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28 March 2015

Grandma's Poem

My poetry has been published by The Australia Times in their poetry magazine. A couple of issues back there was a poem by another poet titled, "The Farmer Feeds Them All." So I wrote to the editor that my grandmother had written a poem by the same title and sent a copy of the poem. The editor emailed back that she like Grandma's poem & was going to publish it. Ellen Johanna Larson Smith's poem and bio were just published by The Australia Times: http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/307/
If the link works, in the little box, top center, enter 46 to go directly to her poem.

21 March 2015

Forbear My Stare

Forbear My Stare
19 March 2015

Forgive my stare, as I look a you really hard.
I don’t mean to be rude or catch you off guard.
I just want to remember the curve of your smile
Well enough it stays in my deepest memory file.

16 March 2015

Moth, Bug Off

Moth, Bug Off!
10 March 2015

In my dry bathtub stall
There was a moth on the wall.
It had a pretty wing span
In shades of brown and tan.
“Poor moth,” I cried,
“You’re supposed to be outside.
The windows all had screens
Obstructing any easy means
Of releasing the moth outdoors
To fly in nature’s corridors.
I picked up a flip-flop
And with a very loud pop
Brought a instantaneous end
As the flier was flattened.

14 March 2015

Decision Vision

Decision Vision
8 March 2015

My logical side says,
“Something needs to be done.”
My emotional side says,
“Let’s have some fun.”
The internal struggle
Of trying to juggle
And give a little to both,
Makes me swear an oath.
In the end I choose
What I can best use
To strike pay-dirt
From of my effort.

06 March 2015

Reborn Unicorn

Reborn Unicorn
5 March 2015

Once upon a time there was a little Ducky Waddles
Growing up and following his mother around.
He had fun splashing in all the rain puddles.
While swimming in the pond, his joy was unbound.
Poor Ducky Waddles, those activities
Didn’t prepare him for the troubles
Of aging into puberty’s sensitivities
With all its changes and struggles.
His voice dropped and his quack cracked,
And he noticed other oddities carefully.
His crest and tail feathers, as a matter of fact,
Grew much longer and came in very colorfully.
There was an itch on his forehead
Which he rubbed occasionally.
What a total surprise, instead of a blackhead,
A horn grew there functionally.
Ducky Waddles no longer fit as a name
Now that he had a mane, tail and horn.
What he chose to announce and proclaim
Is that he be known as Quackicorn.

01 February 2015

Published in Australia

One of my poems was published in The Australia Times poetry magazine. In the top center box type "50" to skip to my poem.
http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/303/

24 January 2015

Hard-core Chore

Hard-core Chore
24 Jan 2015

Looking at the task to be done,
Didn’t look like very much fun.
Setting about with determination
And stimulated by imagination,
She dug in where there was need.
Concentrating on doing the deed,
Incrementally making progress
While ignoring any stress,
Soon she could see results.
Double checking for faults,
The job didn’t seem megalithic.
Doing her best with a work ethic,
With what she knew and what she had
The final outcome wasn’t half bad.

28 December 2014

Peace Piece

Peace Piece
25 Dec 2014

Two men in a quiet place
Arm in arm, face to face,
Caught in a tight embrace.
Their touching slowing its pace.
Peace pervades their space.

Two diplomats in a quiet space,
Arranged meeting face-to-face.
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
Hostilities slowing their pace,
Peace negotiations take place.

Two nations in a quiet place,
Friendly nations on their face,
United by trade’s embrace.
Negotiations happen at their own pace,
Peace is present in this space.

30 November 2014

Shower by the Hour

Shower by the Hour
29 November 2014

I swear the gas bill’s going up
And the water bill, too.
It’s all from Al showing up
To shower and shampoo.
When the water’s just right
He doesn’t know he’s over the top
And the water just runs in spite
Of the costs going on non-stop.
He turns around and around
Under the water’s warm spray,
Dancing naked and unbound,
Acting like it’s time to play.
He’d turn the water off
If he had any common sense.
It’s time to towel off
Instead of testing my beneficence.
I fervently hope that he
Cooperates and understands
Instead of leaving me
Just wringing my hands.

19 October 2014

Embracing Pacing


Embracing Pacing
18 October 2014

While visiting my nephew
The baby wailed and bawled.
What on earth should I do
So he no longer squalled?
I picked up the wee one
And held him in my arms.
From experience in person
One way to silence his alarms
Was to walk the floor,
Pacing around and around.
Going outside thru the door
He stopped making any sound.
In a moment of reflection,
I realized he wouldn't stay
At this stage of perfection,
An expression of his naivete.
He'll be small enough to carry
For just a little while more.
This stage is just momentary
Then he won't be a baby anymore.