~ “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” ~
~ FDR, 1933
Even though I am no FDR
And I do not want to start a war
I do think there is something to fear beside fear
That something is Almighty God, please lend me an ear
He loves us, and we should love Him
But without fear, there’s no such thing as sin
And if our only appeal is to logic or man’s reason
War will be Peace, Truth – Lies, Patriotism – Treason
In fact, it seems the world is almost there now
Time to get back to fearing God again, somehow
Quicksand has not been on my mind
for decades, neither have brass knuckles
a pillow by any other name is a bureaucrat’s sword
pensive, dormant even in elevator shaft #11
o, frustration, o the itch to do it all now
O, ambivalence, o, vacillation
O, marination, o intimation, O cruise vacation
O litigation, o fraternization, o Hi o
(Did I win the prize? I hope so. Do you think
I can possibly be writing for pleasure?)
O, Portia, where art thou now?
I often feel that you are still here,
bringing laughter and so much cheer.
Your Limericks like a news reel.
You are still here, I often feel.
A dose of fun every day.
Some had current affairs at play.
All had humor, many a pun.
Every day a dose of fun.
Rico so many miss your rhyme.
I was the subject of your last time
That's why I offer a tribute like this.
Your rhyme Rico, so many miss.
"Sweet sleeping child: so near, so far"
Little face-feathers:
eyelashes fall on your cheeks,
fringing sleepy eyes.
A thick, glass globe
Sat on display
One must not touch
It’s not for play
But seven years
Had made me wise
I’d witnessed magic
With my own eyes
A Christmas film
Or shopping mall
While others shook
I watched in awe
But in my den
It sat, perched high
A ball of joy
To catch one’s eye
Far from reach
It tempted me
One day I climbed
Just to see
I vowed to view
An inch away
I would not touch
It’s not for play
But as I neared
The seventh shelf
My fingers brushed
Across my elf
In that moment
All magic died
For he was plastic
With painted eyes
He was bought
From the store
I saw the spot
His tag was tore
I believed him real
Until that day
When I found out
It’s just for play
The past blinks
The future winks
The present links
~ Historians ink
Entry in > 7 Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Date: July 29, 2025
Everything was ready for Christmas Day.
New toys were wrapped for the children to play.
We had all decorated the Christmas Tree.
Gifts in pretty paper were placed carefully.
The stockings were hung.
We had rehearsed carols to be sung.
We were all snug in bed.
The children wishing it was morning instead.
When suddenly Father ran out in the snow.
For what, we could not guess and did not know.
He brought in a plant and hung it over the door.
Soon he was back in bed and had started to snore.
What did he get that was missing?
Big brother said Father must have been dreaming of kissing.
Ah now we all know,
It was mistletoe.
Merry Christmas to all- We are having a good night.
When someone can forego
her id and ego
publishing poems of her friends
to heal those on the mend
Her name, of course, our very own
a most gracious lady ~ Karen Jones
_______________________________
Check out Karen's description of her
'What Makes Me Smile 2' contest,
and you'll see what I mean!
Bravo, Karen!
All over the couch and floor
Hair, There and Everywhere
Whoever lost it sure must be sore ...
Hey, what’s this? Where’s my hair?
Guess it just plain disappeared
It’s hard to get ahead in life
~ when your feet are on backward
They say laughter is the best medicine
~ but ‘they’ never had broken ribs
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickle peppers
~ What an idiot!
Weep no more, my lady
~ Ladies are so 19th century
~ Inspired by Rick Parise's contest ~
'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'
~ so is a wooden nickel
__________________________
Entry in 'Two Line Quote' contest
Sponsor: Rick Parise
March 24, 2025
You must not be a teacher my dad said
A teacher can’t afford a loaf of bread
So I just bounced all around
From job to job, town to town
Got a teaching job after dad was dead
Entry in 'A 5-Liner on Your Life' contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Date: March 13, 2025
Being alone is an amethyst art
Gift to the soul searching dark
Mahogany moments
Shaping reality despite chaos or peace
Pearl perception of reality red from
blood of dead dreams
that will rise like a purple phoenix
inside blue breast
Walking in spirit with ancient ancestors
yet alone in the Streets of solitude
Fire in eyes
forgiving the lies
of whimsical fairy tales
That once spun hope
Like a golden thread
Around amber head
Ideals that float
like glowing halo
Keeping character afloat
Despite a sinking black hole
Left in the street to trap
Those who seem to nap
Sleep walking on the path
Sleeping Beauty is an example
Fairytale of slumber sampled
By a cherry kiss on lips
Is to die for or to live
If Prince never comes
what gives
rainbows inside to exist
Whether the field of forgiveness has been watered or not
Be the rose that grows
Through concrete streets with heart
Determined to thrive despite odds
With a scent of salvation a street soldier for God
Truth be told I don’t have many
Truths…that is
My beliefs have changed
Over the years
Not always for the better
According to some
Who hold their “truths” paramount.
I tell those people
“I am what you made me”
It’s been said that
I have no filters
Will say whatever runs
Screaming through my mind
My parry and thrust
Usually involves subtle
Quixotically imbued ideas
As I bear scars from battling windmills.
I have learned to
Question the question
Question the questioner
Question why they asked
That question
In that way
At that time
I also learned from my dogs
“sniff it, if it stinks
Don’t bother to chew on it”
I haven’t mastered the licking thing
But I do clean up after myself.
A faded photo of his father
all that’s left of the man
A centerpiece in his son’s home
on the mantle it stands
The creases in the photo
match those on his face
His legacy, hard labor
~ lifelines to trace
September 15, 2024
Letters or Photographs Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Ink Empress
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