Three-quarters of a year is gone
For (snap your fingers), just like that!
September will, by morrow’s dawn,
Roll up and store the welcome mat.
October’s waiting in the wings,
Her pumpkins all prepared to go,
As autumn strides, with all it brings,
To set the foliage aglow.
Since Nature’s rules we must obey,
We’ll flip the calendar once more
And fill those boxes on display
With all the plans we have in store.
they are talking about fat quarters again
if you don’t know what they are, let me run this by you
thimble, needle, Elna, Singer, Brother, White
Could they be referring to astronauts?
If you think that, you are not a quilter
Fat quarters are blocks of fabric sold together
Could be plaids, polka dots, stripes,
But they have something in common, maybe color
There are a variety of quilt styles too
Log cabin, crazy, appliqued, wedding ring.
If you do not speak the language, get out of the sewing room.
We are here to quilt and gab and eat some lemon pie.
two quarters of moon
with loquacious eyes intent -
full-fledged love language
Janice set out a variety of fat quarter cottons
arranging and rearranging colors until she was happy
one brown she kept tossing out, then pulling back in
she loved making quilt decisions
she had a new pattern, old to many, new to her
have you started on it yet? Her sister asked.
sis did not sew, could not understand the delight in preparation.
Janice could not be hurried. This was a major project.
it would last her all winter. She was going to take her time.
almost done, she lied, to get her off her back.
Some times it's difficult to rhyme.
We are living in a interesting time.
Putin's war which won't relent,
nor will our "telepathic" ex-President..
Covid still making people sick.
Our information stolen with a click...
After watching the news, our economy
is going down the tubes..
Shortages in the food chain and here
comes another hurricane...
People scramble to our borders, so
stay at home and count you're quarters...
Boomers Prince or Pauper
David J Walker
Remembering when young
boomers knew
That a quarter really mattered
As juvenile consumers grew
The choices always flattered
Displayed in rows at
the corner store
The buying power pondered
A quarter could last
An hour or more
Before its value squander
Remember the times when
Quarters and dimes
Were at the root of children’s chatter
And now in tin pans and coffee cans
The pennies and nickels are scattered
Occasionally counted carefully
in stacks of silver and copper
remembering the value
that used to be the difference of a
prince or a pauper
If a nickel's worth a quarter and a quarter a fourth of a buck I have a dollar do I have any luck, did I mention man made recession~
10/17/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Sleeping Quarters
By David J Walker
The V for Vet designated the sleeping quarters
For the soldiers on the small-town cemeteries roster
I can only imagine what they might say to each other
at muster of the sunrise rollcall
The ones who fired squirrel guns across state lines
The ones who met the machine guns in France
The ones who chased the monster across the Rhyne
The ones who froze at the Chosin Reservoir
The ones that manned their guns and
Held their ground at the battle of Khe Sanh
And all the ones who came home
hoping to find peace
Before they take their place beside their brothers
Where they too can tell their tales to those who understand
The insidious reign
of your apparitions, your
coitus with the attic serpents
was sufficient to strip all
pigment from my skin.
Was it they who walked you
blindfolded through the upper chambers
of our modest Eros quarters?
Didn’t you walk them?
My self-reckoning, old Freudian suppers
were wet cookies beneath your heels.
And we lived here!
Their split tongues crowded my speech.
Our energies were split hairs, gnarled
To the scalp!
Our timid blithe seconds were
massacred!
Published: PS It's Still Poetry, January 2022
I ride a dappled horse and I'm full of introspection
With centrifugal force I gaze with circumspection
This merry-go-round gives me a sense of connection
While conversely I feel immense disaffection
Then the roan steed begins a gentle ascent
With an easy speed I ponder this peculiar event
I feel comfort and I feel awe at this predicament
But most of all I feel no earthbound lament
I transcend the corporeal and temporal plane
I hear a choir and see beauty the world couldn't contain
I experience relief and forgetting in this new domain
I join the One and sing along to the refrain
4-4-2020
Today is another birthday,
I now am seventy-five!
Three quarters of a century,
and I am still alive!
Don’t ask me how I managed it,
I just don’t have a clue
Was it merely luck or fate
that always brought me through?
They say the good die young,
well, what does that say about me?
I stumbled in my youth, but
now I stumble cause I can’t see!
Danced my way through my twenties,
never thought my legs would fail.
Ate my share of junk food,
and lot’s of champagne and ale!
When I arrived in my fifties,
I finally came to my senses…
Decided it was time to wake up
and start to mend some fences!
Gave up the booze, the fatty food,
and all the gooey treats
The candy, cookies, cakes and such,
and no more processed meats.
And though I think that is why
I’ve achieved another birthday…
I’ll grab my walker, and my friends,
and we’ll all go out and play!
Evening Quarters
And far away across the fields
the tolling of the iron bell
calls the faithful to their knees
to hear the softly spoken
magic spell.
Sounding out to loneliness
soothing whispers to bereaved.
Grace confirmed by carillon
they live on, who believed.
As night call changes herald summer, echoes
summon hope
the pious soul ascending with
each pull upon the rope.
Forged in fire, tuned by blade
twelve sisters harmonise
bearing witness through the centuries
for those we've lost will rise.
'Breathe- reprise' by Pink Floyd
For contest 'music to my ears', sponsored by Silent one.
Magnifying is your sight,
filtering your destination.
It’s odyssey to the legs
but you walked it with your gaze.
No more too long a distance
is thousands of miles away.
Your adorable gaze beckons
to the elements you require
for manufacturing words.
To your disposal they hasten.
Literary dexterity:
your alluring criterion!
It behoves me to tell you
to behold what beckons you—
it’s the quarter-gate of the sage!
You are welcome here, darling.
There was a time, not long ago,
I’m sure this won’t seem strange,
When I would never leave my house
Without a pile of change.
My wallet would be fit to burst
Or pockets would be jangling
With all the quarters that from every source
I had been wrangling.
The parking meters ate them up.
The bus was just as greedy;
And every pay phone (once a dime)
For quarters seemed quite needy.
The laundry room had its machines
Equipped so they would take
As many quarters as they could
Before we’d bellyache.
I needed quarters in the car
For paying all the tolls;
And in arcades, a two-bit coin
Bestowed you the controls.
But now technology’s advanced
With cards of many types.
Some radar reads your E-Z Pass;
You board the bus with swipes.
I’ve plastic for the wash and dry,
The subway and to park.
A quarter proffered would be met
With shrug as question mark.
I miss my quarter harvest
Though I really must confess
I’m better off today because
My wallet weighs much less!
When I say stuff you don't agree with
and you ask me questions about it
and I answer them
and then you say stuff I don't agree with
and I ask questions
and you answer them
and slowly we get
to know each
other as long as respect is foremost
in both our heads
this can get done
without violence.
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