Thursday, March 9, 2017

Odd Number








Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. ~John Betjeman





I may be a word person a poet of sorts, but as a child I had a weird relationship with numbers.
As I learned them in the start of schooling, I gave them genders.
  Let me introduce you to my friends:

1. He is a boy
2. She is a girl
3 She is a girl
4 He is a boy
5 She is a girl
6 She is a girl
7 He is a boy
8 She is a girl
9 He is a boy
10 He is a boy

So I guess you realize now, that I am a crazy loon that should probably be locked up in the Loony Ben!  That being said, here is my contribution to today's prompt at Imaginary Gardens.
Today's theme is: Synesthesia

If I decided to date it would be the number 8
she is a symmetrical beauty and
of course she has all the right curves

If I were to marry it would be the number 2
she is never fickle and the perfect number to serve

If I should choose to go camping
my trail hiking companion
choice would be number 9
he is hardy and a little reckless but in spandex
he sure looks fine

If I ever enter a beauty contest I want my judge to be number 10
he is always a good judge of character and his score always means
 you win!





















Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Broken






Linking with Imaginary Gardens for The Tuesday Platform.  Take a look and join us!


[A] final comfort that is small, but not cold:  The heart is the only broken instrument that works.  ~T.E. Kalem




Some things when they fall they shatter and seem beyond repair
while others seem to brace the fall but invisibly they are impaired
a heart can see another's fall and then itself break in two
but tears like glistening diamonds will fall and make it new
God bless the heart that is broken for another's pain it has truly felt and seen
but God help the heart that will not break for it is surely broken indeed.

Friday, April 29, 2016

The Glory in Grace














"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it."
~Helen Keller

Thursday, April 14, 2016

MIdnight In the Kitchen of Good and Evil

Art by Jacek Yerka
Mind Fields- "Between Heaven and Hell"


Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "In Other Words" posted by Kerry 

The idea of this challenge is to substitute words of our own into the well-known titles of novels or movies.  My title is: Midnight in the Kitchen of Good and Evil....then write a poem to follow it.

Thou shouldst eat to live, not live to eat. ~Cicero


It is midnight and I have opened the fridge in search of something more to eat.
but I don't want an apple or carrots...what I WANT is something SWEET!
Don't make me eat a veggie salad, or low fat turkey on rye.
Let me have a desert with ice cream and apple pie!
I probably am not truly hungry, I just always want more in my gut!
If my stomach was a woman, it would be no lady but an evil slut.
I had breakfast lunch and dinner...heck I even had a snack, 
but I still want something later that is tasty, and full of fat!



I am not a glutton — I am an explorer of food. ~Erma Bombeck




Thursday, March 31, 2016

This Used To Be My Playground....

 
Linking with Poet's United for the Mid Week Motif~ The Nineties posted by Susan
 
It may seem shallow, but one of the first things that came to my mind of the 90's was Madonna, so I shall write a poem consisting mainly the titles of her songs.  Wish me luck....and I promise there won't be erotica so papa don't preach! :-)
 
 
This used to be my play ground this place so far in the past....and like a prayer I hold on to the memories...for they are frozen in time within the confines of my heart....and when the music plays I'll remember once again how I was crazy for you.... cause you were my lucky star and I was your ray of light in a constant holiday that made me cherish what it feels like to be a girl now I live to tell each secret and all the confessions on a dance floor that those times whispered of that could never be a bedtime story...and I refuse to be sorry for it all was a stepping stone to where I am now like hard candy makes us brush our teeth....the wilds of life lead us to a settling place...now a material girl I never was...but on the borderline I stood so many times where my spirit would take a bow and my heart would jump just to justify my love...vulnerable raw and true was the love we shared...and like a virgin each time we touched was like the first time indeed....now looking back I know that nothing really matters if it does not hold love at the core.....and what we had was true blue....it survived the storms of time no rain nor drought could kill it.... now it is the past but it still proves to be the thief of hearts in my memory....so I turn the radio on again and again just to go back to that forbidden love and all the memories it holds....for it will and always be the place I go back to....cause you see this used to be my play ground.
 
 
 

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Bold Sailor


Linking with Poet's United Midweek Motif ~Climate posted by Susan

The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. ~Mark Twain


There has been a climate change in the center of my heart.
The polar ice caps are melting because love's light has left a mark.
No longer are there icebergs that could sink the grandest ship.
 Now flows a current that allows a vessel's course to enter in.
 Expansion of the heart is a pilgrimage that must endure a harsher cold.
For the only way to gain a deep love is to be a sailor that is bold.


Saturday, March 5, 2016