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Oct 2019 · 298
'Ten Years Gone'
Mary-Eliz Oct 2019
I miss my friend so much
the one I could tell anything
no judgment,
no advice,
just understanding.
Ten years gone now
too long to be friend-lonely
too long to not
see her smile
too long to not
share tears
and laughter
too long to be without
that safe, caring place
she held in her heart.

Ten years gone

I miss my son so much
first-born, brain tumor fighter
brave, determined, inspiring
Ten years gone now
too long to be son-lonely
too long to feel his brothers'
brother-lonely
too long to not
see his smile
too long to not
share the tears
and laughter
too long to not
share the fight
too long not to say
"Good Morning, Sunshine!"

July and November
months of painful memories
and in between
- Autumn -
the dying of the year

Ten years gone now
too long to carry grief
that never goes away.
Mary-Eliz Jan 2019
There's a song...
a piece of music
I wish you could hear

when I hear it
a couple appears in my mind

they move lightly
step forward
back
forward
smooth
two as one

the music
flavor of Latin
sultry guitar
dulcet violin
breathy flute
suffuses their bodies
tawny velvet skin
ignited in a warm glow

hands raised
palms touching
crossover steps
bodies syncopated
perfectly in time
perfectly in step
perfectly together

turn
turn

his hands on her
slender waist
move softly
in rhythm
with the easy swaying
of her hips

her silky dress
floats and ripples
a scarlet river
shining under fluorescent "stars"

their gaze steady
into each others' rich
mahogany eyes
until she is twirled
back to his chest

hands still on her waist
his lips tenderly brush her neck
he takes her hand
she turns
into him again

in that moment
no one
nothing else exists
only the music
and their fiery zeal
""Ak Verlang Na Ju" is a song in Africaans. It means "I'm longing for you." recorded by Wouter Kellerman. the CD "Love Language". The song is by Sonja Herholdt.
Aug 2018 · 529
Orchard
Mary-Eliz Aug 2018
gently interrupted by velvet mountains
burnt sienna soil stretches through olive trees
that lift their limbs toward blue expanse
where pillowy clouds drift with ease

shadows lengthen as the sun spreads
a warmth perceptible to the view
energy and life pouring into ripening fruit
soon harvest gathering will be due

tracks of vehicles between the rows
show signs of tending that's been done
through summer's growing season
and years before when they were begun

saplings planted there with care
by tanned, robust yet gentle hands
have grown taller year by year
where now a stately orchard stands
A picture prompt - reminiscent of van Gogh's paintings of olive tree groves.
Aug 2018 · 2.2k
Waltz of Time
Mary-Eliz Aug 2018
in synergy of sky and sea
shadowy clouds bestow the rain
the gracious sea accepts
then gives it back again

filtering through the clouds
sunshine warms the scene
dancing on the ripples
creating a resplendent sheen

endless sky and water deep
all but a seamless view
who gives color to the other
which one is more blue

allies in a great expanse
their grandeur is sublime
their waltz remains unchanged
as they measure out its time
Inspired by a landscape/seascape in which clouds over the sea in the distance appear to either rain down or draw up mist.
Aug 2018 · 386
A New Life
Mary-Eliz Aug 2018
Ten Word Challenge: orphan/ gilded/ scattered/ fins/ library/ pavement/ plowshares/ stamp/ outcry/ tomatoes


Orphan books at the library
scattered on rickety tables
set up on the cracked pavement
await a new home at bargain prices

Books whose stamps
of classification are faded
Some with gilded edges
like the fins of goldfish

Books rich with knowledge
ready for curious fertile minds
like soil being turned by plowshares
for corn, wheat or rich red tomatoes

Books that - if not re-homed
if tossed or burned -
would rightly cause an outcry
from book lovers everywhere
Jul 2018 · 377
The Moon Waits
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
behind a diaphanous curtain of fog
the moon is perched between dark clouds
in anticipation of lovers to entice
stillness surrounds, no breath of a breeze

then rustling leaves, footsteps
tell of passion that can't be confined
young bodies enfold with insatiable desire
moon, contented, discreetly slips behind the clouds
Jul 2018 · 455
Darkness
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
though the moon tries
peeks through the trees

