Prepping Poems

Vacation

We're going on vacation 
Words innocent and pure
Visions of sun and beaches 
Are conjured up for sure

The marketers are genius
At portraying family bliss
A carefree family skipping
Through waves not to be missed

But just below the surface 
Lurk undertones of woe
The preparations necessary
Belay the surface glow

The focus turns to prepping
The job, the house the yard
The feeding of the pets
The domicile to guard

And then there is the packing
The lists, and lists of lists
And luggage bulging at the seams
I think you get the gist

And finally departure
On crowded roads no less
Who turned off the oven
We fret and try to guess

Perpetual construction
And hours of sitting still
Are we there yet yell the children
It's pure parental hell

So if you didn't need one
When planning this vacay
You certainly do now
I hope it goes your way!

A Poem

A poem should
explain itself -- 
define what it
is – at the poem’s
prepping, by the poet 
done all the required 
kneading

whether healing or
bleeding, a poem
should be its own 
hunger or feeding -- 

should stand alone
clear-day, or cloud 
seeding -- 

In conclusion – poems 
should require only
a reader reading….

School Bus Driver

On many a workday morning,
I sit at my kitchen table and
watch the BIRDS lite on electric
lines, or listen to their sweet 
chirps from the treetops.

I watch the SUN rising over the
horizon, and in early Fall, I observe
the green FIELDS of harvest slowly
yielding their bounty. Left behind after
a few weeks of sweat and toil is a sea
of brown SOIL prepping for the Spring.

I will often feel the earth rumbling
beneath my feet from a passing TRAIN
rushing her huge and heavy cargo
to markets both North and South.

It won't be long before I'll witness
with joy the MIGRATING BIRDS flying
South to survive the cold of Old Man Winter.

In my own mind, I am overwhelmed by the sheer
commonality of all the above. Indeed, they are all
so very faithful in executing their God-given task.

Moreover, presently, I am most impressed and find
myself musing over the faithfulness of a person behind
the wheels of a big yellow bus with bright and flashing
lights. She's a SCHOOL BUS DRIVER who with great
dedication, passes my home every school-day morning
at 7 AM. I tell you; her punctuality inspires me.
And her employer should be proud of her.

Rhythms of the Night

The rhythms of the night
Sounds of a dark symphony
A mysterious cacophony
Sends chill up and down the spine
Shadows chase the light of a full moon
Across meadow and forest green
No stranger to nocturnal life
Where life plays it’s game of opportune

The voices of the night 
Many and strange they may be
As the majestic screech owl in flight
And the fox howls beneath the pines
Night creatures scrambling in search of food
For themselves and their kind in nest and den
Ever willing to take a blind chance
To survive Mother Nature’s food chain

The noises of the night
The yelps, screams, the flapping wings
Sound so vicious ‘til the break of light
When the sun chases the dark away 
And the dawn brings a freshness of calm
Welcomed as a consoling balm
And finds some respite from all the fright
That’s found in the noises of the night

The choruses of the night
An eclectic choir of ancient song
As from winged angels in hasty flight
Prepping swamp and forest again
Continuing the cycle of life
That most never fully understand
For it’s not easy to hear in daylight
The insistent rhythms of the night

From the Still of the Night

       In the still of the night,  
I become intoxicated with the moon's soft light, 
the view of Roxy Anne, City Lights.  
Whispers of the wind caress my lampogen,  
I let her back into my skin.
as I let my thoughts unravel, within I am drunk in; 

each breath
Petraglyphs a dance, each sigh a song prepping for romance. 
In this moment, I truly belong 
where Time stands still, in this tranquil space, 
my cup I fill-
as I lose myself in her gentle embrace,
distilled amoress.
Life draws me onto her milky page 
as the night slowly slips away,  
I carry this feeling into the light of day.  
For in the fill of the night,  
I find my soul laying upon her canvas spotlight,
may she never dry up or fade,
or cease being my muse-ment park and 
sight seeing eighties and nineties Valley Girl babe. Perhaps she can romantically teleport us back to lovers/memory lane.

Before The Sun's Pieces

Before the sun's pieces,
Shine on brim's, coffee mug;
And with my prepping airs—
It's all jeopardy to 
Roll frost in bed somewhere.

Before the sun's pieces,
Rain in a golden chain.
I pine at streaked window.
How bitter is the fog
From where night morn dreams go.

Before the sun's pieces,
Ice below the outside,
In a bristling gesture—
God, now I see in you
Past my bleak reflections.

Before the sun's pieces,
While dawn is watched by moon,
Sun has the grace to gleam—
He'll come in the long fade,
For his Moon maiden, seen.

An Autumn Aloha

Ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Fanning breath stirs the heavily laden;
transforms and redraws like playful charades,
prepping, and grooming, all the misshapen.

A pastor's mural paints pure from trespass,
ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Prismatic design grounds tell-tale stained glass
and forest steeples are Redwood's crusades.

Kids taking the plunge, multihued cascades,
succumb to trampling and crushing horseplay.
Ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades,
the bejeweled waits: Sunday's white bouquet.

