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Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
During my second trimester I felt like getting some fresh air.
I went out cycling through town in the warm sunny day.
Observing the comings and goings of people all around.
The flower cart on the corner, lent a lovely lilac scent to the air.
The street preacher was shouting out his testimonials,
trying to recruit believers to his cause.
Further on as my pedaling took me, I saw a group of boys.
They were pantomiming their favorite rockstars.
Strumming the air for all they were worth and
Jamming to the silent music in their heads.
Down the block past the Bakery, smelling of cinnamon buns,
was the museum.  My favorite place to stroll on a quiet day.
The gregarious doorman always wished me "A fine  day, Madam!",
as he ushered me into the foyer. He always wore that silly hat that makes me smile.  
And, of course, he kept an eye on my red bicycle by the door.
Making my way through the corridors, observing the sculptures, paintings and artifacts.
Wondering at the archaeologists dinosaur finds, mounted above and behind the glass.
Finally, on to see Pandora and her ill-fated decision to open the box.  
Letting forth into the world all manner of toxicity.  And then, again, opening the box
she set Hope free so we could cope in this danger-laden world.  
Ending my museum tour, I contemplated my coming child
and what he would find to make him cry or hope or love
in this world, as I slowly pedaled through the spring infused day.
Charming Fun and Fanciful.
Pantomime. Bicycle. Museum. Trimester.
Pandora. Gregarious. Toxicity.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Eyes of brown
Heart of gold
Sending love
I've been told.

Across the waves
between the vibes.
Written on paper
by the scribes.

Affairs of love in
history gone by.
Lover's seduced
by blink of eye.

Romeo and Juliet.
Cleopatra's Antony.
Guinevere and Lancelot.
And no less, you and me.

Loved and lusted
Sweet as wine.
Stories told
throughout time.

Love goes on
and on my dear.
Open your heart,
put away fear.

For love's soft vision
may well come.
When unsuspected,
heart strings thrum.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
Eyes of brown
Heart of gold
Sending love
I've been told.

Across the waves
between the vibes.
Written on paper
by the scribes.

Affairs of love in
history gone by.
Lover's seduced
by blink of eye.

Romeo and Juliet.
Cleopatra's Antony.
Guinevere and Lancelot.
And no less, you and me.

Loved and lusted
Sweet as wine.
Stories told
throughout time.

Love goes on
and on my dear.
Open your heart,
put away fear.

For love's soft vision
may well come.
When unsuspected,
your heart will thrum.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
A flurry of furry freaks

Rambunctiously ransacked

Garish Gary's garage.

And for the trouble they caused,

Garish Gary garotted

them, one and all.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Searing flames ignite a volcanic
     inferno of need.

Sanguine licks of fire
     consume tempermental flesh.

Fierce, sizzling desire bows
     to wanton pleasure.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Dragon slain,
Vile creature,
Pillaging our home.

Family lying dead
Torn to ****** shreds
In the rubble of destruction.

Senseless slaughter,
Unreasoning winged monster,
Murdering and razing.

Vengeance has been mine.
Hunted down, to its bower,
Slain without mercy.

As it has shown none,
So have I.
Vengeance sought and found.

Exhaustion, grief, pain,
Now mine,
Tell me I have lived this horror.

But going on?
Inconceivable,
Grief unreliquished.

Sinking to my knees,
Praying to that God,
Begging final peace.

No answer given.
Only the quiet sound,
Of one spared.

Calling for help,
Beneath debris,
Safely sheltered.

Tis my own,
My child,
My reason.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Natural decline, bringing about an age of being fallible,
The subtle shift from youth to middle age to being an elder,
Now using motion in economy, to prevent instability.
The vagaries of age, reducing confidence to hesitance,
as a step forward is an accomplishment once beneath notice.
Many rarely notice the shift in abilities of those close to them,
until sudden traumas occur, bringing them harshly to light.
But those living them daily, have learned to compensate as they can.
Either abhorring the day before them or embracing it as a challenge.
I pray as I move close to this eventuallity, that I see the challenge,
the possibilities for growth and learning in the subtleties of aging.
For Can you spare a Word or 5?
Instability, Decline, Economy, Fallible, Subtle.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Wisps of arctic
essence circulate in
the atmosphere of being.

