She had talked her uncle into being her money patron at last.
He encouraged her to purchase skeins of yarn; it was a blast!
She kept telling him that she was making something for him.
She would have one idea, then go off on another whim.
Have you finished anything? He asked her after sixteen years.
That she was only wasting his yarn money was one of his fears.
So, she came out wearing a hat with skeins of yarn on her head.
Speechless was her former patron, her annoyed Uncle Ted.
Sorry dear patron
The credits have now rolled and stopped
and the screen curtains have come down
This afternoon's matine performance
is over and done
Unfortunately that for you means it's
time to leave
The cleaning staff now have a job to
do clean up the auditorium to make
it ready for this evenings show
Thanks for coming so glad you
enjoyed yourself
If you l liked it so much may I remind
you we put on 2 performances and
begin again at 6 again
But until then as I said before for
you my friend it's time to go
He was flaming when he alighted in my mind
I was horrified, not realizing I had a talent
You have two he informed me
And I am the patron judge of both
I decided to look him up later
Pay attention! He said.
You are to write; I rolled my eyes.
And paint! He said this with a mean glare.
I was terrified; wondering if I had lost my mind.
Begin! He commanded.
I began to jot scribbles onto a pad.
He tore them up. Made me begin over and over.
Finally said “Let’s start with painting”.
I was relieved I did not have a single drop of paint.
Dusk mourns the death of Sol, with scarlet tears:
as a crimson sun slowly disappears.
And Luna rises in a starlit sky,
while Venus and Mars bid daylight goodbye.
Nature's a muse and patron of the arts;
whose natural talent touches our hearts.
Sunrise morphs into a phenomenon
as pastel pigments paint the birth of Dawn.
Fringed by vivid strokes of a purple hue,
cotton candy pink smears robin egg blue.
And sunrise gilds clouds, with a golden tint;
as darkness fades, like yesterday's footprint.
Ebony, paying homage to His light:
Sol frees colors imprisoned by the Night.
And Dawn morphs into a kaleidoscope,
confettied with all the colors of hope.
she moves slower but not her smile
her heart speaks in rhythmic sage
her umbrella is her hands of praise
accepting a bouquet of flowery rain
5/11/2019
No one ever had a more devoted super patron.
He marveled at every painting and poem I thought up.
He cheered at each of my gaudy crazy color choices,
He toasted all my thoughts with a golden glass tribute cup.
He wanted to buy all, the first time I had a white arts and crafts carnival tent.
I was against this of course, wanting a chance to sell to others, to share my soul.
This life is not yours, he said, you are more sensitive, artistic, heaven-sent.
But I wanted to sell to excited children, and their mothers, that was my goal.
My marvelous patron talked me into selling online, and that worked out for a bit.
I was gleeful and happy and awhirl with joy with each sale, so tried and true.
But when I went to visit him, and saw each painting in his home, I threw a hissy fit.
I wanted to sell to others, I said, I didn’t want all of them to be sold to you.
Now when I sell a painting or a poem, I run home all aquiver, excitedly glad.
Sales always chase away any insane feelings of disappointment or unexpected gloom.
I have a patron who believes in me, a man who is honest, and never a cad.
Best of all, to deliver it, all I have to do is walk to my own living room.
To be a patron of your art,
In waking, sleeping play a part,
In one sweet dream, God dreams for you;
Though not my will, but His, be true.
And if by chance I see your face,
Or find a dream inside your space,
Where art and poems overlap?
Perchance my poem finds your lap!
Then let me die for bliss like this
Is never found in lover's kiss!
To touch a soul is like fine wine,
What need have I for Valentine,
But ponder this (days you feel blue)
My heart's a place with room for you!
Long Tooth
Jan 15, 2018
Copper in color and also by name
Was this fuzzy warm patron of canine fame
Wandering the grounds that were right next door
He loved to walk the boards of a little country store
The occasional stranger with
a smile and a treat
And the everyday favorites he waited to greet
A wag and a smile for all who could see...
He was simply God's patron of humanity
He blessed this little place of a little part of life
And now this one corner is a little less bright
Though loss is confusing and painful to man
It's just a tiny part of a great big plan
So look to the skies when they're copper at night
And you'll feel the warmth of a life so bright
Then the comfort will come as you realize more...and more
He now walks the boards of a brighter country store
- for Copper...a loveable old golden retriever
(Dedication: This poem is for My Dear Patron who bought me
a 1-year premium membership. I say: "Thank You" to my
Anonymous patron and friend for this very kind gesture.)
Thank you so much
For your kind touch;
Thank you dear friend
For this fine spend.
I just wrote verse
A new outburst;
Saw Premium star
With mind ajar!
So now I sit
With word and wit:
Fond gratitude,
My attitude.
Dear unknown friend:
My day and trend,
You made me sigh
With brand new high.
I will write more
With words like spores
To make you proud
In rhymes not loud.
Like times of old
When poesy bold,
A patron cause
Steered poet and course!
Thanks once again
For gift made plain;
Your gesture shows
A sparkling glow.
And as words come
To hurl new psalm,
Please let me say,
Your faith now stays.
I sign off now
With kind endow
With grateful heart
With lovely start.
Sincerely here,
I "Thank You" Dear
Anonymous,
For graciousness.
Leon Enriquez
15 Mar 2014
Singapore
Paint me Saintly, my actions lately
Have shown such cause a'plenty
My Quarters stately, my Morals greatly
Unfazed by thoughts of many
Still in search of the Peace I've wanted-
Looking, tracking; intent to find!
But by my former self I am haunted,
Lurking not more than two feet behind...
Shamrocks
Covered in green
Irish dances what scene
Little men with black hats
Rolling around laughing on their backs
“Erin go brah” to you I say
No one can do it like the Irish this day
A mug of green beer
For good times and cheer
And Fiddle here
A fiddle there
Irish step dancing everywhere
A day of remembering culture and prayer
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you my dear
A day that Ireland came clear
Lucky of the Irish
to all that share.