we can’t see in the night
but we can feel

weep not for darkness
but for unfeeling hearts

the moon tries
peeks through the trees

we can’t see in the night
but we can hear

weep not for darkness
but for those who won’t listen

the moon tries
peeks through the trees

we can’t see in the night
but we can dream

weep not for darkness
but for those unable to dream

the moon peeking
through the trees cries
Inspired by Federico Garcia Lorca poem.
Jul 2018 · 352
June Strawberries
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
Aztec gold-brown soil between
rows and rows of summer green
invites berry-gatherers
shorts and sun hats
baskets in hand

techniques unique to each

stooping for close inspection
looking for perfection
color, form, ripeness
choosing one by one

bending just enough to grab
handfuls
in a hurry
sun beats down
wiping brow

others mosey
enjoying
the peace of this stretch
of land so well tended
so bounteous

best approach
little child plopped down
near the beginning
hand to mouth fast as she can
crimson juice coloring lips
drips down chin
beneath contented impish smile
A memory of my two-year-old niece's introduction to strawberry picking.
Jul 2018 · 304
Is There No Turning Back
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
can we get from here
to there

wherever there may be

is it even possible
to make

that leap of faith

can we see clearly through
the mist that rises

minds wavering on the edge
of the unknown

hearts aching to continue
while souls seek rest

they run past in our minds...

all the cliches

journey begins...
one step

it's not the destination...

life is a journey

one step at a time


but none speak of a leap
as some steps must be

none speak of journey's end
from running out of space to step

is this the point at which one
must learn to fly or turn about

is it defeat

or is the turning step simply
a first step of a new journey
Picture prompt...young man standing at a point of land out into water, mist rising, mountains on the other side.
Jul 2018 · 275
Choosing a Pet
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
I see you there looking at me
cutest thing you'll ever see
pink peach fuzz all over myself
I sort of look like a cute little elf

my nose pokes through the fence
to show my eyes black and intense
I'm just a little guy, won't be a hog
I'll get along great if you have a dog

I'll be loyal, I can learn tricks
I'll trot along, feet making clicks
I want a home, I want to be taken
just please, oh please, don't name me "Bacon"
Cutest picture of a little pig! I want one.
Jul 2018 · 946
Another Clerihew
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
that crazy man Rodrigo Duterte
best watch out or he'll end up muerte
if he keeps on being a windbag
he might find himself sporting a toe tag
Jul 2018 · 375
Robert Frost (A Clerihew)
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
I often wonder if Robert Frost
in all his life ever got lost
did that road he took need corrections
if so, as a man, did he ask directions?
Jul 2018 · 2.0k
Who Knew?
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
I had fun creating a fairy garden
but now it drives me crazy
I have to pull every single ****
my fairies all are lazy
Jul 2018 · 273
Times Three in Ten Words
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
the sea, the moon and me
makes
love times three!
Jul 2018 · 286
Sad Artwork
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
fingers feel for loved ones
tears when they are found
names etched in solid history
lives taken in the emptiness
of war
A challenge to use less than 25 word poem; prompt word: wall.
Jul 2018 · 278
The Paradelle
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
it may have been a parody
may have been in jest
written to be awful
certainly not his best

but in and of itself
it doesn't come across
as parody or humor
more as a gaping dross

but I challenge anyone
to follow rules precise
to form the proper stanzas
make them turn out concise

an attempted joke by Billy
has been turned upon its ear
it can be done "correctly"
and won't just disappear
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
It's done - the book, that is
ready to be purchased
finally turned it in complete
each and every "sheet"

though it's only on a screen
it will be printed on demand
so step right up to Amazon
tell your family and your friends

HP poets are in it, too
so give a hand to them
if you do you will do good
your funds will be well spent

not only will they affirm
deserving poets on HP
half the funds received will go
to let poor cats & dogs go free

to find forever homes
to leave behind the cages
of rescue shelters at which some
may have been for ages
Thanks to all who submitted work for this creation of love for animals! I hope we can make a bit of difference in the lives of those who need rescuing and a loving home. Please have your friends and family consider purchasing as 50% will go to animal rescue efforts. Just go to Amazon..title is "Forever In Our Hearts: The Unconditional Love of Pets". Thank you, kind-hearted animal lovers!
Jun 2018 · 453
Robert Frost
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
I often wonder if Robert Frost
in all his life ever got lost
did that road he took need corrections?
if so, as a man, did he ask directions?
Hadn't heard of this poem form (Clerihew) till recently. Had to give it a whirl. :-)
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
wrote a poem about my dad
posted a few days ago
entered into a contest
but not for any dough

since it was for Fathers' Day
it makes me extra proud
it won a place and will be read
to an online listening crowd

on a show tonight 10 pm
Late Night Poets is its name
it's just a little ego boost
won't bring me any fame

but I do hope my Daddy's listening
it's all about him, you know
even though he's not in this life
had to leave it long ago

hope he enjoys being
remembered in a special way
Hey, daddy, this is for you
Happy Fathers' Day!
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/latenightpoets
Jun 2018 · 344
What Was in That?
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
Hell holds out a glass
it looks like it’s red wine
But think again, its color
is something like a suspicious sign