Translucent whims
waft among the humid
rushes of desire.

And tremble at
the musical notes
of fulfillment.
For Creative Poetry Group at WritersCafe 7.23.11 Extra Challenge Words: Atmosphere. Circulate. Translucent. Waft. Arctic. Humid. Musical. Wisp.
Judy Ponceby Nov 2011
Crusty *****
           scuttle through
                        the tide pools.

Fish dart among
                 undulating
                         sea-**** forests.

Salted breezes
             push waves
                       on to shore.

Seagulls
         surf the ocean
                           rhythm.

Tides rise and fall.
                 Waves roll in.
                               Peace abides.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Ancient wise and fearsome, Dragons grab the mind.
Rend the soul. Open your eyes to the delights of gold.*


Reaching forth with one glistening claw,
scraping the earth in a foot deep furrow,
It opens an eye to gaze upon the foolish
who seek its treasure.
And seeing before it a young boy,
gazing in awe, total amazement,
smirks in silent humor.

Puffing out a wisp of smoke,
enamoring the boy even further,
it slowly stretches wide its winges,
making shelter from the icy weather,
for this fearless child of Man.

The gold tinted, rustling scales,
shake the child from his reverie,
and gazing into the creatures eye
He asks in a timid shaky voice,
Mighty one, can you spare a coin?

Staring sharply, at this young sapling of a boy,
daring to request such a heavy toll,
from one such as he.  
The Ancient One, with eye whirling,
reaches under his massive belly and extracts a pence.

And to the boy, breathes "for a price childe, you may have such as this"
The emaciated filthy boy, looks hopefully up at the dragon,
wondering what a price would be for this pence.
And, yet knows that he has no choice but to pay.

For at home, his family suffers terribly from the poverty
brought on by invading tribes from the farlands.
Food taken, cattle slaughtered, family treasures destroyed.
Like so many others, suffering under this retribution,
desparate for the basic neccesities of life.

And from this suffering, born in this young boy,
Courage enough to approach the Ancient One for assistance.
And, so he steps forward, shaking, and bowing his head, asks,
"What price do you require, Ancient One?"

Rumbling deeply in its chest, the dragon considers,
this lowly life form, its obvious need and desparation,
commands, "Return tomorrow, with a robin's egg
and you shall have this pence."
And, closing its eyes, lowering its wings, became still as stone.

And so, hope sprung forth in the young lad's heart,
as he raced to share the news with his family.
That such a treasure should be within his grasp for such a simple request.
And, so begins the story of mentor and student.
With hope for a better future for family and friend.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
Close your eyes.

Immerse yourself
in
the sensuous treasure
of
a rose.

Sweet scented
seduction.

Soft, fragile petal
grazing your cheek.

Find yourself
enamored
of cool
dew
that slipped
the trenches
of a nimbus cloud and
settled on this
speck of
earth-bound beauty
inspiring
procreative
urges.
For Creative Poetry at Writer's Cafe.

Words 10/3:  Trenches.  Immerse.  Nimbus.  Speck.  Procreative.  Enamored.  
Treasure.  Rose.  Petal.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
A symphony

felt in

vibrations

that make eardrums

thrum

in pleasurable

synchronicity.
inspired at oneword.com in their one minute challenge. really focuses the mind when you only have one minute :D
Judy Ponceby Mar 2011
So miss the old HP.  This is SOOO difficult to navigate.  How many days has it been and I'm still lost, and its not like I'm not computer literate.  I think the improver got lost in the details and forgot to look at the overall picture, the designer knows what it means to click on something and get the expected change, why if this must happen is there not a help area or a navigation document or something???  So very frustrating I can't concentrate on what I loved to do.  How sad.  I haven't been able to write anything new since these changes because this is where I was comfortable writing, right on this site.  :(  Very unhappy to see many new found friends leaving as well. I posted something I wrote 6 months ago just to see how it would work, but nothing new....sighhhhhhhh.
Judy Ponceby Jun 2011
Hammer hard
Fire bright.
Pounding metal
With all my might.

