Wild Birds and Nutsy
There still is beauty in the lengthy life,
Tho no longer glamorous corporate strife,
Grief and relief fall on first lonely days,
Staring outside at the wild life at play.
Beginning to guess what is that bird song?
What is that harsh screech that doesn’t belong?
The swish of a tail and the bark of a squirrel,
Capture the mind to find a new-found world.
Waking up walking in a wild feed store,
Buying seed, talking needs unknown before,
Naming each bird and “Nutsy” the new pest.
Challenges the same as those old ones now rest.
When wild life becomes a new family,
You’re hooked, they’ve won you, addicted, you’re free.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017
my baseball playing days in Teeners league
hardly played my main position was bench
by not playing I never had fatigue
use to dream of being like Johnny Bench
in the navy I wasn’t on the bench
I was a star during those times at sea
In France I even spoke a little French
my time out at sea I truly felt free
those days are gone yet I’m reliving them
poetry has been that light at the end
it has nothing to do with my brain stem
I admit this is my life no pretend
I have lived on a bench for a few years
it felt that way yet I never shed tears
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
Hibernation collects the highest rank
calmness, walloping in the coolest hole
sleep possesses wealth in the biggest bank
activity in a minimal role
tough muscles on old age can't play a prank
whatever height not yet reached, stop the pole
to weary bones and a weak mind, be frank
to heal already found sores on each sole
it is the time for time to have mercy
the end romance still needs that approval
productivity has made life spicy
relaxation, ready to shape it oval
what remains to Life, so cool and icy
as death waits to have a permanent val.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
I was wrong about spring,
for all those months I painted the blame on winter’s dark face.
Wave after wave of cold cloudy, darkening days,
saturated my damaged point of view. By the way
I am sure I will die on a winter day, blaming the solstice,
waiting for the capricious spring to finally arrive.
But my heart will be frozen, and perhaps not even alive.
God how I love the way you make the sun shine.
I was wrong about my fate,
I filled the frame in haste, too busy to wait. I didn’t listen.
I ate my own eyes, and blamed the skies,
I chased the horizon and wrapped it in lies.
Oh spring day, it is never too late,
to fill me with mercy and grace as I wait.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2013
At first you’re free to spend your days
To roam the earth, if wealth obeys.
Choose not to do those daily tasks
Instead, out in the sun to bask.
Each day as new adventure’s sought
Regret seeps in, you really ought…
To do something more with each year
To waste time is your greatest fear.
As you slow down thoughts will unfurl
What mark did you make on this world?
A new path lays before you now
To make life matter, you must vow…
“I will not stop. I’ll carry on
Until my final breath is drawn”
Copyright © Betty Janko | Year Posted 2016
Doctor, Doctor yes I am back again
Stop telling me to take a seat my friend
Millions of other peoples money you spend
Without the helping hand you promise to lend
You're really not a physician just playing pretend
Another unneeded prescription you extend
Then off to your pharmacy downstairs you send
I am putting you on notice so you better comprehend
That this profession for you is now a dead end
Stop your practice or to another realm you'll descend
Damned to Hell with your soul is what I intend
So listen close and take this advice I recommend
Here is your resignation that I've already perfectly penned
Dot your T's, cross your eyes because this is the end...
Copyright © Brian Davey | Year Posted 2016
Got drunk as a skunk, at a debutante
Eye catching tat I want. With no regrets
a masterpiece of art that I can flaunt
clearly expressing my love for Begretz
Fritz loves Begretz on a red crimson heart.
When the artist was done the tattoo read
Ritz loves Begets on a red crimson heart
With grieve I departed , I know I’m dead
Pearl, in no way cared, that was a big void
I’m all wrinkled wishing I was younger
Instead of guessing and getting annoyed
now you know the tattoo is no longer
Young and reckless, no more needs to be said
I’m still alive with the life that I led
Which Of The Four Would You Choose - cartoon #4
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick |
Sonnet: 10 syllables per line, rhyme scheme abab, cdcd, efef, gg ..Fourteen lines with last two lines like a summary of the poem..
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
From where I drift from my old home, the roads
And places that I roam, I stay at peace.
Never can a word of a soul release
My care for the dirt, not even those loads.
Bumping along the sweet country, railroads
Adjoin the scene of beauty that won’t cease.
The sun shines through the window marked with grease,
I wish I could rehash these episodes.
My hair, oh, what a sad color of gray,
It’s no longer pretty, but rather thin.
I mourn that I waited till now, I lay
Immovable from my bed, yet I grin.
In spite of present hopes I will still pray,
To The One above who made life begin.
Copyright © Morgan Kramer | Year Posted 2017
A fisherman can no longer stand
Going out to sea, no longer grand
At first, he sits and longs for the sea
And thinks “Life is over for me”
But then one day he picks up his knife
A piece of soft wood, gives it a swipe
Suddenly he sees a form take place
A passion forms, life becomes a race.
Now he rises each day with a drive
Thoughts overflow, he feels so alive
Surrounded by his works on the shelf
Proud of them all, so proud of himself.
One passion was lost, another found
He’s building a new life with resound.
Copyright © Betty Janko | Year Posted 2017
Emeralds twinkling with evening diamonds,
Twilight planes flying through cotton ball clouds,
Wending weary workers traveling home,
A sole spectator sun-hatted watches.
The roar of rolling roads, a siren sound,
Like ants they crawl through streets to empty town.
The smell of smoke o’er charcoal lit fences
Tips of skyscrapers blazing through late smog.
The city is stretching while joggers run,
Baseball boys carry their bats from the park,
The dusk is creeping neath the western sun,
The sole spectator sighs, be-hats, recalls.
Sleepy children with books curl on the floor
It’s the end of the day in my City.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017
CUPID PULLS BACK THE BOW
Their life has been their Valentine day
Cupid's heart and bow
on Valentine's day
shooting golden arrows aglow
touching their senior hearts to ballet
Chocolates dance nicely gift wrap
red roses sing delight
with a dinner and then a nightcap
to candlelight throughout the night
For two graying doves
nestled the passage of time
so much in their love
with everyday a chime
As senior's years a golden
bright eyes still excite
their love, still beholden
two little gray doves cooing the night
She flies on his ageless wings
still, to new discoveries as he sings
non contest entry
Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2017
I am very young in spirit, never weak: guess my actual age?
I keep a positive outlook by avoiding negativeness and rage!
Twenty years from now, I'll be wrinkly and gray losing more hair than today;
I'll spend hours in devoted prayer, molding real faces out of plaster and clay!
Anywhere in the lovely Italian countryside emotions seem to rise from inside,
I'll sit and paint those life-like images singing an aria from Madame Butterfly:
thinking of New York's friendly faces and that girl who never became my bride,
but staring at the ticking watch will increase sadness, minutes will not speed by!
Can anyone imagine how I'll react when all the hearts I've broken
will finally smile and feel some empathy, although vivid is their memory?
Time, distance and forgiveness won't allow bitterness to reawaken...
isn't this something everyone should reflect upon and think it thoroughly?
For now, any sad thought on being old must be put aside;
all I can hope for is getting there on the smoothest ride!
Written on 4/ 23/2017
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2017