You hope that you are wrong
but of your worries that’s the least
Smells waft up – like Sulphur and brine
from orange flames around the horrible beast

He puffs a cigarette, blows blue smoke
“bwa-ha-ha” sounds his ugly scoff
Your mouth tastes like kerosene
it feels like you need to cough

His wrinkled, gnarled and scaly hands
grab hold of your quivering shoulders
Shrieking, you flail to get yourself free
while all around the heat smolders

Wake up, wake up, come back to life
it’s a nightmare that you’ve had
Good grief, where've you been
could it really be that bad?!

It was awful, so very real
thought I was gonna die!
Tell you this much, you mutter
that's the last time I get high!
Prompt" use all these words"

Hope:
Tastes like wine
Smells like cigarette
Feels like high
Looks like hell
Sounds like life..
Jun 2018 · 312
Ours Are Biggest
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
US
first
greed
impede
mislead
misdeeds
supersede
need to lead
people bleed
so much gall
install a wall
no protocol
we'll all fall
~futility~
stupidity
incivility
hostility
ignobility
scurril­ity
instability
vulnerability
insensibility
destructibility
thump­ing chest virility
winning, an impossibility
pathetically  inevitability
~~~war~~~
Rework and add-on.
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
Wrote a poem for my daddy
just a few weeks ago
'bout how he had a wooden leg
but how he danced with such a flow

Sometimes I got to dance with him
it was always a lovely chance
because even with his wooden leg
my daddy, he sure could dance

But there's so much more to tell
loved his wife and seven kids, too
made a comfortable home for them
worked hard his whole life through

Though his father didn't spare the whip
he vowed he'd never treat us that way
we greatly respected his authority
he'd only speak and we'd obey

Sunday afternoons he'd take us for
leisurely rides in the family car
if we passed a Dairy Queen
I'd say "Daddy, I like ice cream"

I don't remember saying that
but my sisters tell me I did
since he always stopped
they didn't mind their little sister kid

bedtime hugs involved an unusual request
"daddy, please whisker me"
he'd rub his chin on my cheeks
I'd giggle and squeal with glee

He fixed up and painted a bike for me
as I recall it was bright blue
he was there when I was a little one
he was there for me as I grew

He was there to help me learn to drive
and to pick out my very first car
when he walked me down that aisle
I felt like a shining star

He's been gone a really long time
but strong memories I still see
he may have had a wooden leg
but, my daddy, he was perfect to me
Jun 2018 · 288
To My Human
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
Crazy Cat Lady? Uh-uh!
I'm the Crazy Cat!
Come to mama, sweetie
let's have a little chat

need to get a few things straight
need to set some bounds
don't you worry 'bout my weight
I could use a few more pounds

so feed me several times a day
cream, cheese and tuna fish
beef pate and chicken stew
in stemmed fancy crystal dish

my bed is not nearly soft enough
it feels just like a Brillo
so I'll just have your bed
but I'll need a fluffier pillow

my collar, it has no pizzazz
it's such a drab old thing
I require one with jewels
my beauty demands some bling

if you agree to all these needs
I just might stick around
if not, well check these teeth and claws...

oh yes, I also want a diamond crown
Jun 2018 · 280
Shady One
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
I am a Part to Full Shade flower
I can only be in Full Sun for brief times
else my petals will burn and shrivel
my roots turn dry, thirsty in hot climes

When I'm too long in the sun
protective spots appear, speckles
or you may call them freckles
Angel kisses so say some

I envy Full Sun blossoms as they
smile and glow in summer's light
flourishing in their sunny patches as I seek
a full-leafed tree where it's not so awfully bright

Ah! In the shade, I like it here
No need to cover up
So here I'll stay and happy be
Just please don't cut down my tree
Jun 2018 · 387
Horizon's Blush
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
the sun descends lower
spreading
a cerise and tangerine haze

across lilac clouds,
while a pink blush of stillness
diffuses
across earth and heaven
creating a soft space
for nighttime

till finally
the Daystar pulls up
its night covers,
letting the darkness
take hold, while
dreaming of the morning’s
rosy aurora
Prompt: "your best 'pink' ."
Jun 2018 · 244
No, This Ain't It!
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
here I sit
things to do
that should be done
yet here I sit

here I sit
books unread
shelves undusted
yet here I sit

here I sit
things to write
remain unwrit
yet here I sit

'cause this ain't it
Puttering away on a Saturday.
Jun 2018 · 386
60 to zero
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
from dreams
to nightmares

flight to plummet

mania to collapse

flame to meltdown

zenith to zero

in 60 seconds flat
Jun 2018 · 507
sinkhole
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
eerily summoned

lonely
               
                      drifting
                                     on
                                                       unknown
                                         paths
                               forlorn
               bereft

                                   mislaid in
                  strange
places

unhinged senses
surreal thoughts
chilling dreams

lunatic demons
unholy ghosts

songs unsung
in
minor chords

music unnoted
in
words unheard

crazed
movements