Orange gleaming ore
Glowing craft.
Shaped by hand
Quenched by draught.

Hell's own heat
Makes air singe.
Burning embers
On fiery fringe.

Muscles ache
To the bone.
Making old
Bellows moan.

Shaped with pride
Of hardened steel.
Hone the blade
to razor feel.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Sitting there yesterday at the football game,
Watching my son tackling the quarterback,
Feeling the warm sun and watching him earn respect,
From his teammates, made my heart proud.

Looking around, I saw the cheerleaders, 11 yrs old, too.
Yelling and flipping and shouting.
Then from nowhere, "My glitter is sweating off!"
Makes me laugh outloud.  

Little kids running everywhere,
Parents watching their kids, visiting,
It was a great scene!

Until I looked down in this sneezing little boys face,
And watched him scoop up some boogers
and have a snack.

Looking back I suppose it is only to be expected
as part of the scenery, and I can laugh now.
Just as watching the cheerleaders commenting,
And the poor kid who pulled a groin muscle,
Hobble off the field, is part of the scene.

All in all, a beautiful day, fun, family, and reality all at once.
Can you spare a word or 5?
tackle, earn, boogers, groin, sneezing
Judy Ponceby Sep 2010
Seasons changing, autumn's coming.

The birds, I see them flocking,
Readying for the long migration.

The locusts, whirring, in the trees,
leaving behind their shells, to mark their passing.

Colors brewing in the leaves, yellows, reds, oranges,
Awaiting the cool nights to brighten them.

Leaves twirling down from the limbs,
Spinning, blowing on the breezes.

Snapping twigs, crunching leaves,
Scattering before bright boots kicking them.

Crunchy apples, warmed cider, chili on the stove.
These are the things I love of autumn.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
Tumbling, twirling
leaves en masse.
Seasons arrive
and then will pass.

Brilliant hues
Of orange and red
Scatter across
Warm Summer's bed.

So brief the fall
in its passing.
Cool crisp air,
vibrant leaves flashing.

Soon, too soon
The colors fade
And bitter Winter
spreads its shade.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Be thee privy
to the cascading
whispers of the
tides continuous?

To the tranquil
bubbling and splashing
of light, translucent
fluid?

Saturated in the
unpredictable motion
of the flowing
river of a mind
wandering.
Judy Ponceby Nov 2010
Skipping through the forest,
Laughing with delight,
Glimpsing my sweetheart,
Off to the right.

Sneaking up closely,
Taking a peek.
Watching him moving,
I do not speak.

Silently climbing,
Up and out on a limb.
Taking some acorns,
And grinning down on him.

Watching him move,
unaware of my perch.
Thinking how funny,
He's going to lurch.

Taking careful aim,
Then glancing about,
I whack him on the head,
And he gives a shout.

Laughing, and swinging,
Out on a limb.
Hanging upside down,
And grinning at him.

First he was scowling,
Looking quite mad.
Now he is smiling,
And, boy, am I glad.

Still hanging there,
My knees over the limb,
He approaches me slowly,
And I get a kiss from him.

His hands on my face,
His heart in his eyes.
Kissing so sweetly,
With fun undisguised.

Slipping from my perch,
I settle in his arms.
Feeling so safe,
Loving his charms.

Not a thing could be better,
than being this close.
with his heart to my heart
his nose to my nose
Judy Ponceby Mar 2012
Though I walk in silence
I fear not the darkness surrounding me.

The lantern that swings at my side
Guides me through the twisted paths.

I seek only the present
its fulfillment in whole, not past nor future.

Only the forward motion of the lantern
leading me through this moment, then the next.

Its pendulum swing an eternal guide
as it lights the way for my next footfall.

