Poo Kitty
New kitty, poo kitty
Poo, poo, poo
Don’t play in poo kitty
Eww, kitty, eww
You kitty, poo kitty
No, no, no
Icky kitty, city kitty
Out you go!
Not Going for A Walk
I’m comfortable.
In my bed.
Gah. I’ve seen this Mickey Mouse cartoon so many times- I know each line word for word.
The three year old is jumping… ON MY BED… and I’ve given him the look 75 billion and a half times.
He is a chatterbox, not just today, but every morning. He even talks in his sleep-
When he isn’t snoring-
What happened to the cute little breaths he took as a baby? These are near grown man sounds that escape his sleeping lips.
And when he realizes I haven’t responded to his words with whatever he has deemed appropriate or with nothing at all, he quietly reminds himself that I am working.
And it is a blissful 2.5 seconds of quiet.
Ah, but it is a continuous circle that cannot be broken or interrupted or muted or paused.
Maybe a walk is what I need after all.
Fresh air would be great, a stimulating conversation with nature is sure to stimulate brain cells that beg to take one or two more winks.
Guess, I will put on clothes and go for a walk…
The three year old has spies everywhere and I will not escape this time unseen.
I don’t really like clothes, anyway.
Besides, I’m quite comfortable.
In my bed.
But you enjoy the scenery.
And if you hear an incessant banging from a window as you pass by-
Don’t worry, it is just the three year old wishing you a happy, sunshiny day.
Wave, smile and just keep walking.
Otherwise, you’ll be entrapped in a conversation with a three year old and absolutely no way out.
Then I will be forced to leave my cocoon of comfort and warmth-
You’ll see my t shirt, rumpled and wrinkled and if the angle is right, you might even see some thigh connected to a panty that is anything but sexy.
But, I digress. And that isn’t how we make any progress.
Yes, a walk would indeed be best.
Gets the blood flowing, you know?
But.
I am comfortable.
In my bed.
Messages of Love
A ping
To say I love you
A message
To show I care
It’s love
Modern
Look
I make sure the world
Sees
All you do
Or it isn’t real.
Cropped,
Filtered,
And touched up
And we are perfect.
Love,
Unfiltered
A bonus to show
Us
Together.
Love and life
Under
A perfect
Shadow.
True,
Yet false.
Word Sculptor
Plucking and arranging
26 letters
Creating, merging, forming
Vowels with consonants
Building, balancing
Words
Sculpting, forging
Poetry to be devoured
FYI:
It takes a certain amount of selfishness
to be a writer.
Like your teenage granddaughter,
you have to ignore everyone around you,
lock yourself in your room,
refuse to speak,
eyes on screen,
fingers tapping furiously
Like your cat,
you can’t be bothered
by someone else’s attitude,
by nos and do nots.
Like your dog,
demand to be let in the door,
to be fed.
It’s not always about someone else–
lover, friend, the needy, your child,
that insistent dog.
Sometimes it has to be about you
and the story you must write.
Dark to Light (Poem #3)
Brightness Beautiful and indescribable colors Greens, blues, reds Joy, laughter, smiles How do I even begin… The journey The living hell Life without sight It has been indescribably difficult Disgust, hatred My wish was death But now Now I want to be that light The brightness in people’s lives My life is different I was blind But now I see I was consumed by darkness Now I am the light the expels it My life is forever changed
Musings Of Morning
I have noted that the birds are singing beautiful melodies and sunshine is warm upon my back. The flags on the flagpole in my front yard are sailing slightly in the humid breeze. My curious kittens are scampering around the property looking to see what mischief may be awaiting. I’m smiling! The pool pump is making it’s usual morning swirls through the swimming pool. It will feel so nice later on when I get in there and take a cool dip. Hopefully it will refresh my words and make them flow freely from my heart! Tomorrow’s forecast calls for a cold front to bring rain and cooler temperatures of 90 degrees. Yeah!!! I’m thankful!
BREAK FOR A TEACHER
BREAK FOR A TEACHER
Summer day.
The gray goes away.
Drifting
Slowly,
Gently
Away.
Sweet birds are singing.
Church bells are ringing.
Singing symphonic songs of love.
Wonderful,
Glorious
Day!
Wild in Wait, Hour 3
Dull orange lights of civilizations distant
Sky pinpricked by civilizations ancient
Constellations comprised of collapsed stars
Echoes of the primordial across sea’s expanse
Ride the rhythms of ever-changing tides
Gaia groans, bemoaning civilization’s scourge on Her perfection
The Wild waits, impassive yet impatient
Traces of ancient wisdom winding down through generations
Our only hope for self-preservation
Civilization’s artificial illumination dims
As Luna’s light exposes it’s superficial nature
Casting silver shine on slowly rusting iron
The Magic of Equestria – Hour 2
The magic of Equestria
Holds much power, says Celestia
The magic of life –
Freedom is for what ponies strive
Ponies fulfill their dream
While flowing with the stream
The magic of a unicorn
All comes from just a horn
Whatever they learn, they learn with ease
Until they can do whatever they please
The magic of ponies flying
Their beauty can make ponies crying
Their stunts are one of a kind
Which will blow your mind
The magic of an Earth pony
They can make plants grow more freely
They are very strong
And rarely do something wrong
The magic of two friends together
Is stronger than any weather
Stronger than any state of mind
For their problems never blind
But nothing can break it
For they have too much magic