Frivolity

I saw Frivolity today.

She begged me to come out and play.

I declined and sent her away.

I’ve work to do without delay.

 

She asked me how I came to this.

I smiled and gave my hair a twist.

“Well, I’ve been taught to resist,

Wasting time on unfettered bliss.”

 

With downcast eyes, she closed the door.

I heard her say she’d stop by no more,

 So I went to work at my chore.

I did not like it as before.

 

I left the work and went outside,

To search for her both far and wide,

But no sign of her could be spied.

I called out her name and cried and cried.

 

My heart ached for I’d lost my friend.

I thought she’d not come back again.

I knew no way to make amends,

For spurning her games of pretend.

 

When I believed that all was lost,

I heard her whisper low and soft,

“Come on let’s play, don’t count the cost.”

Work from my list today I crossed.

 

Frivolity is never far.

She is the wish upon each star,

And she and I are right on par,

Because we both know who we are.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Island Thanksgiving

Willing hands and warm hearts prepare a feast,

 Drawing many in our small island community,

From their homes into the often blustery winds,

In order to come together in unity.

 

It’s not only the food that brings this about,

Although the cooks might like to think that’s true.

It’s time to give thanks for a year of blessings.

When totaled, they amount to quite a few.

 

Burly lobstermen, carpenters, and preachers,

Work in the kitchen in controlled chaos,

Carving turkeys, tending to vegetables,

Cutting pies, and jellied cranberry sauce.

 

The time has come for the blessing to be said.

Heads bow in reverence as the preacher prays,

And a simple song of thanks is lifted,

As the entire crowd their voices raise.

 

Then the men down to the boys serve the food,

As starting with oldest and descending,

The people make their way to the tables,

In a train of folks that seem never-ending.

 

Laughter and chatter fill the schoolhouse gym,

With friends catching up on the latest news.

Old folks say that the kids have gotten big,

Then their discussion turns to ailments, too.

 

It’s a special time of camaraderie,

And events like this bond us together.

If only this spirit could spread worldwide,

It’d be a peaceful place altogether.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wheel of Life

The wheel of life turns and the seasons change.

The oak puts down roots deep into the earth.

It stretches its limbs to reach for the stars.

As the heavens declare the glory of the Lord,

The wheel slowly keeps revolving each year,

Bringing continuity and stability to the world.

The seasons dictate our ways and actions,

As they go through the cyclical ballet.

Let us become part of this circle of life.

Let us sing in harmony with the moon and stars.

Hold fast to the traditions and cling to the wheel,

As we pass through springtime, summer, autumn,

And finally enter the cold, deathlike state of winter.

Even then we shall be warmed by the fire in the hearth,

Until our life cycle comes to its own last winter,

When we shall rest in peace while the wheel turns.

The Holy One looks on and holds all things together.

At the appointed time the earth shall be renewed,

By the spoken word and we shall rise in eternity,

As the wheel of life turns, turns, turns.

 

 

 

All Hallows Eve

This is a new poetry form for me called Mishape. It consists of eleven lines and forty-three syllables and it must form a diamond. Line one has one syllable. Line two has two. Three has two. Four has five. Five has seven. Six has nine. Seven has seven. Eight has five. Nine has two. Ten has two and eleven has one. Give this a try. It's fun.

                                               Ghosts

                                             Come out

                                             To walk

                                    Each All Hallows Eve

                             In hopes that someone will pray

                           For their release from purgatory

                            And they may cross at long last

                                    To enter Heaven

                                          On the

                                           Other

                                            Side

                  

 

 

Peace One by One

In the stillness of the wood, peace reigns.

There it is easier to obtain.

The bustle of the crowds is far away,

And it brings to mind a better day.

Beyond the wood humanity roars,

Spreading chaos, turmoil, hate, and wars.

Will they never grasp or understand,

That the key to peace is in the land?

If they would seek out a quiet place,

It would benefit the human race.

If nature’s harmony is absorbed,

Into man’s breast, peace will be restored.

When man gains serenity within,

By shutting out the ungodly din,

He learns that life consists of more,

Than what most people are striving for.

When humankind takes time to stop and think,

They’ll seek peace and pull back from the brink.

It requires independent thought,

And conscious effort to change earth’s lot.

That’s why we all must find our own wood.

We must search it out for mankind’s good.

We will only make things right again,

When one by one, we have peace within.

Colorful Flying Things

Vivid and vivacious, colored, flying things,

Red, yellow, blue, purple, and more,

Show up in my backyard on feathered wings,

And flit at feeders right outside my door.

They bring color to the springtime world.

Their songs are melodious and sweet.

The joy of life they share on wings unfurled,

As I watch their antics and hear each tweet.

After the winters days so stark and bleak,

The gaudy colors of our feathered friends,

Returning to build nests with twigs in beaks,

Marks the death knell as winters grasp ends.

Fortress

The walls look insurmountable,

Constructed with solid materials,

And several feet in thickness.

They surround the structure on three sides,

 Helping to keep the invaders outside.

Nothing and no one must enter.

The fortress is designed to be impenetrable.

It is situated high on the granite outcropping,

Overlooking the sea; no one can scale the cliffs.

The solitary soul who lives locked inside,

Peers longingly out over the walls he erected,

And wonders what life is like out there.

He ponders what would happen,

If the walls were torn down.

What would happen if he ventured out,

And came in contact with the barbarians?

Would they harm him physically?

Would they torment his frail mind?

Would he become assimilated into their clan?

Could he withstand the temptation to worship,

And adore their strange, foreign gods?