Leaving behind the imprint of
my last step in the darkness.

Seek only now. Know only now.
Live and breathe this moment completely.

It is the essence of life as we move along its path.
Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
Mitochondria generating the necessary energy
to graze my fingertips across your zygomatic arch.
Feeling your breath quicken to almost hyperventilation
as desire fills your eyes.  Blood pounding through your heart
containing red cells, white cells, fibrin, plasma, life-giving oxygen.
I brush hair behind your ear and feel a quadrigeminal leap
in the need to hold you close.
Mitochondria.  Zygomatic Arch.  Hyperventilation.  Fibrin.  Quadrigeminal.
For Charming and Fun.
Judy Ponceby Dec 2011
Winter teeth bite
deep and harsh.

Snow does fly,
and ice imprisons.

Chill the bones
to brittle ache.

Hibernation
has its season.

Branches spike
the low hung clouds.

Hunters hunger
on hidden trail.

Skittish prey plays
hide, don't die.

Life is sparse
during Winter's reign.
Judy Ponceby Apr 2014
blackjack
a cat in fact
travels far and wide.

he cries and cries
for years it seems
following the tides.

he wanders
near and wanders far
searching for his pride.

sets up shop
on our step
and in our hearts abide.

he stays a day
maybe two
then hits the road astride.

where he wanders
we know not
we just enjoy the ride.
To our Nomad Friend  Blackjack.  A superb specimen of catliness.
Judy Ponceby Aug 2010
Early morning comes too soon.
Fish are biting by the moon.
Father and son make their way
Out of the house to meet the day.

The men of the house are outward bound
Seeking their fortune on the water sound.
Fishing poles and tackle boxes in hand
Off they go, to the dock to be manned.

Eyes gleaming bright, with the wind in his hair,
My son grins wide, and says, "Dad, Look There!"
Sure enough my son sees, fish to be caught,
Their trip is promising, will not be for naught.

His father smiles at the look from his son,
Saying, "Yes, son, you've found them, quite well done."
Bringing their boat to a stop they let glide,
Unpack their equiment, and come along side.

Taking their time and setting their hooks,
Plenty of fish here, judging by the looks.
There's sunfish and carp, some salmon and trout,
Walleye and crappie, and catfish so stout.

As the sun rises higher, they reel those fish in.
There's plenty of fish, with tail and fin.
The father and son are laughing together.
Can't believe their luck, or such perfect weather.

Returning home from a long day of fun,
They unload their catch and in they run.
Fish stories abound, They can't say enough,
The fish they missed, get bigger and rough.

I watch my two men, with quiet delight.
Enjoying the warmth, they create in my sight
Fishing is fun, fishing is great,
My men bonding, makes my heart elate.
Judy Ponceby Dec 2010
A bushel of love is a lot of love,
to hold in your heart for someone.
And since your heart can't hold it all,
it spills out and touches those you hold close.

Amazing thing about love,
as a friend once said to me.
You can't hold on to it,
and the more you give, the more you receive.

It's a funny thing this love,
builds tolerance where there is hate,
builds laughter where there is anger,
builds joy where there is fear.

I wonder how many need more love,
how many starve for it.
I wonder what the tiniest bit of it
could make happen for a lonely person.

A tiny bit isn't a bushel, you know.
But given away it will overflow another bushel.  
Bringing light, happiness, peace, and joy,
just from something, you can't hold onto.
A lesson learned from a very dear friend.
Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
Daffodils and daisies.
And summer days so hazy.

Roses and posies.
Making bees all crazy.

Peonies and violets.
Sunning and all lazy.

Bleeding hearts and trumpet flowers.
Spring time gone a-blazey.
Yes, the snow is melting, the birds are flying
And, I'm getting a little stir-cray.
After all who would make up a word like blazey
Unless mentally unbalanced???  :) LOL
Judy Ponceby Jan 2011
Lovely chocolate icing,
in sensuous swirls.

Covering velvety,
tantalizing heaven.

