I meander my way through the hills, noting the pretty violets.
Their daintiness delights me, so I sit, trying not to crush any.
An impossible task. While I am down here, I notice the morels.
My hand reaches past them to feel the bumpiness of the tree moss.
The sun has greeted me; I see a diagonal sun stream lighting the meadow.
I lean against the trunk of the oak and study the prettiness of this valley.
Since I was a child I always wanted to be a grandma and live in the country.
I never wanted to cook or bake, so I don’t.
I sit here, loving the sound of crickets.
Was that a frog? I get up to wander to the pond. There are minnows there.
I can practically feel the cool water on my fingers; I stare at my age spots.
When did I grow my grandmother’s hands? I wonder if I still have my freckles.
The ones grandpa used to tease me about when I was nine. I will look later.
Categories:
bumpiness, how i feel,
Form: Prose Poetry
Thunderous is the sound of Black
darkening the sky and
booming with a loud crack
Soothing is the sound of Green
leaves dancing in the breeze
and making one feel serene
Loud is the sound of Red
blood streaming from someone
screaming off her head
Silence is the sound of Blue
in a clear sunny sky which is
very tranquillizing too
Crunchy is the sound of White
icy snow lying on the ground
creating a beautiful sight
Mellow is the sound of Yellow
leaves sighing in the breeze
while falling to the earth below
Babbling is the sound of Colourless
water flowing in a rippling brook
on a ground filled with bumpiness
Boisterous is the sound of Crimson
rage from an angry mob
who pay no heed to reason
Whispering is the sound of Pink
flushed skin of sensuality
with an aphrodisiac drink
Pompous is the sound of Purple
representing royalty and
other aristocratic people
Categories:
bumpiness, color, sound,
Form: Rhyme
There's a dinging in the kitchen,
There's a ringing in my head,
Someone's singing in my closet,
But, I fear the tenor's dead.
There's a clatter in my cupboard,
There's a matter unresolved,
There's a tiny pitter patter
Which is screaming up my hall.
There's a titillating teeter—totter
Slamming up and down.
And the bumpiness alone,
Just slid my grin into a frown.
Someone call the proper people,
Shut the silence off and then
Call the plumber, what a bummer,
I am dripping wet again.
All this screaming and complexity.
This damned insipid stain,
Is deplorable, abhor able
And driving me insane.
And the sum of all this madness
Has my tongue and guts in knots.
So you do all the talking...
Because I forgot the plot.
Categories:
bumpiness, funny, humorous, life, light,
Form: Light Verse