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 liked 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
He chose to announce and proclaim
That he be known as Quackicorn.