Smelling of that warm,
soulful chocolate.

Slightly warm
and still gooey.

Served up with
a cold crisp glass of milk.  

Mmmmmmm. :)
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Act I

Slowly awareness returns,  eyes flickering open.
Where am I?
What has happened?

"Doctor, the patient is waking."

Who was that?
What is this? I can't move my arms?
Panic rising....

"Doctor, he's stirring......"

Eyes opening wide, taking in the sterile environment.
The shadowy face leaning over me....

Then,
looking down,
I see...........

"Unholy Hell, WHY am I wearing a CHICKEN Suit???
with AZZLESS chaps???"

Collapsing back onto this white starched bed,
Slowly bits of memory stitch themselves together....
Remembering vaguely walking by the transvestite bar....



Act II

"So, dude, I was walking by this transvestite bar the other night.  And next thing you know I'm waking up in a hospital."

"No, now listen, I woke up wearing a chicken suit, you know bright yellow fluffy feathers, orange beak, red comb.  And, you will NOT believe this.  I was wearing a pair of Azzless Chaps!"

"I know!  Memories a bit foggy yet.  Can't understand how that happened.  I was on my way to see my girlfriend.......  Where this chicken suit came from, I haven't figured out yet.  Man, I'm glad my mom didn't see me in those Azzless Chaps!  She doesn't know I have that tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on my ***."

"Wow, if only I could....................OH, Oh, oh nooooo............was that my dad in the audience??  ***! There was an audience!!"

"Dude, I have to go.  I'm not feeling very well."



Overheard as he wandered away, "Wow, what was dad doing in a transvestite bar..........?"



Act III



"John, do you know what I found in our son's hamper?  They were just stuffed in there.  There's a pair of pants, John, with the backside cut out.  Never seen anything like it, and something bright yellow and feathery, John.  No idea what it could be."

"John........
John........Are you listening to me?"


Our friend, John, has gone three shades of green.  Finally, mustering some strength, he asks, "Helen, could that feather thing be....be.... a chicken suit?"

"Why, John, I think it is!  It's not even Halloween yet.  What is that boy thinking?  John, do you suppose that he will ever graduate from college and strike out on his own??"  Helen continues muttering as she walks away, John catching only intermittent words regarding the pants with the missing backside.

As we watch, John looks about, and nonchalantly pushes a pair of sparkling purple heels, and an interesting pair of lace lavendar underwear deeper under his lazy boy........



Act IV**



At the Transvestite Bar, aka A Lark for the Queens, we watch some of our friends sitting around the smoke filled room, enjoying the atmosphere, and having a few drinks.

"Harrietta, did u catch that performance the other night?  It was inspiring."

"That new guy sure put on a show, after we loosened him up a bit.", said Frank, adjusting his pearls, while touching up his lip gloss.  

"Wonder who he is, I wanted to ask him where he got that fantastic tat, Marilyn is my idol!"

The fellas sip their drinks, reminiscing.........

Suddenly, a flash of purple sequins attracts Frank's attention.

"John!, Come on over. We were just discussing that new guy in our recital last week!"

Our friend John, glides over on glittering purple heels, pulls up a chair and shifts his flowing gown so he can properly seat himself.

"Well, I don't think he was all that good fellas.  Glory, bring me a spritzer, will ya."  The discomfort in John's face, almost tragic.

As our fine troupe of men continue to sip their beverages, we glance over and see our Monroe tattooed actor, timidly glancing in the door......
Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
Hopscotch

Girlfriends running, twirling, too.
Taking turns out in the sun.
Skip and hop across the board.
Leap over the marked one.


Twister.

Red right foot,
Bodies blend.
Green left hand
Twist and bend
Blue left foot,
Over extend.
Yellow right hand
In a body pile, again.


Chess

Pawns in play,
Knights abound.
King in check,
Queens around.
Pieces falling one by one
Check and Mate is the sound.


Tag

Tag! You're It.
Running wild.
Laughing, screaming,
Swift little child.


