A little tattered
Broken

A little shaken
Shattered

A little scattered
Rattled  

But a little fixed
Mended

A little patched
Stitched

With gum and glue
Old and new
Needles and pins
Tonic and gin

Up and down
Round and round  

I soared
I dived
I survived

With hope
Though a little weary
With a smile
though part numb —
I wait
wondering what’s to come

Rhymed and metered
Or free as a waterfall
Abstract or lucid
Poetry - it’s loved by us all

Rich in images
Or to the point - blunt
Not so verbose
Or lined with puns

We have our own styles
Rambling or terse
Unique and different
Truly di -verse

Blossoms tucked in my hair
Stars in shining eyes 
I turn my face up to heaven 
I smile at raven skies 

Moonlight bathes a sleepy world 
There's moon dust on the skin 
Drenched in milk and cream 
Blooms are a happy pink 

Perhaps a wish I'll make this night 
On a sliver of fallen lashes 
Tonight is a night of magic blue 
Streaked with silver sashes 

I'll sit on clouds of violet 
Down they’ll come for me 
Hitch a ride to a silver star 
And be with the fairies 

The wind will run by my side 
Oh, she will hum a song 
With her I will fly high 
And wake a drowsy  dawn 

I'll run my fingers through the air 
For a rainbow I will crave 
From the dark grey rippling crested sea
I'll pull out a crescent wave

I'll go round stars that burn so bright 
Play fiddle with sterling beams 
Kiss a wish on a resting  brow
And sprinkle happy dreams 

I'll stop for breath on snow clad peaks
Breathe in their pearly glow
Tumble down a curving ***** 
And make angels in the snow

And then back on a  cloud of violet 
The  wind shall whistle her tune 
With dreams like lanterns in my eyes 
I'll be dancing with the moon

Tonight I'll spin on my toes  
Without a thought or care 
For I'll ride to a twinkling silver star 
With blossoms in my hair

I'm going to wrap a herd of
Kentucky Rainbows together.
I won't let them fly from
my arms like gauzed  gazelles.

The man who butchers
butterflies sold full ears to me.
He planted them when he
thought he was a heirloom.

These bushels of corn were
wrapped in rainbow when born.
Now if I go on vacation Im torn
because I need to plant soon

Now he wants to plant rotten
rose gardens in bloom.
He won't get married  in a
field of Kentucky  Rainbows.

I can't wait to pull kernals
of Rainbows like teeth.
I can plant them out side
my barn the size of an ark.

I sit by the door feeling
rich shucking my Rainbows.
I'll feel safe if I can plant rows
of corn able to resist a flood.

A year is going to die
but its memories will stay
in the times ahead.

The success, the failure, the try
will be there next day,
the worries to carry to bed.

But over all else
the love I got
will still warm my heart.

As certain as time sails
what can't be bought
will be life's special part.

Was I as generous in giving
for this special gift I received
was I as kind?

The question is haunting
though I tried indeed
my best wasn't good enough I find.

Forgive me where I failed
didn't shine in the light
you let me be in.

I promise to make amend
and keep it in sight
loving you more is all I mean.

Catch me a pheasant,
bring me fine wine,
make yourself pretty,
and together we'll dine.

Now that we are on in years,
celebrations change and dwindle
to little remnants of tradition.
We are two stragglers
from life’s journey,
Left behind by the young,
No longer nurturing him,
yet tied to his well-being
even as we wait for his call.
I celebrate Yule not in our home,
but by imaging his joy beside a tree,
his exchange of gifts with her.
And I recall the first Christmas
with my husband, falling asleep together
under a mammoth tree filled with light.
We made ornaments for fun
and poverty didn’t matter.
I wrote a poem for him,
decorated with scenes of our life.
And now, we are too weary
to celebrate like that.
It is as if we pore through a box,
a ragged thing, dragged through time,
looking for souvenirs of joy
and memories of the life we had
when he was here.