snore and I will strangle you ! she would .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 10–16, 2026)
I arrived there in morning hours oh so very wee
And staked mine a place, from whence I wouldn’t flee
Savage winds blew cold against my frozen face
My vision blurred of sleet and snow as they interlace
And with their needled impact against my icy skin
My precarious situation was finally sinking in.
I knew my frozen fingers had turned a shade of blue
But I dared not look for confirmation of their hue.
For from that confirmation, were I to so engage,
My soul would fill with anger and mind be filled with rage.
Occasionally, shuffling sounds of cold impatient feet
Could be heard above the sounds of driving snow and sleet
And other souls about me, were just about to drop
When Walmart’s doors opened up and we could CHRISTMAS SHOP!
How’s your finger?
How’s your rib?
These are words I don’t ad lib
How’s your backache?
How’s your knee?
Would you read this, I can’t see
Pass the sugar, no, best not
Off my meds now, I forgot!
Where’s the salt, oh, yes I know
Hid it, so it wouldn’t show
I can make it, park the car
Twenty feet, that’s not too far!
Vitamins?, I just took two!
Love to eat but I can’t chew
Perils of a ripe old age
Spiced by memories and sage
None-the-less, I’m here to stay
Hope at least for one more day!
Ponds shiver beneath the ice,
whispers of frozen paradise.
Oh, so daring, with much vigilance,
he crawls on the ice with a frozen dance.
From climbing a slippery slide,
to surfing down a mountainous tide.
Ice protests, in bumps on his ride,
as he fumbles forward, in frosty freight.
Caught in the pond's icy grip,
where he thought the ice was firm, no slip,
but with a quiet scream, a gentle slash,
SPLASH.
In the wrath of chill,
he had thought,
ever so shaken, ever so still:
“Oh, how terribly fun this had been.”
I skipped my knitting group two weeks ago
alas, I had zero progress to show.............
But I explained (it did fascinate her)
knowing I'm a big procrastinator ;-)
Once there were rules on which we all agreed
Red meant stop; green meant go; as for yellow --
O.K., some thought it meant 'speed' ...
But now I'm not sure with what I see on the streets
Where on red they go ahead when no one's there
and on green, cars accelerate, go on a tear...
The screech of brakes to let an old-timer cross
turns my heart to tomato sauce
And the honking at pedestrians with smart phones
I shut my eyes and open them slowly
Are they yet walking? ~ or do they lie prone?...
O, for village life back in 1923
dirt roads with horses or donkeys
and the bank President's black Model T...
I looked back, all smiles,
At my perils trailing miles,
‘Too early, dear mate’,
They said, ‘you had better wait,
We have a stockpile of wiles.’
___________________________
Tanka |02.04.2022|
Poet’s note: Thank perils that life feels alive. They provide life with vim, vigour, and drive. Upon triumphing over a few perils, never mock at them. This Tanka has a rhyme scheme of a limerick.
which hue of the fragrance delights
determined as nectar sublime
peak from which we wouldn’t alight
stretching therein the flow of time
the aspect within us that clings
attempting to seize and possess
creates a pulse that sorrow brings
self-blocking the divine caress
movement life and stagnation death
thus as we embrace and release
evade ego onslaught in stealth
flowing on with nonchalant ease
10-July-2021
The light that lights the sun
Shines within our glowing heart
Cognised when we come all undone
Whereupon bliss ignition within us starts
Eternal noumenon manifesting phenomena
Innate aliveness screen of awareness
In silence no longer an enigma
As light of consciousness
Light that from within radiates
Unable to behold it’s luminescence
Save through mirrors in stillness sedate
Clear light shines upon meditative innocence
Moon beauteous softens the suns bright light
Making the source of light itself envious
For the sun lacks as yet inner sight
Of its own luminosity oblivious
Fish in the river feels thirsty
How then may we fulfil its longing
Koans and parables dislodge serenity
Thus deluded earth entity keeps on weeping
Ominous darkness under the light of a candle
Illusion having no independent existence
Yet shadows get on mind a handle
Urging light to pay penance
11-April-2021
Breastfeeding Perils
I watched you take your first breath
And open your sleepy eyes
Your trembling lip and clinched little fist
Never a mother could resist
From head to toes with your thick white coating
Soon rubbed clean and a warm blanket did cover
Placed on my breast to feast on the milk
But silly you turn away like its buttermilk
You spit and you sputter
And wrinkle your nose and cry
So what must I do to make you happy my child
What have I done to get you so riled?
The lights are dimmed
As you snuggle so close
Soon this first time mom with learn what to eat
To make my milk not sour but sweet.
A year has passed since that glorious day
When you played finicky
Now you grab with your two little choppers
Seems you have developed a taste for jalepeno poppers
Dog demands attention and food.
Loves to be petted.
Rolls around on the floor like a pig in slop.
Legs in the air.
My husband claps.
I clap.
Her one trick.
She is the only baby who still lives with us.
The perils of being in our sixties.
Foils and perils
Horrifying and terrible
Well documented after the fact
Misunderstood totally at the time
Fouls and perils
Shoved to the back of your mind
To be brought out and made fun
During family gatherings
Our phone has rung six times in an hour.
The same speech.
A robot offering us senior services.
We have asked them not to call us.
On call four they said we would be taken off their list.
Calls five and six were real people
Saying they were from Senior Services.
The perils of being on a list of oldsters
We will not be surprised to get calls seven and eight.
We sit here staring at the phone.
Disappointed because we both have our
Hands ready and the onslaught has seemed to stop.
Repeat tomorrow night.
Sixth day in a row.
Perils of having a birthday in
The fifties
I'll tell you a tale when Texas was young
When women were scarce and horse thieves were hung.
His name was Jake and he was six feet nine -
Rode down from Kansas with rustlin' in mind
Re-branded some Longhorns, all he could see
Sun was still up when he hung from a tree
He was a big man, he's in a big hole
"God bless Texas and damn this rustler's soul"
3-11-19
Contest:March 19 Eight Lines Max
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I arrive at work early, hoping to get some poetry posted.
Dum, dee, dum, dee, dum, dee, dum, dee, dumb.
I am across from the sign in sheet, and everybody has a
problem today.
They enter one at a time, until it gets busy, then they
enter two at a time.
The perils of being popular at work.
I do not mind. I can write poetry any day.
Today they need me.
I have to push through them to get
out, so I can do my car line duty.
There are six of them somehow in my
tiny doorway. Excuse me! Excuse me!
They have started a little coffee club
without rolls or coffee.
I think it is wonderful they
have forgotten I am even here.
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