Jumprope

Rope atwirling overhead.
Jump when its under.
Singsong chanting
Sounds like thunder.


Checkers

Red men, Black men.
Jump on a diagonal.
King me, king me
Gonna jump a handful


Kick the Can

Running down the street.
Kicking that can.
Swarm of kiddies
Chasing past the man.
Hopscotch. Twister. Chess. Tag.
Checkers. Kick the Can. Jumprope.
Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
The sensuous pressure of a diamond necklace
Being slipped around her neck sent tremors down her spine.
The finest jewels gracing the lovely piece
with the brightest clarity and sparkle.
Simplicity itself shining forth,
glowing from body heated precious metal.
Looking up into his eyes she sees the consternation there
as he realizes that she outshines even this in his eyes.
Pressure. Necklace. Finest. Simplicity. Consternation. Sparkle. Tremor.
Charming Fun and Fanciful.
Judy Ponceby Jul 2012
C'mere, babe.
Let me wipe those tears away
and still that trembling lip.
Let me wrap these arms around you
and calm your quaking heart
Let me look into your eyes
and steady your uncertainty.

C'mere, babe.
Let me show you what it means
to be seen.
Let me show you what it means
to be heard.
Let me show you what it means
to be touched.

C'mere babe.
Let me teach you to laugh again
Let me teach you to sing again
Let me teach you to dance again.

C'mere babe.

Look at me.

Laugh with me.

Love me.......
Judy Ponceby Dec 2011
I discovered a star
shiny and bright.
It burned from within
with glorious light.

I watched as it flared
bright orange then red.
It burst from my hand
and as it fled,

It sparkled and shone,
flying away with a trail
That left me in wonder
as I watched it set sail.

On beyond Saturn
and out past Neptune,
seeking its fortune
its flown too soon.

Silently sailing vast
light years away
Inspiring adventure
in every way.
Judy Ponceby Jul 2015
Planets align
Don't malign

Elliptical simplicity
With rhetorical duplicity

Minds engage
While hearts do rage

Beyond the sources
Of controllable forces

Span the continuum
In search of equilibrium.

The Lost are found
Yet questions abound
5 poems in 5 days Challenge, Nominated by Rene Velez
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Hippos in crates
On rollerskates
Crashing through
the rickety gates.

Crashing and bashing.
Oooooooooooh, how Smashing!
Rolling about
Their teeth a-flashing!

Running amuck!
Watch out for the duck.
Open the doors!
Back up the truck!

Zipping up the ramp
Like any old champ.
There they go!
Don't forget the stamp.

Crates in the mail!
Delivered without fail.
Those Hippos on skates
Lurching down the trail.
For Charming, Fun and Fanciful.
Judy Ponceby Aug 2013
crows in threes
beneath the boughs,
bow low to thee
my lady.
Judy Ponceby Jul 2015
Wizardly wisps of
waspy mists
mingle and tingle
amongst the twists
of gnarly ropes and
knurlish boughs
flung amidst the
whys and hows.
Day 3 of the 5 Day Challenge
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Dead.
Ingloriously, unceremoniously dead.
Nothing special.
Just dead.

That one of billions.
Poor bug.
Smashed all over the wall.
Guts flattened.
Bits broken.

No one to care.
Other than the cleaning lady.
When she's done.
No evidence the reaper has been.
Judy Ponceby Nov 2011
Wildly reeling in the arms of Death.
Moving to the pounding rhythm.
Eyes closed against his emaciated visage.
Heart thudding beat for beat.

Death seeks the living tonight.
Her heart's rhythm aches in his bones.
Her vitality bruises his being.
Her zeal, a wound to his bravado.

And though Death dances
wantonly and with desire,
Warmth and Love
eternally elude him.
Inspired by this photo.....http://pinterest.com/pin/326646445/
Judy Ponceby Oct 2011
Intertwining boughs
Arch high above
Shading this desolate road.
I walk a solitary path.
Roaming lost in thought
Unaware of the deepening night
Beneath these shadowy limbs.

