I hereby attempt to satisfy poplar demand
as best I possibly can…
Seeking more creative ways to stop porch thieves?
Here are some more in which to believe
Hang those dirty diapers on a clothesline
right above the package ~ this works just fine
For extra effect, make sure the diapers have been sitting in a pile
for quite a long while…
Here’s one that has those wannabee thieves running away
Post a ‘Beware of Skunk’ sign not far away
And this concludes my tips this time
for which I ask nothing, not one thin dime
Put a clothesline over my front steps
hung my sweaty athletic wear over there
Amazon delivered a package
placed it strategically, under that line
Porch thieves came and took just one sniff
~ on this one they all whiffed
Cold sweet tea
on a hot summer day.
The glass sweating
as the ice melts.
Good conversations
on the old front porch.
Grandpa’s stories
take me back in time.
For just a moment,
I’m a child again.
The porch was warm that summer night,
Fireflies buzzing, swift and bright,
a moment held in memory’s gentle sight~
the day still lives in me.
My granddad’s laugh, a low, sweet roll,
the kind that settled in my soul,
a sound that made my childhood whole~
the day still lives in me.
The scent of cedar in the air,
his calloused hand smoothing my hair,
a tenderness beyond earthly compare~
the day still lives in me.
And though the years have slipped away,
I feel that porch in every day,
its quiet grace still lights my way~
the day still lives in me.
Lune poetry form like a Haiku but this kind has 3 words, five words and three words
out on porch
leaky roof poor excuse cover....
umbrella open snuggle
Old rusty porch swing
holds on to memories
of those who have sat
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nibbles clutched the acorn like a tiny criminal mastermind,
whiskers trembling under the porch light's harsh interrogation.
"But officer, I am not a porch bandit," he squeaked,
gesturing wildly at the pile of stolen walnuts behind him—
"Those? Those were... uh... gifts! From a very generous tree!"
The flashlight beam did not look convinced.
not until I see the porch light you've left on, am I truly home
i sit by the porch
watching the ghosts f;y around
ivy hanging from the roof
and sun obscured by the fog
i sit by the porch
mourning all my losses-
'of dreams, people and memories',
that holds a knife on my throat
i sit by the porch
watching the ghosts fly around
i'm chained to a chair and
being forced to cry every november
Through My Porch Door Window. By Tania Kitchin
Vines cling to rusted rails
Glider, in crusted red
Sometimes there are loose nails
Faded and worn by time
Only hearts can accept
How destiny travails
Sittin’ on the porch past midnight,
With golden-glow tunes holdin’ us tight.
Singin’ soft, swayin’ slow,
To Patsy’s sweet southern soul.
You’ve got a Whiskey Sour, warm in hand,
I’ve got blueberry wine—bold and grand.
My blue dress billows, breathin’ free,
Like a moonlit melody on the midnight breeze.
Oh, the heat hums heavy in the air,
Your touch is tender, true, and rare.
I could fall to pieces, pulse unsteady,
But with you, love—I’m always ready.
So I’ll pray to Jesus, plead and pine,
That here in the hush of twilight time,
With soft-lit stars and steppin’ feet,
Our lips will lock, our hearts will meet.
Where the song spins, sways, and sighs,
A symphony of love under Southern skies.
Each note a whisper, each chord a fire,
A tune composed of true desire.
So holler high, don’t hush that sound,
You’re my chosen love, forever bound.
My moonbeam moment, my midnight flight,
My honeymoon glow in neon light.
Let go, let loose, let love be loud,
Shake off that pride, stand tall, stand proud.
Let fall the tears, they won’t rust your skin,
You can escape, love—let life begin.
weird bird sound
variation of a squawk whistle
it is camouflaged
no idea if this creature is from here or another planet
a gray moth lands on my pathetic-looking dog bed
she puts her wings together
I hit my hands together hard
trying to kill a mosquito
I miss
two bees hover
I hope they are honeybees
they are tiny so I am optimistic
they are not; they are bumbles
someone’s lawnmower is humming
Not the farmer next door
His is louder
the bumbles are walking across my porch
this seems odd
they are usually flying
who who who who
an owl?
not quite a hoot
whatever it is, it sooths me
nothing as wonderful as a morning on my porch
with a cup of coffee and a puppy
the evening is alive with promise
dogs lie on their porch, loving the breeze
chimes are tinkling in a happy manner
there are two sounds – the air conditioner and crickets
the wind picks up strength; leaves rustle
one dog’s head comes up; he gulps some wind
in the distance a dog barks. My two dogs are on their feet.
They run up the hill barking with serious intent.
The porch light comes on
as if to beacon strangers
for friend it lights a path to welcome
for thief it warns stay away in shadow
Attracts moths as they flutter into the brightness
as if the bright moon came to earth.
The porch light comforts as a nightlight for home
easing fears of dark outside, of the unknown.
Sleep well as night falls softly about
the porch light is on.
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