Decisions are much easier
When choices that you face
Are limited enough that you
Find one you can embrace.
For when so many options
Are presented, you might find
It all so overwhelming that
You’re really in a bind.
You weigh the pros and cons of each
And then you might get stuck
Or possibly be tempted
(If you can) to pass the buck.
I like when my selections
Narrow down to A or B,
Which makes making a decision
Much less filled with stress for me.
What do I reach for first? the rule of my land….
Pudding, and I quite honestly do not care what brand.
I love chocolate, caramel, and butterscotch too.
Adding whipped cream. M and M’s? Maybe a few.
I warm the pudding up in the microwave of course.
Remembering Mom’s pudding, it was such a sweet source.
If there is left over cake, I will put my pudding on that.
Pudding widens my smile, with a zip and a zap!
They have coconut cream now? What? You are kidding me!
Another snack, which brings my favorites to one, two and three.
Chocolate, and vanilla, wait, I love lemon pudding too!
If I had to narrow down the puddings, I would not know what to do.
Dear friend and poetess Connie Wong
wrote poetry as lovely as a song.
Reading others’ poems was her passion.
If words were clothes, she was always in fashion.
Sweet Carolyn Devonshire
was a poetess many could admire.
So generous was she
and also a good friend to me!
Sir David Austin, simply called Daver.
With me, his free verse was always in favor.
He joked that he was very old.
But it’s no joke his poems were gold!
Dec. 8, 2022
for Sotto Poet's Who Is Your Best Ps Poet Or Poetess Poetry Contest
Note: Sadly, I have no clue how I could ever find a picture of dear Daver.
I had to get the picture of Carolyn off the FB page of Constance La France. although I am sure Carolyn showed me a few recent photos before her death about two years ago, right now it's all I have. I will try to track a more recent one down! I decided to do my clerihews on deceased poets since there is no way I could ever narrow down my three "best" from the poets active here today!
I squint my eyes
Trying to narrow down
on how I feel
Is it melancholy?
Happiness
Tinged with sadness
Or it's a hue
Am I just feeling blue?
It's an odd feeling
Yet I am calmly settled as it washes across the shores of my mind
I am fascinated by it's visit
Wondering what it reflects
Or forebodes
hollow fingertips
sounds like this
one three top two
looking down
for
is
who
bandstand
out stranded
perilous hope
no such thing
time
eloped
her hand
was drawn
into
man hands
we seep sorrow
lay with me
drown
these
sorrows
tommorows
ive seen through
swinging rose
petal
glances
that made rose
wept its thoughts
on my Windows
soul
these words
sky spun shadows
letter arranged before
letters never sealed
open eyes over fire
eyelids escaping
hold me
here
in
my
cold
feel my breath
evade my bones
narrow down the throats
cuddle the bloodstream
of
poem
notes
swallow
linger grips
hollow fingertips
?
It rages still, that great dichotomy
among the puzzled ones
in search of one clear archetype
that marks reality; what is it...
every thing at all,
or nothingness?
Each opposite, a fodder
rich indeed to test for truth.
Each has its champions,
and each brings deep contempt.
So let us wallow with them;
It does not become us to demur.
Origins may be dismissed,
for thingness rides on creeds
too busily involved to narrow down
to a disinterested, non-theistic choice.
There must be higher ground
if grounds there be at all.
Of necessity, they lie
beyond our touch...or anyone's.
Blind, we are to sight and sense,
to logic, speculative formula
and even wild imagining
by ages yet to come.
Surely it is madness,
all this nothingness
that we are left to contemplate,
yet mind is unable to do that--
are we agreed?
That we are raving idiots
appears to be our single road.
It is too high a price for me.
I shall not pay, and cannot, of course.
I am devoid of reasons or their source;
happily bereft, it would appear,
even of myself.
~
Three lines from Sonnet 191: "The Waiting Sleep"
I'm drifting with the leaves as they change hue,
concealed among them as they fall to ground.
And as they crumble, I'll be crumbling too. . .
I could never really narrow down to just one
favorite poem or line, so I chose lines from a
sonnet giving my feeling about the 2nd phase
of my life: after 50! Above all things in a poem,
I appreciate imagery and this was me trying
to use unique imagery with personification.
For THE MOST IMPRESSIVE LINE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF ...
AND WHAT MAKES IT UNIQUE~ Poetry Contest BY P.D.
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