The Garden (hour 5)

The lavender stretched to catch the sun rays.

The sunflowers followed with their friendliest gaze,

The cucumbers grew plump on the vine,

Picked for the tasting when it was the right time.


The garden gows with patient care.

Sun, soil, water, and time, The results come to bear.


Siren Song (Hour 4)

The siren sounds its warning,

Every Saturday at noon.

Because it’s every weekend,

I hope we’re not immune.

The weather can be wicked,

Winds whipping wildly too and fro.

Hail pounding the roof and siding,

Causing worry down below.

Rain falling in sheets,

Wipers unable to stay on task,

The siren sounds its warning,

Please listen is what it asks.


Around The Room (Prompt 3 Hour 3)

The ceiling fan hums as it stirs the air.

The carpet soft to my bare feet,

The linoleum cool, where my toes meet.

The sunlight brightens the room,

Giving hint of the warm day.

The cats are snuggled together,

Resting from play.

Moonlight Magic (Prompt 2, Hour 2)

The moonlight shimmered a path across the lake,

A secret that few were brave enough to take..

There were stories though, of once upon a time,

When people disappeared without a trace,

Some say they lost their minds.

The wind whispered its secret, rustling through the trees,

The ones to hear it, would come in twos and threes.


Taking off their shoes, at the lake they wade right in,

Disappearing from view at the horizon’s end.

The morning would come, with a few more empty beds.

The police would go on searching, always shaking their heads.


Great grandpa said there was a land where lake a moonlight met,

I never ventured over there, it has been my life’s regret.

I Am A Poet (Hour 1, Prompt1)

I am not who I thought I would be,

When I was young, when I was carefree.

Maybe a teacher, a journalist, or more,

A family of two or a family of four.


I am not a mom or a wife,

I am blessed nevertheless with a happy life.

I am a daughter, a sister, a friend.

A neighbor, an employee, not one in trend.


The dreams of youth did pass away,

I am thankful yet for this very day.

I am a poet , I love to encourage my friends.

I am glad for this gift of a poetry weekend.



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!