He doesn’t know and never will,

Until he dares to leave his safe world.

If he plays it safe, his heart will never break.

If he doesn’t leave, he’ll never know grief,

And never experience joy beyond belief.

The fortress is a lonely haven far from heaven.

Some never attempt to tear down their walls.

Those brave enough to bring them down,

Learn abundant life can be found.

It can be grasped by those daring souls,

Who will to raze them to the ground,

And hold the pleasure with the pain,

Gently within the un-walled city of the heart.

Those Eyes

Those eyes mystify, terrify, and I can’t deny,

The power they have to hypnotize,

And immobilize by only one glance.

I am held in their power when by chance,

Our eyes meet in passing on the street.

That look, that stare, to what can I compare,

The raw desire contained in their reflection.

I must run for my own protection to escape,

Those piercing, blue eyes that draw me,

Ever deeper into the control of your soul.

I wish I’d never seen your blue eyes,

Because they have ensnared me,

 And I can’t disguise the way I feel.

You know full well what your eyes have done,

And I think you’re only in it for the fun you get,

When you watch my reaction to your gaze.

My head spins and my mind is in a haze,

All because of those cursed eyes.

Please look the other way, leave me I pray.

Let me go on alone and find someone new,

Someone who doesn’t have those eyes.

The Battlefield

The opposing army took the field.

They appeared formidable in size.

Their weapons in their hands they did wield.

It was clear they weren’t there under guise.

The commander was fearless and bold.

He spoke with arrogance and brashness.

He bellowed, “You won’t live to be old!”

Then he brandished his sword with rashness.

My insides quivered and my knees knocked.

I could feel my hands begin to shake.

He stared scornfully and our eyes locked.

He shouted, “Quit now for your own sake!”

“You won’t win against me,” he stated.

I trembled, but stood tall as I could.

He declared, “You’ll fail; it’s been fated.”

“I don’t think so,” I said as I should.

 He queried, “How dare you take control?”

“Back off and leave forever,” I said.

He said, “I own your mind and your soul.”

I stated, “No more; to me you’re dead.”

He screamed out in terror and retreated.

He took his entire army and went.

I yelled, “Worry, you are defeated!”

They were gone, lock, stock, barrel, and tent.

Don’t let worry have the upper hand,

And don’t let it play games with your mind.

Rebuke the evil force and its band.

Worry will go and leave faith behind.

A Healthy Dose of Doubt

Those who never doubt, never think.

They accept what they are told,

And hold it lightly without pondering.

They never squeeze the truth until it cries out.

Questions elude them for questioning requires work,

And being force-fed false fodder is easier,

 Because it doesn’t hurt to go with the flow.

When you struggle with uncertainty, you grow,

Yet growing pains are not usually pleasant.

When you outgrow old ways and thought patterns,

You emerge stronger for all the doubts you’ve fought,

And for all the battles you’ve won and the truth you’ve found.

Hesitation

I hesitate to say I love you.

The words are kept within,

Treasured, but not shared.

Fear locks them away in my heart.

Rejection is the reason for my inhibition.

I cannot contemplate being spurned.

I will wait for you to verbalize the emotion.

Yet, what if we become separated,

And torn apart before the words come out?

What if ‘I love you’ lingers long after you leave,

And becomes only a phantom to plague my mind?

What would cause my soul more anguish?

What good would hesitation do then?

Would inhibition bring happiness?

What if you should die before I reveal the way I feel?

Could I live with that regret or forget my foolish fears?

This world spins on, but our fleeting love will perish,

And go unspoken to an early grave,

With no way to resurrect it unless I speak,

‘I love you’ without, fear, inhibition, or hesitation.

I will say the words and pray it is not already too late.

Spring Haiku String

the April rains came

the earth received the offering

and used it wisely

flowers bloomed freely

as the result of the rains

Spring supplied beauty

on the winds of Spring

there is carried a promise

Summer’s warmth awaits

the promise seems vague

it is nebulous at best

yet it is whispered

it’s an untold tale

fluttering near perception

and almost believed

until rain returns

cold torrents dowse the promise

still the hope remains

Favorite Things

Awaking to the sound of a song sparrow,

Drinking French vanilla coffee in a cup,

Feeling the wind from the sea blow across my face,

And listening to the sea gulls cry in the early spring,

Dreaming of faraway places and seeing familiar faces,

Eating dark chocolate on a Sunday evening,

Along with a glass of deep red wine,

All of these and more are favorite things of mine.

Walking in the stillness of the forest,

And sitting by a rippling little stream,

Filling my soul with God’s greatness,

Taking in an old black and white TV show,

Listening to Willie Nelson on the radio,

Thinking of loved ones from long ago,

Holding the hand of a little child,

Loving until it hurts and wishing for the sublime,

All of these and more are favorite things of mine.

Reading a good novel on a rainy afternoon,

Eating peanut butter from the jar with a spoon,

Sleeping as long as I want even until noon,

Writing words that bring peace to my soul,

Living large and taking control,

All these and more are favorite things of mine.

Giving God all of the glory,

While telling an incredible story,

Singing a song from my teen years,

Especially Elton John’s Rocket Man,

And Santana’s Black Magic Woman,

All these and more are favorite things of mine.

Strawberries in a white bowl,

Losing at a game of cards to my husband,

Hearing him laugh bringing joy to my soul,

Watching my grandchildren reach a new goal,

Wandering far afield into a fairyland,

Doing things that were not planned,

All of these and more are favorite things of mine.

     This place is a favorite thing of mine and so are rainbows!