A Half Marathon

Subtracting duplicate words, I have a word count of 98 (I think).

 

A half marathon of poems,
I did not imagine this day.
Sitting focussed and writing,
Not letting myself go astray.

A dozen poems drafted,
Some happy, some silly, some sad,
A starting place for many,
Some really not half bad.

The finish line in sight,
An exhaled breath of relief.
A goal achieved in writing,
Defying the thoughts of defeat.

The words were hard some hours,
Some poems easily did flow.
The dream of writing flowers,
The hope of more poetry grows.

Vulnerable at times,
To let people see.
The creative writing person,
The heart upon my sleeve.

Silence oh inner critic,
You have no place today.
Writing is a talent,
From it I should not stray.

Giggles did occur,
Laughter did ensue.
Victory accomplished,
A half marathon I did do!

The Jig

The cheerful jig sounded from center stage that day,
Clapping hands and tapping toes answered the fiddle’s play.
The summer festival every year would draw for miles around,
Family and friends would gatherfor the magical sound.
Warm summer days, tasty treats, the festival had it all,
Children’s laughter in the streets, answering summer’s call.

A Gray Blue Day

Your eyes were hidden behind tinted shades,
Your expression hard to read that way.
The sun was hidden behind the clouds,
The skies were mostly gray.

The blue waters stretched for miles,
We avoided the fall showers.
Stories shared of your youth,
We walked and talked for hours.

At lunch, we laughed over silly things,
Your eyes, I finally saw their hue.
I smile each time I remember this day,
My favorite color is blue.

The Road

I did not understand the road she walked,
Until it was my turn to walk it too.
I did not understand how it was,
To lose a parent so soon.

I did not understand the ache,
The longing for one more talk.
To have one more moment you stroke my hair,
One more shopping walk.

A friend walked the road after me,
I try to help how I can.
Keeping her company as she grieves,
As she tries to understand.

I understand now the road she walked,
Everything changed that day.
I still long for her again to talk,
To know I’ll be okay.

A Silly Shovel

Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll is the inspiration at this golden shovel.  “`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves”

 

The case of the giggles is deadly you see, ’twas
a contagion that infects as many can be. Brillig
would not contain, this nefarious foe and
freedom to continue away it would go. the
danger lies in naivety for giggling can be quite slithy.
Beware and never regret passing giggling toves!

Tear Drops

The tendrils of fear linger as the scene replays,
Worry of words said upon long ago days.
Nausea swirls, blood pressure rises, the tears being to pool.
Breathing deeply sometimes helps to stay feeling like a fool.
Typing with fury the words on the screen express the anger inside,
Tear drops fall down freely, there’s no point in them to hide.

Wiping away the evidence, eyes only slightly red.
The goal now to finish the day and climb back into bed.

The Morning Dance

Every morning begins the dance,
A new day’s arrival, a new day’s chance.
Choices to be made on the focus of the day.
Choices to be made whether we’ll fret or pray.

Every morning begins the dance,
The coffee and ice water filled.
Checking morning emails, following the drill.
Vacation changes the dance and gives all a thrill.

Every morning begins the dance,
Some do the zombie walk.
Remembering to take a chance,
To smile at others and to talk.

Every morning begins the dance,
What choices will you make?
Will you lose yourself in the day,
Or will a chance you take?

Make a difference every morning,
Find a new dance to do.
You touch more lives than you know,
Make a difference, show kindess true.

The Basement

The basement was a refuge,
A place to play hide and seek.
In hot summer months, the cool concrete,
Granted us sweet relief.

The piano was old and out of tune,
You could still plunk many a melody.
The four square marks by masking tape,
Made for game that were unique.

When the storm sirens would blow,
The basement would shelter us,
Beneath the stairs we would stay.
The sleeping bags for camping out,
Indoors where we would play.

Laundry was done in the basement,
Dad’s tools lined the workbench wall.
Storage of suitcases, old photographs,
Baby clothes from our first days.

The basement was for us many things,
A memory not gone away.

The Waters Call

The waters call to him,
No matter where he goes.
He longs for the beauty,
The waters gentle flow.

The waters call to him,
The love his sons do share.
They spend time on the water together,
Laughing without care.

The waters call to him,
Lake, stream, or ocean wave.
He finds healing in the sound,
The rest his soul does crave.

The waters call to him,
No matter where he roams.
The waters call to him,
For there he finds his home.

To my cat

Dearest companion of twenty plus years,
How you make me laugh, your fur dries my tears.
From Missouri to Georgia, together we went.
You are a gift to me, you are heaven sent.
You’ve detected bugs in the house and a dishwasher leak,
Your meows are often a conversation I seek.
Your purrs soothe me when I’m feeling sad,
You know all my secrets, the happy, the bad.
My first four legged child, all of my own,
When you are with me, you make it a home.