
But madness stalked the classroom
And he fell to a bullet he didn’t see.
   It was their last day.

We must treasure the special moments
And consider what we do and say
There is no guarantee for tomorrow
Perhaps all we have is today.
   And the last times.

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THE WHY OF IT

Haibun Monday, and we’re asked the
Who, When and Why of our poetic effort…
who inspired us, what’s our style, and
why we write.   Surely that sends us all
into the throes of self examination!
Submitted to dVerse 
March 19, 2018

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seasons come and go
our life pages turn onward
as autumn turns to winter
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When I look the long way back to my childhood, I recall 
my mother reciting poetry to me.  Her favorite was James
Whitcomb Riley’s “Li’l Orphant Annie”.   Something about
the rhythm and rhyme was soothing to me.  There were
other poems she’d been required to memorize in her brief
years of schooling, but the others fade from my memory. 
Surely, though, it was my mother’s love of poetry that was
my inspiration.  My first poem, probably at the age of
about 10,  is lost in the pages of time, but I remember the
first couple of lines, no doubt written after a rousing Bible
study class …
“Is there dust on your Bible
Dust on your holy book
Then there’s dust on your heart, brother
Are you afraid to look?”
For the next 70 plus years (and to this day) I took solace in
the rhythm of rhyming poetry, so my style remains that
somewhat outdated style, which seems to have given way
to open verse.   Why do I write?  Simply because I feel the
need to commit to paper thoughts and events in my life,
sometimes in rhyme and often in prose form.   I like to
think one day some descendant will be interested
in the life and times of a remote ancestor!

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Photo is my own digital art.