He captured childhood, never let it go,
Sidestepped the potholes of “growing up”
Never forgot that ice cream is better when shared
Popsicles meant to be broken in two
Throwing stones in the pond an avocation
Skipping them….an art
He still slurps his soup as taste has consequences
Milk moustaches, especially chocolate, an art form
He still wipes his hands on his pants
Will pet a wet dog, tell “that” joke again
Wear that favorite frayed flannel
Flirt with the cashier at the super market
He will make fun of everything and everyone
And sometimes keep it to himself
More often though he leaves them shaking their heads
Wondering…”when will he ever grow up”
He knows, that they know, the answer
Probably never…if we’re lucky
May we be blessed to acknowledge all the wonders in our life
that have, for us, thus far accrued…
and to begin each day with a word of thanks…
and thoughts of gratitude.
Today I’m once again thankful for having the ability to dance
And for the words of Amit Kalantri…that I happened on by chance
Amit has a wonderful theory he is happy to advance…
The role of our feet is to keep us walking….he says
But their hobby,
their avocation…
their fancy
is to dance.
You bring me back to yesterday,
You awaken a bond,
Memories stream through me,
I’m at the shore of a crashing sea.
Gardening was his delight,
He sojourned in that light,
You dug through and unearthed,
These memories in me are still seated.
He basked in the bloom of spring,
Though he loved the symphony summer's lights bring,
You aided his avocation,
It was his inspiration.
He has gone,
You're here but worn,
He pushed beyond life's borders,
You aided his gardening wonders.
August 30, 2023.
Whatever is good is God.
Whomever chooses to be bad is just evil
So let the foul pollute himself.
Whomever continues to lie let them lie
bad liars must have good memories:
Today, my avocation is what help me
Its help deal with the madness, that surround me:
It only takes the one, two, three to set off my anxiety
“The thoughts you resist persist.” quote:
The positive energy I retain, I immediately give off
a hearty welcome, with a smile is just letting you all know
That I appreciated every one of you.
Whatever is good is God:
Whomever, chooses to be bad is just evil
My life is an open book, as I reveal it my poetry writing
Some folks do plastic surgery to better themselves
I improve my minds with my writing,
Words are my friends, so I surrounded myself with words
As my broken heart hurt me my writing improve like
A crying baby who was given a lollipop:
At times brain sax calm me,
Lying awake wouldn’t help the situation,
But the tick Tok tick sound of rain, might:
I choose my words carefully,
Because the manufacturers lie at times
All sizes don’t fit all.
Before ... I was a poetry writer,
I was a little girl story-writer,
though bullied- I became a life fighter,
and found a release.
With words there was total liberation,
and writing became my avocation,
a release, elation, fascination,
from past sadness.
I think, ponder and contemplate a theme,
sometimes, it will just come on a sunny beam,
I meditate and muse, reflect and dream,
to find poetic release.
The theme ... I will probe and investigate,
research, explore, and often it will frustrate,
but, then I have it and will celebrate,
just before release.
Have learnt to be diligent ... devoted,
in my head words and phrases have floated,
some of my lines have even been quoted,
now, I am a writer.
________________________
November 14, 2022
Poetry/Tail-rhyme/Now, I Am a Writer
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1502-292-14
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Just Before Release
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 11/27/2022
Seventh Place
her avocation ...
cooking... now her vocation ...
~ farewell ... vacations
A child says “mama”
in a crowded store
Six young women turn their heads
As do two older women
Who have not heard “mama” in a long time
“Mama” is an instinct, a calling, an avocation, a mission.
Art lives in my heart
She whirls and twirls with happiness
She wakes me up and puts a canvas in my hands
Causing me to want to get up three hours earlier than I need to leave for work
Art means so many things
She is my photography, my poetry, my passion, my avocation.
I incorporate her into my teaching, for she is continually with me
Insisting on her own way, leading me places I have never been
Art is my go-to-place
When I feel frustration or disappointment
Alleviating my sorrow or my anger
Art is everything; she lives in my heart.
I have an art studio in the back of my garage.
It lures me in on a daily basis – hours before and after work.
My hobby fills me with joy and satisfaction.
I feel completed, validated, and beloved when I am painting.
Five hours seems like twenty minutes.
My husband wholeheartedly approves of my hobby.
He knows that painting is as necessary for me as seeing.
I draw out between eight and thirteen canvases a week.
I have stacks of them in the studio, waiting for me.
While paint is drying on one, I am on to the next.
Painting is my passion, my avocation, my love.
It brings me fulfillment, reverence and silence.
When I am in the zone of painting, I am in another dimension.
My canvases are my fantasy, my children, my soul extensions.
I cannot imagine life without painting.
His name was Tom, he was an engineer.
This was not his calling, it is amazingly clear.
He stumbled upon apples at a market one day.
And he said “listen to me, right away!”
There are lost apples, people have not eaten for a hundred years.
I am going to find them, and raise them up, in these mountain clears.
Arkansas blacks, and Rusty Coats that are soft like pears.
Sweet as honey, they will attract all kinds of bears.
Mr. Brown has an orchard, and he is a super sleuth.
He has tracked down many varieties, this is the truth.
An elderly lady led him to the very last Junaluska apple tree.
He now can grow them as well as the Cherokee.
Tom Brown, you are a hero, for your avocation.
We apple pie baking folks are glad you live in our nation.
Thank you for rescuing the Grimes Golden sweets.
That they taste of nutmeg is rather neat!
It was a year ago today
we plain folk lost our say
our lives restricted
in so many ways
Couldn't go to work or see a show
almost nowhere we could go
Shopping at super-stores our recreation
Toilet paper hoarding, our avocation
One year later
things look better
COVID's memorial
~ five scarlet letters
I like to :
Acting
Writing
Vlogging
Speaking
Ghostwriting
I am an avid reader of Wikipedia.
I like to write and speak.
I like to motivate the folks to reach career heights.
You're my Knight and I'm you're Lady
a medieval flash in time not maybe
your nobility conquers any quest
with armor and sword dressed
Remove all apparel you need it not
for you've won the battle you have fought
leave your saber in the stone
magic comes from inside hence thrown
And the ruler will also disarm
to you I'd never harm
defenseless you are to exalt
cavalier without assault
Our virtue exposes all infrequent prosperity
excluding obnoxious barbarity
Your lord and vassal can retreat to isolation
drop coif and shield and leave all avocation
Although amateurs are annoyingly apt at aping another’s avocation,
All artists accord another’s art acceptance,
As any artwork asks appreciation,
And after all, all artists are allusive, anyhow.
October 21, 2019
Reformatted October 30, 2019
‘Twas supposed to be just a one shot deal.
Share my tribute poem, and away I’d steal.
But two dozen disparate folk,
Quietly attended the words of not one but two poems I spoke.
Unaccustomed to public speaking,
I felt safe revealing my feelings in their care taking.
Their eyes reacted to my verbal images,
Affirming heads nodded at phrases placed to advantage.
Then they charmed me with their emotions and imagination,
Tossing their poems’ honest words and phrases with abandon.
A rare safe haven for an extraordinary everyday population,
Whose courage rises to the needs of a poetic avocation.
They’ve already had a good effect on me,
For another poem from my mind is suddenly set free!
M. Renee Taylor
2-22-13
Sub Categories
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