Okay. So I write almost everyday. I don’t see that as a bad thing.
If you look at it through my eyes this is what you get.

With each day comes a new challenge a new emotion a new situation.

So with each day that I am blessed to have. I’m gonna share my thoughts and feelings because when I don’t have anymore days.

This is what people will look back on. This is what my legacy will be.

                               With love,
                                     Anonymous
artful creations

colors, charcoals

paints

stone and clay

wood and paper

bringing life
from
lifeless

form
from
formless

can the artist choose?
~~~
garden creations

shades of green

jade
artichoke
asparagus

fern, forest
and
jungle

mint, moss
and
pine

shamrock
tea, olive

mixed
with
a multitude
of blooming
hues

can the gardener decide on one?
~~~
kitchen creations

sweets and treats

savories and piquants

cakes and pies

meats, stews
casseroles

butter, garlic
lemon

rosemary
and
thyme

parsley
and
saffron

onions caramelized
to sweet

peppercorns
and
cardamon

tamarind, turmeric
nutmeg

combined in
precision
joy and
love

can the chef say which is best?
~~~

and thus
I challenge any poet

can you choose your favorite "child"?
I made myself hungry in that one part!
The fence blew down,
I let it lie,
until a better day.

Two days ago
Neighbour said hi,
complained
about the prone
piece of sh-pickets.

Well, I was out there
like a shot,
gave it all I've got,
set that fence back up
on the spot.
(with just a few props)

Neighbour appeased,
I was pleased
til today,
when a storm blew
through, yes it's true.

Fence is prone,
wind blown...
think I'll let it lay
until a better day.
Lie or lay? Fowler's says lay is rustic (illiterate). Think I'll go with that. Just another day in prosody.
The world is too much with us,
and then, not enough.

Everyone wants it smooth,
to be just in the groove.
To win, and never lose.
To have the life we choose.
To never sing the blues.

Tapping to the rhythm
of the dance,
As we go about our heedless ways.

The world is too much with us,
and then, not enough.
Day 7 tricks, William Wordsworth I am not! But I accidentally stole the first line from his Sonnet, not sure if it will fly, oh me oh my, perhaps I'll die!
Thank you Dylan Thomas for your heedless ways.
April 1 prompt a day Secret poem



Was the bookworm introvert type at school
Became a language nerd Basque Latin Greek German
Never, in the flesh, loved a woman
A friend passed away and with him our first caress
Will always be refreshed by the ocean’s recess  
A newborn baby battle incubator but before dad a fool.

Get drunk while traveling on the beauty of miles
But never once got plastered in a bar
Consigned all my secrets to various files
With words my passport, I walked alone and far
Left a piece of my smile on Californian soil
I follow the track of friends squirrels, my foil.

Long lost sea poet always hoping new sun
Never depressed or repressed yet not blessed
Clearly narcissistic but fight to survive, run
Helping people on my way but they know best
Learned to stand the pain, turned it into power
A scorpion at heart, yet afraid of fire.
Thanks to my friend John Maloney who introduced me to Robert Lee Brewer's literary blog, I can announce I've written the first poem according to this blogger's prompt.
http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides
I'm late, it's already begun. I'm catching up. 3 more to write to be on schedule.
My dog Dora
had such an aura,
though she's been gone 14 yrs
I can still see her greeting me
with a batting of the eyes
that said,

"I'm with you, how
'bout walking me home
".

My dog Dora
was stubbornly sly
smile sweet as pie
pulling strings to my soul
pulling me when we'd stroll.

Dora  senora
the shepherd
husky cross
my boss.

My dog Dora
a gift of fluff and bone
loved outside to roam
bedded in the porch zone.

Dinner at six!
sealed with a kiss.
always willing to please
for a cookie and a squeeze.

We met quite accidentally
And coincidentally
she took me home.
Dear Dora.
Dear reader, it's one a day for the month of April. What could possibly go wrong?
I paced
the
race,
three days
I lasted,
without
totally
losing
face,
or quitting
in disgrace.
But at day four
I am on bended knee
to thee,
Oh
Poetry!
the door to metonymy is locked and I don't have the key.
Candle light vigil,
words parachute onto paper
many smiles away.
"it's only words, but words are all I have..." BeeGees
A new hatch is born,
chirping babies wait, worry
Mom is on the fly.
birds nesting in the roof above my bed.
Dread the uncertain..
Beware the unknown.
Fear the disorder...
Think you must face it alone.

At 4 in the morning
It seems a hopeless mess
Like the whole world’s in flames -
And to solve it’s your test.

With all these pieces askew
Focus on the the hard part.
When you’re unsure just what to do -
Simply figure out where to start!
Sometime you have to psych yourself up when you know the next day is going to be a challenge that you aren’t quite sure yet how to handle.  Especially after a long weekend!
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