Owls wake slowly as dusk passes to night.
Wolves catch the scent of prey on the wind.
Whispering hollowly through the trees it
Shares the news of fell deeds done this night

And I alone on this long and lonely road
Feel the danger present in every direction.

Yet, so lost in thought am I,
Unaware of approaching predators.
Until a deep sense of dread
permeates my very soul.

I hear pounding hooves on packed soil
and hurl myself into the clutches of the trees.
I listen as the ******* who would have my head
Continue their flight from the horrid deeds they perpetrated.

Lost and frightened, I stay as I fell,
then exhausted, I sleep,
covered by the brush that clawed at my clothing,
Only to wake in my love's strong arms
As his tears rain upon me at the sweet break of dawn.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
In the depths of night, long past midnight,
when shadows come out to play.

Spirits moan about the loss of their corporeal bodies,
sounding lost and hollow in their deprivation.

Nightmares with their heaving flanks,
ebony coats glistening, spread their dark visions.

And I, unable to find peace in the arms of sweet sleep,
lie with eyes open,
watching the haunted dance of shadows at the window.
For Can you Spare a Word or 5?
Ebony. Spirits.  Midnight.  Deprivation.  Nightmares.
Judy Ponceby Jan 2011
There once was a crazy nurse,
She drove around driving a hearse,
Whenever she hit a victim,
She would cry out "Admit 'em!"
The prognoses couldn't have been worse.
My first limerick ever!  A bit morbid I must say.  Insomnia does strange things to the mind....
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Hate what i see.
Nothing looks right.
Hate being a woman.
Hate seeing this sight.

Not worth a look.
Not worth a care.
Just getting by.
Wondering why I dare.

Doubting myself.
My external shell.
Big feet, and glasses.
Wow, how swell.

And that's not the worst,
I have to say.
Why bother asking,
My *** is in the way.

Turning off the feelings.
Hiding the care.
Shutting out the light.
Sorry I thought to dare.

Just doing what I must.
To make things right.
Going through the motions.
Without any fight.

Closing the door.
Not looking back.
Just keep working hard.
Keep the finances on track.

Wash the dishes,
Don't forget the dust.
Who gives a ****.
Doing what I must.

Done with smiling.
Done with lust.
Done with trying.
Just doing what I must.
Judy Ponceby Feb 2011
Hmmmmmmmmm....
She thought to herself.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
The bee worried the flower.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
Snored the man in the chair.

Ssssshhhhhhhhhhh....
The librarian shrieked.

Mmmmmmmmmm.....
Heard during a long kiss.

Ooooooooooooh.....
Surprised by unexpected gifts.

Uuuummmm..........
Unsure of the right words.

..............................
Silence also speaks volumes.
Judy Ponceby Jan 2011
Doctor, Doctor, did u hear?
There's a new infection coming near.

It starts with a flush and then a blush,
Then gets down right scaly in a rush.

It's nothing other than the dreaded disease,
It's called Dragon ****, if you please.

First you're numb
About the bumb.

Then you itch!
What a *****.

Then out grows the scales,
Watch out for the tails!

Just heed this warning, secretaries out there,
Dragon **** can catch you unaware.

Look out for the numbness, the itching, the scales.
Avoid the dryness, the burning, and flails.

There's nothing worse to work all day,
Draggin' ****, is no way to play.
For a spectacular secretary who asked to remain nameless
You know who you are, Darnit   :D
Judy Ponceby Feb 2012
slipping silently into your arms
i look up into your warm eyes
and see heaven in them.

my eyes slide lower to those
warm soft lips that ask
softly to be kissed, to be
gently plundered of wet treasure.

i inhale as your warm hands lay
bare upon my arms and pull me into you.

my naked face tipped upwards
longing for your lips to slide
over mine, gently caressing the
curves of my mouth.

my breath warms your skin where
i breathe shallowly and quickly
in anticipation of fulfilling your needs

of fulfilling mine.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
Sitting in this dusty old attic
listening to the shingles flapping in the wind
I flip through a dog-eared book from my childhood.

