The grandkids are heading to sleepaway camp,
Their clothing all labeled and packed,
Plus all of the extras they may or not need -
Way too much, as a matter of fact.
They bring pillows and blankets and flashlights and fans
And shin guards and sandals and cleats
And towels and bug spray and sunscreen and stamps
And shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste and sheets.
They need rain gear and sleeping bags, books and canteens,
A laundry bag, backpack and socks,
Plus sweatshirts and jackets and underwear (lots!)
And their sneakers and rain boots and Crocs.
Of course there are bathing suits, t-shirts and shorts
And sweatpants and PJ’s and fleece,
But there are no iPads or Switches or phones
So some wonders, I guess, never cease.
The days spent at camp will fly quickly until
All that stuff gets repacked to go home,
With some missing or ruined or filthy, but that
Is a topic for some future poem.
santa’s in a fix rudolph’s leg is snapped
tripped on a candy cane now the poor guy’s trapped
mrs claus is fuming elves are losing their cool
one slipped on tinsel and fell in the gift pool
how will they deliver the toys in the night
without rudolph’s bright nose guiding their flight
but then an elf shouts hey we’ve got a plan
we’ll strap some flashlights to dasher and stan
the sleigh takes off wobbling like a kite
with duct tape holding things way too tight
but somehow they manage gifts tossed left and right
merry christmas to all from this chaotic flight
Christmas Tizzy 12 lines or less Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
There are more phobias than you would believe
Some have names, others are a one-of-a-kind nameless fear
People have fear of werewolves, rats, snakes, and ghosts
Fear of long words, mirrors, hair, balloons, paper clips
Fear of belly buttons, vegetables, windshields, flashlights,
I try to see if there is a fear of baths; yes, there is.
Some of these fears might seem unrealistic and strange to you
Until you develop the same fear.
Oddly, I had no news on, at all today,
I just heard about your city’s early morning’s sway!
Having lived through earthquakes, I know that fear…
You wait for those afterschocks, that’s so very clear!
Keep flashlights and all electronics charged.
God watches over you, he is your best guard!
I do remeber building swaying to and fro.
But there really was no place at all to go.
And when an afterschock comes in the night,
It rolls you in bed, from left to your right
From your NoCal neighbor.
Love and Prayers, gear piets!
Pangie
9/12/2024
@ Panagiota Romios
I was at a concert.
A song played.
We turned our phone flashlights and waved them,
And as I looked across the stadium,
I saw three lights bouncing a certain way.
I started bouncing along with them,
And we were bouncing together.
I looked somewhere else in the stadium,
And I saw that three more lights
Had started to bounce.
We were bouncing together.
I don't know who you are.
But you saw me.
And I saw you.
We were bouncing together.
A rusted breeze ripens with early frosts
Ill-fated trees wilt begetting their loss
Rich fermented decay's putrified bloom
Bidding farewell to the song of the loon
The belching pond spurts summers spoil
Bird nests crumble leaving traces of toil
Flowers tilling soil with seeds for new growth
All of life is taking a dying oath
The spreading fire of the evening sun
Blazes in drenched horizons faraway
As days get shorter, and stars have more fun
Popping on flashlights in the milky way
Autumn-extraneous-harmonious
Ceremonious-Testimonios
Let’s go back to that.
Telling stories,
teaching each other
how to play a guitar,
showing tricks
and playing games.
Sleepovers,
makeovers,
dancing and baking.
Building forts,
picking flowers.
Having power outages
and bringing out candles.
Using flashlights just for fun.
Let's go back to that.
To taking time.
Flying in twilight like
fairies bearing tiny
flashlights which constantly
flicker on and off, this
family of bugs are
factually beetles -
fascinating to me!
Sturgeon Moon
So soon
Summer slips through our fingers
Our own version of Michigan underwater beasts
Ogling the luminous bellies of boats swimming down Clam River
Dockside a roar with Ahab revelers
I have seen millions of moons
Leaping on the midnight ripples of Torch Lake
I have seen hills and pointes that darkly roll and rise
Inviting levitation
A cheer from our bow
Fireball shot
Looks like home but isn’t
We float down the shore with flashlights
I have seen a picture taken at the lakeside campfire
My wife and I
Standing in the gaps of our four sitting children
Six orange hooded faces
Without bodies
Eyes round as owls
Looking out from the tree of life
I cup my mouth with astonishment.
out electricity went off
no TV
no internet
no lights
no computer
no TV
We live in an underground house
it is blood black here
I flip flashlights on along the way
use my fingers to make puppets on the ceiling
my husband rallies for a second
thinking the lights have returned
he is an optimist, but without a TV set now
our hundred and fifteen pound puppy is whimpering
She has never been inside the house without a TV talking
we travel to the porch in a pack, my husband, two dogs and I
It is a monsoon out here, a monsoon in Kansas
I want to warm up a piece of pie
but the microwave won’t work
or the oven
thunder rumbles in from the west
the rain sounds like hail now
we have been without TVs or computers for eighteen minutes
How much more can we stand?
*This one is for Tom Cunningham
Poor Santa ate too many treats
Then clogged the toilet at the pole
The sewer exploded into the streets
Where Santa fell down a hole!
The Elves are trying to get him out
The Grinch is laughing in glee
All Santa can do is shout
It’s too dark for them to see!
Let’s hope they find Rudolph’s bright nose
Flashlights aren’t bright enough
I heard pipes have also froze
And well, presents are covered with stuff!
It should be breaking news soon
Maybe keep children away from TV
Take them out to see the moon
For something else to see!
Prayers for Santa’s return and relief
7 days yet, to make things right
Keep up celebrating with belief
And to all a very good night!
Heidi Sands
12/18/22
Stars ring out;
the night sky sings tonight.
The land listens like a wolf,
I listen like a wolf.
Maybe it's just he crisp air
making my ears ring,
maybe the stars are as mute as usual.
Maybe the land is just land?
Yet why do my eyes gleam so bright
they seem like celestial flashlights
piercing the heavens?
How come my ears prick up
as if I were a wolf,
And why (most strange of all),
is my heart howling
but quietly,
howling ever so quietly.
At night in the prairies,
on the savanna,
the plow harrowed land,
or the scrub and brush
of sparse hunting grounds,
creatures are illumined
by a shimmering fear.
Trepidation ignites dark niches;
blood shines.
Fox and rabbit
watch in their sleep,
in their tunnels;
both sense each other
through a voltage of fur.
They are electric,
those that are hid by a shaded moonlight
are lit by a light that consumes itself.
Eyes are flashlights,
minds openly hunt or hole up,
all watch for the dire
glimmer of danger.
Closely concealed or at a distance
all follow the trace of a searching scent,
all share the body-heat of the chase,
or the quick pounce
of a breath-snatching find.
Hidden flashlights
And hushed voices
Open windows
Scared of small noises
Sitting on rooftops
Not to leave but to stay
Grounding myself
So my mind isn’t in the way
My body shaking
Ridden with cold
Refusing to go in
The feeling never gets old
Finally returning
To a warm waiting place
It seems so different
From my cold safe space
Huddled under blankets
Hidden in extreme measures
But they can never take away
My small simple pleasures
The hunter is inside
between the lens and its mirror
where Zen masters prowl
with high powered flashlights.
The prey is sensed
before it takes shape,
otherwise you catch nothing.
You are in the zone,
mind locked on a digital trigger.
Sometimes
the whole world stampedes
across your path,
more often,
a small curlicue of significance
will trip a sensory wire,
cross-hairs will meet,
then for an instant you disappear
as you take the shot.
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