 undanced

meaningless
nothingness
psychotic
paranoid
hopeless
u­seless
insipid
devoid
zero
nil
0
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
no care, no stress
no traffic sounds
relaxing in or out
bliss that knows no bounds

building castles
flying kites
seagulls' call
in playful flights

in hammock lazing
palm tree's pleasant shade
reading, writing
sipping lemonade

whispering breezes
softening light
ocean's rhythm
lulling sleep at night

waking to the sky
pink and tangerine
strolling in the sand
beside the water's sheen

no care, no stress
no traffic sounds
relaxing in or out
bliss that has no bounds
Jun 2018 · 143
Old Roses Never Die
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
its sweet fragrance imprinted
on olfactory nerve
bloom pressed in a book
essence is thus preserved

its delicate hues
painted in one's thoughts,
petals counted in loves me,
loves me nots

its hips used to make a tea
florets turned into potpourri

if it seems too brown or dry
give it another try

don't do anything rash
don't throw it in the trash

keep smiling and do not weep
put it on the compost heap

doesn't have to be its final ovation
you may get a (re-in)carnation
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
if I can't think what
the problem can be
well, then it just has
to be me!

even if no problem at all
imagination jumps in
kicks me right in the shins
from there a mountain will grow
out of a tiny mole hill, oh woe!

I know this is something I do
I remind myself it's nothing new
yet my senses seem to dislodge
finding ways to my own sabotage.

it's deep in my heart and my mind
a solution I'd sure love to find
to a problem that this time I know
is definitely me...without doubt.
My foot looks like swiss cheese!
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
it seems no matter which way I goes
I'm never much further in than my toes
always feeling left out
and having self-doubt
but I guess that's just how the wind blows.
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
when I heed the ocean's pull
I hear its rhythmic roll
it makes my heart seem full
creating music in my soul

when the mountains call
with their mist so softly rising
above their majestic sprawl
my dreams are mesmerizing

I hear the ocean's rhythmic roll
its gentle lapping waves
creating music in my soul
the peace my spirit craves

with mountain mist so softly rising
above gently rolling crowns
my dreams are mesmerizing
of that peaceful sacred ground

ocean's gentle lapping waves
licking feet, tickling toes
the peace my spirit craves
takes away my woes

above gently rolling crowns
the sky cerulean blue, a part
of that peaceful sacred ground
that lifts my grateful heart

ocean licking feet, tickling toes
enjoyment to the full
takes away my woes
when I heed the ocean's pull

the sky cerulean blue, a part
of enjoyment to enthrall
that lifts my grateful heart
when I hear the mountains' call
Tried adding to the Ocean Pantoum adding the mountains as an intertwined pantoum. I love both.
Jun 2018 · 291
My Dream of Italy
Mary-Eliz Jun 2018
I’ve not been there but would love to go
to a country rich with dancing, singing
full of life, cathedral bells all ringing
Lush vines, glistening purple berries grow

Pasta carbonera and gelato
Gustatory satisfaction bringing
Romantic dinners while hearts are winging
blushing Crimson wines, candlelight aglow

walking cobbled streets beneath heaven’s blue
being sung to in gondola reclined

ancient ruins, arts and mountain view
fountains for wishing, two hundred year steps to climb

street vendors, smiling faces greeting you
a peaceful, joyous way to spend one’s time.
Attempt at an Italian sonnet...emphasis on the "attempt"  :-)
May 2018 · 1.6k
Like a Whisper
Mary-Eliz May 2018
He was just thirteen,
still a child,
when he lost his leg.
A tent pole from
a church revival
crushed
the life out of it.
I remember hearing
stories...
gangrene,
doctors having to wait
too long...
something about my grandfather...
they couldn't find him
or
he wouldn't sign
papers.

I'm not sure.
The memories of the stories
are fuzzy.
I just know
my daddy had a wooden leg.

It was his right leg...
I think.

We took it for granted.
It seemed so normal,
his prosthesis.  We never
called it
that...
prosthesis.
It was his
wooden leg.

You might not expect it,
with a wooden leg and all,
but my daddy was
a great dancer.
Light as a whisper.
When he danced,
nobody knew...
about his leg.
And those who did know
forgot.

I can see him gliding
around the dance floor
with my mom in his arms.
They were as one,
swaying and moving
with the music.

Sometimes...

I got to dance with him.
I remember it so well.
I can close my eyes
and
feel the smooth
polished floor
under my feet
and
my daddy's strong
arms around me.

When I danced
with my daddy
I was secure
and
confident.
I felt graceful
and
flowing.
He guided you,
smooth and easy,
so natural.
I can still feel the lilting rhythm.

Now

I'm not a great dancer,
though I'd like to be,
but
when I danced
with my daddy
I could dance.
I was agile
             and fluid
                    and free.

I skimmed the air.

'Cause even with
a wooden leg,

my daddy,

he sure could dance.
This is a "rerun" but some things I've been reading and writing made me think of my daddy, feel nostalgic. He's been gone a good while as he died too young, but I hope he and my mom are still dancing somewhere!
May 2018 · 1.1k
I Can't Keep Up
Mary-Eliz May 2018
long-legged brothers
daddy long legs, too

hurry, scurry

wait up,
I can't keep up with you

slow down
wait for me

I'm lagging
don't you see


