Category Archives: Poetry

Gratitude

Poetry

Thank you for every wispy, barely-there hair on her fragile skull
Thank you for her questing hands,
ever stronger with longer and longer reach,
that try to touch the world and bring it to her.

Thank you for her sturdy legs and feet
now planted to get a taller perspective on the world.

Thank you for her bright eyes, rosebud lips,
her eagerness to grasp and feel and taste
and know the world that daily expands around her.

Thank you for her skin,
especially those spots on her neck and belly
that distil that special blend of softness
and johnsons-baby-washedness that is the essence of babydom.

Thank you for the very selfness of her self,
the parts of us now parts of her,
the fizz in her eye,
the ready smile,
the chuckle deep in her throat when she’s really amused,
often by something small.

Thank you for all that she is and will become.
Thank you for my child.

Crosses

Poetry

Here, beneath summer showers,

Where lilac’s scent and thoughts

Hang heavy, he gathers memories

Of the not so distant past —

 

Faces, places, voices

He wishes he had long

Ago forgotten.

 

Yet, they drone on —

Like the beat of a drummer

In a marching band,

Continually tapping the same

Monotonous rhythm with each

Step he takes.

 

He ponders choices —

Good, bad, indifferent —

They were his to make.

 

But, these thoughts —

These memories that

Plague him, are what

Affect him most —

 

For often he feels —

In some strange, twisted

Way — they have chosen him —

Now, his cross to carry.

Beloved Land…..

Poetry, , , ,

Beloved Land…..

The time is here, the time is now,
to rejoice in prayer for our beloved land.
Birthing an idea, not time to recompense,
a place of freedom, no lines in the sand.

An unheard of ideology many dared to wonder,
if this great land would ever be set free.
Loyalists prospered, enjoyed life as it was,
then there were others with new ideas you see.

Being looked down upon for traveling so far,
tired of taxes growing larger each day.
Private meetings were held in a tavern nearby,
a chosen few were anointed to find a new way.

In the dead of night through the Palace Green,
many Patriots quietly scurried about.
Beware of Loyalists, who might speak your plans,
those in the Governor’s Palace stood tall and stout.

Lexington and Concord the most notable battle,
where it all began are marked statues at best.
Colonial Williamsburg should be on your list,
next to Washington D.C., it is better than the rest.

A quaint working village taking you back,
to a place in time, costumed people, you meet.
The past comes alive right before your eyes,
Fife and Drum, Merchants, on shore a fleet.

Rich with history, illuminating our past,
a place for the young and the young at heart.
Enjoy your barbeques, parties and yes, fireworks,
remember for it to remain we must all do our part.

Happy July 4th!

Published in:
“Inside Out, Upside Down and Backwards!”
Written by: Karen Palumbo
6/28/2007 (c) All Rights Reserved

Four Short Poems

Poetry, ,

Dripping, Tripping, Slipping
Kitchen faucet’s
Dripping, dripping
While my mind is
Tripping, tripping
Every drop drills through my brain
Plumber must come out again
Puddles causing
Slipping, slipping
While the tap is dripping, dripping

Diamond Ditty
I want lots of diamonds, diamond rings.
I need to be surrounded by beautiful things.
When I see fine jewels my heart sings.
I simply cannot help it; I just love those blings
Cover me with diamonds, shower me with gold
Fill my home with presents, whether new or old.
But most of all remember above all things
I want a lot of diamonds, diamond rings

Untitled Haikus
A garden of life,
Filled with oranges so sweet
Replete, I enjoy.

Bird, perched on a branch
Calls its mate, beseechingly
Telling of food found

Poets

Poetry

Blindly
Touching the
Naked thorns of
Enigma,
POETS
Can be more
Can see more
Can feel more
Without deepening
The colors of the
Blossom;

Sipping the wines and vinegars
Of the least excruciated life – poets
Breathe newness while shedding
The pall of past pretensions;

And with reverence –
Touching souls with delicate
Acumen – poets sense inspiration
As an Eagle with out-stretched
Wings comprehends the
Heavens and moon;

Becoming one note,
Inapposite, swirling and twirling
To establish a home on the stave
Of a more exalted symphony

Richard Lloyd Cederberg

Ollie Ollie Home Free

Poetry

Second childhood? First ’round
here some’ere! Stay IN, I say.
Wait ’til I signal things are cool.
What does she do? She goes and runs,
leaving me with this stick-in-the-mud
grown-up who is forever checking
the world’s most beat-up watch
or bending to a rule she needs
to break. Miss you, you rat. Feel
like a copy got stuck in a printer.
Tore in two when someone tugged.
Drum and cartridge too old for me
to be sharp. Barely read myself.
Good that scary parts smeared, but still.
Miss you!! Long to play Pretend
with you. To be wind, to be close-to-
matching doves high on robin’s egg blue
sky. To be egging each other on. To
paddle in puddles after a long summer
rain. Go in toe-to-head mud and waste
bubble bath. Laugh ourselves silly.
L-o-o-o-o-ve silly. Love even more
to believe. In angels. In genies. In
once-upon-a-time. In happily ever
after. Frogs.turning to princes, stars
winking back, mothers and fathers. . .
never mind. Such a trip to believe
Dubble Bubble glued our stomachs
to our belly buttons. All that’s wanted
is to say the secret word that unsticks.
Same trick fixes other stuff. People!
Turns us all into pop-up dolls
in a book like Aesop’s, only we
move and talk and touch. Are really,
really strong, and have been whisked
to this humongous dream house ‘neath
trees go up and up. Just enough sun
and rain to make sure flowers bloom
in every color in the box, and more.
Let’s be sure to color that adorable mouse
and pup, ‘kay? Cat got itself tangled
in yarn. No worries, spider won’t hurt
a fly. No one will. Book may close,
but not this minute.
.
Going back and forth gobbles memory.
Maybe if I stop going on, I’ll remember
where you hid last time. Come on!
Tell me I am warm . .

(c) Phyllis Jean Gteen, 2008