Mother is eighty-seven now
still spry, sometimes naughty,
espousing wisdom from her brow,
her speech never bawdy.
She always dried my tears,
She always calmed my fears,
She always cleaned up smears.
Softly sing a lullaby,
Mother will be leaving nye.
For: QUIETUS (Jan 2022 edition) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Syllable count checked at SyllableCounter.net
January 25, 2022
Always Undeniable
What I realize is always UNDENIABLE;
With all of the rules should be compliable,
And also truly trusted;
Off my poems dusted;
End up dependent upon as well as reliable.
Jim Horn
I am kind of on a limerick
kick right now. My new
goal is to write 4,000
poems and hope someone
can make use of them
Undeniably and Knowingly Bill Nye.
Have you ever been overcome by a book before
While wondering what next for us is in store
Darwin did say be strong avoiding infection
While recognizing each use of natural selection.
What I will do is frequently and on always rely
Is Bill the Science Guy who we can never deny
Who we determined without a doubt is reliable
What he always said was completely undeniable.
Each day may be determined to end up nigh
But never or ever will Bill the science guy.
Jim Horn
"Undeniable" by Bill is completely,
utterly incredible, so simple and easily
redable (readable). I would say
it was written on a ninth grade
level of thinking.
NATURE by Jeanette Jones based on the Portrait No. 2 of Carol Nye Rhoades (Robinson) by Kathrine Nash Rhoades (1915)
NATURE
My feet, my feet chilled to the bone,
as I sit, sitting here alone.
Sharpening itself, the wind embraced;
slicing a piece of me, starting at my face.
Think not of cold, only hot, I say.
Now, I can’t move, can’t move, can’t you see;
the coldness of the wind’s gotten the best of me.
The ambiances of skies at my back
cautions me for more is to come
as Winter will turn to Spring.
My feet, my feet aching to the bone
as I sit, sitting here alone.
Sharpening itself, the storm embraced;
Slicing a piece of me, starting at my face.
Think not of wet, only dry.
Now I can’t move, can’t move, can’t you see;
the influence of the storm’s gotten the best of me;
A new season calls once again, Winter to Spring,
then Summer to Fall; everlasting love,
my face bares it all.
NATURE based on the Portrait No. 2 of Carol Nye Rhoades (Robinson) by Kathrine Nash Rhoades (1915) – (Edited by Debbi Guzzi
My feet, my feet chilled to the bone,
as I sit, sitting here alone.
Sharpening itself, the wind embraced,
Slicing a piece of me, starting at my face,
Think not of cold, only hot, I say.
Now, I can’t move, can’t move, can’t you see,
the coldness of the wind’s gotten the best of me.
The frameless skies at my back,
embraces me for more of to come
as Winter will turn to Spring.
My feet, my feet aching to the bone
as I sit, sitting here alone.
THIS ENDING WAS INADVERTENTLY OMITTED WHEN SUBMITTED (NOT EDITED)
Sharpening itself, the storm embraced,
Slicing a piece of me, starting at my face,
Think not of wet, only dry.
Now I can’t move, can’t move, can’t you see,
The influence of the storm’s gotten the best of me;
A new season calls once again, Winter to Spring, then Summer to Fall, everlasting love on my face bares it all.
In my old calendar
her yesterdays-
in tears I reminesce
to where my girlzz at--
we got no memories to revise
just revive and recognize--
our partying dayz,
our girly wayz,
the morning haze,
the beach laze,
boys to gaze,
not givin' namez,
and how we amaze,
with nothing to faze us...
now lets hear the yayz!
hahaha!!!
to my "homies"...
er, Chicago's hot ladies ;-)
Hope you raise some ruckus and have fun, NYE!