~~~~~~~~~~

read...read...

scurry...scurry

always feeling in a hurry

so many...so much
you write too fast

it's like walk-running
in the past

slow down...
I lag behind it's true

slow down, wait for me
I can't keep up!

I can't keep up with you!
I know I likely miss a lot of real gems but oh lordy! it is hard to keep up. I still have short legs and walk fast :-)
May 2018 · 283
Jewels Across the Sea
Mary-Eliz May 2018
set down on satin lining
velvet box laid cautiously
placed on top of other cargo
for the voyage on the sea

strands of precious shining stones
stowed in Captain's quarters
second mate stood by to guard
it was the Captain's orders

secured and safely in the hold
I had no need to fret
the lateen sails were readied
drawn up the mast and set

sun shone brilliant, sky so clear
along Africa's gold coast shore
the journey would be smooth
captain couldn't have asked for more

with Portugal as destination
and royalty waiting there
crew's footsteps scurried on the deck
there was excitement in the air

the caravel set out to sail
'twas in the sixth month of the year
that traditional wedding time
and the date was coming near

the date I had to be delivered
for the princess bride to be
to be worn above her ***** fair
sparkling gems from 'cross the sea

I'll match her love-filled eyes
and complete the four required
not sure of old or new or borrowed
but for blue she'll have sapphire.
Oh my! What an "assignment"...prompt word: caravel.; write from the perspective of something blue.
Mary-Eliz May 2018
Behind every dream, every hope lies
visions of something surely better
some are grandiose, some fantasy
others are practical to the letter

yet all are fondly held within
until their time is right, unfazed by falls,
rocky road or rough terrain
equally valuable to those who
quest for them with all they have inside
not giving up so they can proudly say I tried.
Ten letters assigned by someone who chose them randomly.  First of each line, at least 5 words per line.
Not great but I can say "I tried." And thanks for playing along, Verlie
Mary-Eliz May 2018
I find this challenge daunting
one that I’ve not tried before
hope my efforts are not wanting
and that I get a decent score

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

Hope my efforts are not wanting
I’ve tied myself in knots galore
as this contest is so taunting
and has become a frightful chore

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

as this contest is so taunting
why did I make the challenge more
I didn’t set out to be vaunting
please help my rhyming I implore

