My streams of thought meet here
Hello everyone. Well, as I’ve said before it’s National Poetry Month and here I’ve missed posting for two days, being busy sewing this week. I’ve had this limerick ready so I’d best post it now, lest I fall farther behind.
BUSKERS BUSTED
Three buskers on stilts did essay
to entertain crowds one fine day.
Intending to dance,
they started their prance
but their legs got in each others’ way.
The Ragtag Daily Prompt is PRECISE
The Discover prompt for today: HANDS
The Word of the Day challenge: BOUNCE
This verse can also be my contribution to National Poetry Month
PRECIPICE PRUDENCE
When you stand
at the pinnacle of a precipice
be prudent and precise
where you put your feet
lest some slight slip
send you sliding;
down the slippery slope
you’ll bounce and tumble
like a stone
to a crunching crash below.
Hands won’t help,
no handrails anywhere,
no grasping at the rushing air
will stop you. Only wings
would save you then,
and those you lack
so stand well back.
Don’t risk a fall for folly.
Likewise in life,
this panorama
of time and space
through which we tread,
be prudent and precise
where you put your feet.
Soft-hearted dear, Grannie Brown
was friend to the children in town.
When the smell of her baking
spread hopes of partaking,
in minutes, guess who’d be around.
🙂
This limerick, a tale from “the good old days,” is my contribution today to National Poetry Month.
“Oh, the out-of style jacket,
those tacky scuffed shoes!”
Yes, the young say he’s weird
but they’ve dyed their hair blue.
They mock her babushka,
and say with a wink.
“What a funny old dress!”
but their hair is bright pink.
They say, “He’s so past it
and that tie, what a scream!”
Don’t know folks are grinning
’cause their hair’s aubergine.
I’ve dashed off this “colorful” verse as today’s contribution to National Poetry Month.
I may be posting this very late, but decided I did not want to miss a day of publishing something for the National Poetry Month.
A Writer Fashions Worlds
Odd creature that she is,
this writer fashions worlds,
creates fanciful kingdoms,
then plunders them,
creating mayhem among the citizens.
She plucks out the chosen few
and torments them
dealing out unsolvable woes
then splashing their joy and pain
across the inked pages
to amuse anonymous readers,
hoping amidst the debris
some astute soul will digest
the cleverly placed kernel
of life-changing truth.
The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is LONELY
and the Discover prompt: Day 2 is OPEN
Plus, it’s National Poetry Month, so here’s my response:
ANOTHER STRAY
A cold wind rattles
me and the dying leaves
as I pass, going nowhere,
alone and unseen in the dark.
The glow from a window
a jab of memory: I see again
Mom’s kitchen door open for me,
and feel her warm hug,
smell the gingerbread cookies
She knew I was so fond of.
I walk away from the warmth;
like I did years back – crazy kid!
Farther down the street I find
a scrawny cat by a garbage can,
another stray with no home.
I wonder if he’s found
anything worth eating there?
Perhaps some prodigal mouse
will venture too far from home
searching for some idiotic thrill
and find only the claws
of an insatiably hungry cat.
