Friday night the weekend begins for most
Mothers, Fathers, with family members host
To be together with those they LOVE most
While a lonely man speaks with his Wife's ghost
On my computer the POETRY site
Saturday mornings some comments I write
My former students all work through the night
An old man see's his Wife's Heavenly Light
After Church, there is my A A meeting
Forlorn lonesomeness,now takes a beating
I get home; Featured POETS; I'm greeting
Images of my lovely Wife : Fleeting
Monday, a new week, new POEMS I shall start
I pick up my quill and write from my Heart
Author's note: Dear Andrea, all lines have 10 syllables(Thanks for the Spelling)
I still have to work on the format - aabb- This looks like aaaa but it's not ; a - just happens to rhyme with - b -
'...and then the lighting of the lamps.'
Swallows flit and dart, the glow of evening
settles o'er the fields, the day is fading;
sunset gilds the sky with glorious luster,
vibrant reds and golds, and softer shading.
Lamps are lit, the countryside is flickering
in candlelight, the cows are coming home;
peacefulness descends in waves of twilight,
the animals are safe, no need to roam.
Horses tethered to their posts are waiting
for the exertions of the day ahead;
farmers partake, extinguish their candles
to darkness, and then take themselves to bed
to pray for courage to endure their toil,
for days they spend in harness to the soil.
Super Bowl Sunday is finally here
same excitement as Staubach and Griese
drinkers have an excuse to drink more beer
today’s Super Bowl not sure if I’ll see
the Super Bowl is much more than a game
those commercials bring excitement also
Fritos and Pepsi will also get fame
for many the game is the only show
I’ve have been to two Super Bowl parties
last one was the Chargers and the Niners
I worked those Mondays without a tardy
I’m not granddad I’m not with those miners
so eat drink and enjoy the game today
once the work week starts there is no more play
Dating a beautiful redhead girl will be the greatest moment of my life. She’s like an Irish princess, even better. Her hair is so red, it’s as if she’s on fire. Her beautiful eyes are like a pair of emerald gems when I look at them. And her pale skin is as beautiful as pure, white snow. It seems to me that all attractive redheads are amazing, and most of all, they’re down to Earth. This redhead is also like a beautiful, Irish Princess, even from the Emerald Isle (Ireland). I never dated an attractive redheaded girl before, but it’s about time that I did. Plus, there are other beautiful redheads who are famous, like Kay and Danielle Panabaker, Emma Stone, Hayley Williams, Lindsay Lohan, Lily Cole, and others. Not to mention Julienne Moore, even though she’s happily married. I wouldn’t mind dating a beautiful redhead, but she has to be from the U.S. or Ireland. She’s like that redheaded warrior from Brave. She’ll be my Irish Princess one day (Irish girlfriend), and I’ll be her American prince (American beau). I say, if I were to get into a serious relationship with this attractive redhead, I won’t break her heart; I’d also be honest and truthful to her. I know that female redheads are sensitive and I also know that she doesn’t want to be brokenhearted. All I know is that if I fall in love with a redhead girl and I become infatuated with her, there’s just no telling.
Being the little sister in a family with mostly boys
Was very hard and difficult liking all their toys
I loved to play in the dirt , could throw any ball
Played "running bases", "tag", and loved "off the wall"
My sister was way older and she was never home
So I was forced to battle with my brothers on my own
I fought my battles valiantly, but each time I would lose
Being youngest in a family,I often became the muse
I cried many tears those many years ago
For competing with those boys,I had a lot to show
I grew older,strong, and smarter and chose a tough career
Cooking for a living in a man's world, I showed no fear
Those brothers had taught me to always fight for what's right
A women could cook as well as a man, and besides I had a knife!
Who pays this roaring mass?
Which pretends it has nothing to do with me?
Yet keeps pulling its antenna,
To watch what I do?
Who pays these seat feelers?
To gawk at me
Even when I am yawning?
Who pays this swam
To creep into my bolts
And unlock the secrets
Of My private business
Who pays us?
For I have been possessed by their intrigue
I find myself doing what they do
Yet I am not paid at all
I am going on strike
This boss has to pay me
Because I am becoming a workaholic
yet earning Revenge
You are the salt of the earth;
Farmer, we say that to you;
You are hardworking and true;
We recognize your worth.
To the crop you give birth,
The soil, you subdue,
Cornstalks break through,
to avert famine and dearth.
But where is your son?
He’s not learning how.
He won’t be outdone—
living the life of high brow,
He forfeits work in the sun,
renounces his seed and the plow.
They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense;
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar.
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun...
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! "
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "
O' laundry day, I cannot bare the thought
Of piling up these clothes any higher.
The devil on my shoulder says I ought
To take a match and set'm all on fire.
My knuckles, bitter with blue detergent,
Scrape against the corner of the machine
And although the pain is not urgent,
It makes me want to throw my head back and scream.
The sweat on my wrist takes the sweat off my brow
Every time I enter the basement.
The dryer's not done - oh wait - Joy! It is now,
So on with the folding and placement.
The day is spent - my clothes are finely done.
I'm ready to go out and have some fun!
Get-go scrupulous attention,
live to cornucopia,
Coherence in familial bonds
must ever stay,
Romantic evening is
reminiscent of happier times,
Are the ones standing by you
on your final day!
Guileless life, a battlefield of
For evolution of the race, you
ought to play,
Contentious hard work makes
Hypothecate moulding for
betterment as if in clay!
Sun gifted you its brightest
Fragrance added through each
Brew your friends well for a
Appreciate nature add up to a
Life is fugacious yet addicting,
its secrets camouflage,
Adopt blithesome attitude,
risible for a hearty laugh !!
Written by - Dr Upma Sharma
Contest name- Take two
Sponsor- Nette onclaud
Previously entered into
Shakespearian Sonnet competition
sponsored by Karen Puff,
Written actually on 26/1/14