Awe striking vista blessing amble eyes,
bounteous nostalgia praising persuades.
Peace thine harmonious artwork baptize,
ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.

A Weightloss Journey - a Life Changing Dream

Shortness of breath, the struggle with stairs
The paranoid thoughts, of judgemental stares

Tomorrow I'll start, next week I will too. 
The person you're fooling can be only you.

You carry on, each day just the same.
Every week again and again

No planning, no prepping, just take and away.
Spiralling down, delay underway 
Hoping and dreaming, I'll do this one day!

One month later, a burger, a pie
Feeling low, as life passes by
Outstretched clothes, low confidence too
It's now your decide to do this for you!

You take to the web, to find nearest group
Hoping and praying "Please not only soup"!

The hardest part? First step through the door. Always remember, who you're doing this for.

You meet all the members and go through the plan.
At this point you realise, "Oh yes I can".

Now weighing and measuring, healthy A & B
The change is incredible for all to see.

The feeling of pride, the spring in your step.
It's now you can't wait for what life brings next.

Goose Stepping

I'm falling too far behind,
Out of breath and flying blind.
Heavy fog, it's hard to see,
But know the flock's in front of me.

Just striving to do my best,
Gotta catch up with the rest 
So surprised I've flown this far,
Now up ahead, there they are!

Landing on a Chrystal lake,
Feel my mind and body ache.
Safe ashore and now we're prepping,
For waddling and goose-stepping.

Up On the Roof

On the rooftop I hear a peck peck peck 
from a black bird tapping at a hard steel roof 
on the lawn a little rabbit is grazing  the grass 
all this, before the sun even has a chance to blare 

The keys on my board go click click click 
from a distance I view the waking trees 
and type away, by a newborn light 
all this, while I drink my morning coffee

The flush of a toilet he is up and about 
from my room I can hear him shaving and prepping 
we are leaving for the beach soon 
all this and then more, when I get to the shore, 

there will be shells to pick and water to adore 
we have our sun hats on and we are off   
together we are ready to explore
the naturous beauty that God has so lovingly bestowed.

The Pun Fun In Funeral With a Little Onion Breath

In prepping for a funeral 
The family gathered in the hall
They sat there all mourning
Even though it was nightfall

He had eaten lots of vegetables
Yet, he passed on in his suite
Must have still had too much sugar 
And not enough heart beets

A farmer by trade, he grew 
Not just beets but onions too
When he passed, they cut his crops
And cried all the way through

They made his favorite cheese as well
A batch to honor him that day
His athlete niece, age nineteen, fell
Now there’s pro teen in the whey

Onions served at the will reading
One son got more than his share
“Yes, I see”, said the executor
I can smell it in the heir

“Woof” exclaimed his trusty dog
“This situation is certainly tough.
Although I’m sad about my human
These jokes were pretty ruff…..”

Prepping For Spam

He blunders around grocery stores.
Impulse buying - compelling.

Back home
he looks at the bagged,
wonders why,
wonders
if he will also charge around
tomorrow.

The larder, the pantry
the stacked cans
of all kinds of Spam

gleam untouched
but one day -
you never know.

Autumn's Coming

Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
That's because she tones things down, not up.
Heat starts its demise, having played its songs.
Cold is restless, but Autumn stares back and keeps her calm.

Autumn informs the trees, preparing them for color changes.
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
Cameras are prepping, and the leaves on the trees are salivating,
because they know that they will be proudly staging before long.

Monarch butterflies are enjoying their summer, but it won't be long
now before they start setting their compass south toward Mexico.
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.
But the Birds are anticipating their long flight south.

Summer sometimes gets unruly and hangs around too long.
When that happens, Autumn has to appeal to their father.
The Lord then reminds Summer that her season is over.
Autumn is not likely to come with bells and whistles.

081722PSCtest, Hint of Autumn, Regina McIntosh

Between the Ups and Downs

Between the ups and downs there is
A place that’s smooth and flat
And that is where, for most of us,
Our lives are mainly at.

So many choose to fix it up
As cozy as a nest,
Creating a retreat as an
Escape when we are stressed.

Or just a place to pass the time
While waiting for the highs,
Or prepping for the worst so lows
Won’t come as a surprise.

The ups and downs don’t last too long 
And when they’ve left the scene,
It’s comforting returning to
The place that’s in-between.

Rippled Layers of Agate

I remember in her eyes the color of Christmas day 
and the taste of melted butter in the early morning sun 
The cadence of her voice the undertone sounds
 of her silences,  it was long ago 

She was a matriarchal mountain of energy back in days
when her hair was red and her cheeks were pummeled pink 
Decadent cakes for Christ's birthday, accompanied by her own 
we ate cheerfully with eyes aglow

Then in the eve of midnight we unwrapped 
secrets of her hand me downs, a knitted family tree
prepping up  our dreams we slept without the know 
that Christmases of future, would hold no mistletoe 

I remember her eyes , two melting Chocolates  
and her laughter,  rippled layers of agate.

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