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

I didn’t set out to be vaunting
oh! thank god I’m on verse four
with this exercise so exhausting
I'm quite sure I couldn't do one more

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar
Roundelay
  By Lawrence Eberhart | January 14, 2013 | didactic
There is some confusion online as to the meaning of the term “roundelay,” with some references confusing it with the French “rondelet” and others describing it as any poem with a refrain. Actually, the roundelay, rondelet, rondeau, rondel, and other similar sounding poems all spring from a common French origin, but are all very different in contemporary use. The roundelay’s many repeating couplets and limited rhymes can make it a difficult form to write, but as with many successful poems with refrains, can also make for profound or esoteric poetry.
The roundelay consists of four sestets (six-line stanzas) made up of twelve repeating couplets (two-line stanzas, one of which repeats as each stanza’s last two lines. The stanzas’ couplets A,B,C,D ,E and R (the continuing refrain) combine in the following pattern:
A B R … B C R … C D R … D E R
So, in the second stanza, “B C R” represents six-lines (three couplets), with couplet “B” repeating from the first stanza, couplet “C” repeating in the following stanza, and its last couplet “R” repeating as every stanza’s last two lines. In addition, each couplet’s first line rhymes with other couplets’ first lines and all second lines rhyme with each other as well, making the rhyme scheme:
a-b-a-b-a-b … a-b-a-b-a-b … a-b-a-b-a-b … a-b-a-b-a-b
Remember that in a rhyming pattern, lines ending in a sound designated by “a” only rhyme with other “a” lines, “b” lines only with other “b” lines, and so on.
Trochaic tetrameter (four feet of “DUM-dah” per line, see “Meter”) is a requirement, but it is permissible for some of the lines to be one syllable short.


Ha-ha-ha!! Neither profound nor esoteric.
May 2018 · 320
Keyboard Smash Challenge
Mary-Eliz May 2018
mirrors don’t show the entire picture
reflecting, yet there’s so much more
somewhere in the core of every person looking in
all seeking answers, questing dreams
pictures just as mirrors cannot reveal the whole
defining only that which eye of camera sees
matching not the truest spirit
overlooking hopes that lie within
garnering merely the fleshly persona
not the genuine, not the one therein
10 random letters typed on keyboard; used in order as first letter of lines; at least 5 words per line.
May 2018 · 381
Truth
Mary-Eliz May 2018
oh such humility
is found here

not a cocky one
in the lot

no narcissism
or conceitedness

not a word about
**** so taut

not a one thinks
he's better

than any other
on the site

or in the world
for that matter

who thinks he's
always right

not one thinks
that he is

God's gift to
humankind

or that others
swoon for him

because he's so
very fine

at least most
don't write it

a bragging
load of poo

if you have to
write about it

it's certainly
not true!
"The truth?!...you can't handle the truth!"
May 2018 · 319
Running the Alphabet
Mary-Eliz May 2018
Excitedly I drew my pen
to have a bit of fun
to zero in on the ABC's
to take them for a run
knowing that to use them up
is really an endeavor
and that the venerable judge
is known to be quite clever.
For a "contest" challenge to use all letters in poem.
Mary-Eliz May 2018
With Poe-try you can surely
get your Words' worth
So many words are waiting
like a Wolfe at your door,
for their Cummings into being.

If you listen, they Pound
upon your brain
They Lamb-aste your viscera,
making you Nash your teeth.
They create a Millay in your head.
So many shapes, so many Hughes

Lusting for Moore they Lear
at you when you least expect.
Look back at them!

Like Frost upon the windowpane
they write themselves,
then, when all is said and Donne
melt away too soon.