As I skip through the pages,
I look up and notice the fine inlaid
carpentry work of an old chest.

Going over, leaving prints on the dusty floor,
I lift the lid.  With reptilian slowness
a lazy fat spider edges away.

Inside this trove of ancient treasure,
magnificent finds of days gone by.
Mementos of a honeymoon, a parachute jump.
Gramma's best biscuit recipe.  A photo of
Sam the hound with spittle running down his jowls.
A picture of a babe at his mother's ******.

A permutation of these tucked away articles
give meaning to a life well and truly lived.  
Closing the pages of these treasures I
wander away to watch my grandchildren
make memories of their own.
Word Bricks from my friend Frank: Parachute. Dog-eared. Permutation.
******. Shingles. Honeymoon. Reptilian. Biscuit. Carpentry.
Judy Ponceby Jan 2011
Celestial characters play across the bedroom ceiling
as the fire's last flickering coals lay dying in the ash.
I lie here, drowsy, covered with the quilted blanket.
The alarm having gone off an hour ago.
I remain huddled in the warmth of the bed
the cold air sharp against my face.
Dreading the launch from warm solace
to the biting cold of reality.
Wondering who in their right mind
decided wood burning heat was
a good idea?
Being ardently opposed to the use
of gas and oil I can only blame myself.
Deciding the trouble isn't worth it
to climb from this fortress of bliss,
I pull the quilt closer and close my eyes.
Then the telephone, ringing, ringing, ringing.
I wonder how many times it will ring until they give up.
Six, seven, ten times.  
I really must get an answering machine someday.
Or maybe not, as I smile to myself and sink
further into my feather tick mattress,
putting off the day for as long as possible.
Charming Fun and Faniciful
Early. Ardent. Warmth. Quilted. Drowsy. Telephone. Celestial.
Judy Ponceby Jan 2012
Tabla beat
hear the rhythm.

Triumphant
rise unto heav'n.

Abandon all
the nano-cares.

Freedom sought
found and shared.
For Creative Poetry at Writers Cafe.
Words provided:  Tabla.  Triumphant.  Abandon.  Nano.  Freedom.
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Sitting quietly at the table, held in place by rusted shackles,
Embracing my bone-like phalanges in death's grip.
At the fringes of my vision, I note a horrid little creature,
Attempting to circumvent the Master's desire to flay me to pieces.
Begging for my life, as he fears dark aloneness in this drear abode.
The septum wall of my heart barely containing my blood,
As it pounds through its chambers, racing to my extremities, only to return once more,
more slowly, to be reinvigorated with vital oxygen again.
Eyes glazing as the Master approaches, demanding why I should be spared,
When I have disobeyed him, sparing that family from death's harsh embrace.
Shaking in this stone cold chair, my posterior aching from hours of discomfort,
I can only beg mercy of a merciless creature, who's only need of me, is absolute obeyance.
My only ability to coax unsuspecting families to relinquish their souls for this foul creatures pleasure.
My heart recognizing how low I have become to continue with this wretched life.
And, finally with the only spark of humanity remaining to me, I scream my defiance,
And as I had hoped, received a final blow, releasing me from this plane.
For Can you spare a Word or 5?
Septum, Circumvent, Phalanges, Fringes, Posterior
Judy Ponceby Jan 2011
Extra! Extra! Read All About It !!

Recent Icelandic Sledding accident.

A mountain of Vanilla pudding was mistaken for
the Olympic Sledding Hill.

Professional sledders lined up, leaped on their sleds,
and found themselves floundering in pudding.

The mayhem was only multiplied by swarms
of wild parrots, squawking at sledders as they
thrashed about attempting to dislodge themselves
from the pit of pudding swallowing them whole.  

Survivors were taken to Pud'N'Pie Clinic,
for treatment of acute pudding suffocation,
and treated with chocolate syrup and whip cream.
For Charming, Fun and Fanciful.
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