Grasp them when you can.
Put them in a Rowe
Taylor
them to your muse,
use your Whit, man !
Dusted off out of the "archives".
May 2018 · 432
"Some Are More Equal"
Mary-Eliz May 2018
.......................................it                        ­     is
                                     a cat's                      duty
                                 ­ to be cute                 and purr
                           when petted to not come when called  
                          unless there is food involved and then
                      it should ( @ ) be fish, milk ( @ ) or cheese
                       beef in gravy, chicken in sauce or a can of
---------------smelly cat food that (**) makes the poor dog-----------------
 ----------------- salivate feeling  deprived as he looks at---------------------       
                            his dish of kibbles so dry so boring
                             thinking why not me I could be a
                                  cat I could learn to purr and         
                                          check me out I'm
                                              already cute
                                                   (    )
                                                   (    )
                                                   (    )
I love both cats and dogs!
May 2018 · 337
Firearm
Mary-Eliz May 2018
steely cold
chilling drilling killing
innocent children's blood spilling
gun
A Cinquain - five lines. Line one is the one-word title; Line two - two words to describe title; Line 3 - three words that tell action Line 4 - four word phrase to express feeling; Line 5 - another word for title
May 2018 · 376
Exit the Tempest (ABC Poem)
Mary-Eliz May 2018
All night long
Below a darkening sky
Comes a howling wind
Drowning other sounds
Each gust stronger than the one before
Finally the rain begins to pour
Growling thunder in between
Heaven's anger seeming
Insatiable as lightning,
Jagged, burns
Knifelike slashes in the sky
Lighting up the darkened
Midnight hour
No end in sight
Only a brief occasional silence
Passing through
Quickly come and gone
Reverberating
Sound
Throughout the night
Until morning is slightly
Visible over the horizon
Wind quietens, rain becomes a drizzle
X-it the tempest as the sun's
Yellow rays bring the morning to lavender
Zinnias and sky-blue Forget-me-nots
Not the ABC poem form as it showed on the site where I found it. Went a slightly different way.
"ABC - A poem that has five lines and creates a mood, picture, or feeling. Lines 1 through 4 are made up of words, phrases or clauses while the first word of each line is in alphabetical order. Line 5 is one sentence long and begins with any letter."
May 2018 · 461
Bewildered
Mary-Eliz May 2018
what is happening

has the earth fallen
off its rotation
leaning on the edge
of oblivion

has the sun died
burnt out
like an exhausted
light bulb

has the moon imploded
crumbled
fallen to dust

I realize not

and yet

the world seems askew
out of sync

I can't find an answer
it's out of reach
beyond an eternity

my mind can't fathom
can't comprehend

my thoughts are confined
within this realm

and so
it continues

the earth spins
the sun shines
the moon exists

and I wonder
Mary-Eliz May 2018
Anybody listening?
Gunshots sound
children fall
bullets fly

down crowded halls

families wail,
               families cry

for their loved ones dead
their loved ones gone

             ...yet life goes on

shouts of terror
screams of fear
this time eight (?) are dead

don't they hear?

shot in the heart
shot in the head

they're dead,
               they're gone

...yet life goes on

prayers and condolences
such empty words
sent by our leaders
                     ...afterwards

after they're dead,
                  after they're gone

and life goes on

don't see,
            don't hear,
                        don't speak
like the symbolic three

"It's not the time to talk"
Good god, when will it be?

Too late when they're gone
                       ...and your lives go on!
A repost updated a bit...what is this insanity?!
May 2018 · 421
Multi-Tasking
Mary-Eliz May 2018
two hands
ten fingers
but only one poor brain
to try to keep
them straight
and not go too insane
Mary-Eliz May 2018
She saw a flower, sensitive plant of my garden
She saw a flower, sensitive plant of my garden
it was the warmest, sunniest morning
it was the warmest, sunniest morning
Warmest of garden, it saw a flower in the morning
sensitive, she was my sunniest plant


The wind is blowing from west over the river
The wind is blowing from west over the river
The sky turns dark above the mountains
The sky turns dark above the mountains
The west wind turns, is blowing over the mountains
From the river above the dark sky


The city far away, the buildings tall
The city far away, the buildings tall
Disguise the green fields beyond the crowds
Disguise the green fields beyond the crowds
The tall fields, the green buildings
Disguise the crowds beyond the far away city                                  


The tall mountains, the fields, the sky above                              
saw a disguise of crowds over city buildings                                                        ­                
my morning, it was the sunniest beyond the west                                                             ­             
The green river she turns dark                                                             ­                               
The warmest wind is blowing from far away                      
Plant the sensitive flower in the garden
Paradelle: a form that was first presented by Billy Collins as an Old French form. He fessed up later that he had created the form. It is complicated but a good challenge!

When Collins first published the paradelle, it was with the footnote "The paradelle is one of the more demanding French fixed forms, first appearing in the langue d'oc love poetry of the eleventh century. It is a poem of four six-line stanzas in which the first and second lines, as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas, must be identical. The fifth and sixth lines, which traditionally resolve these stanzas, must use all the words from the preceding lines and only those words. Similarly, the final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas and only these words."
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