Spellbound, she thrills
to pirouettes and whirls
Leaves her seat to dance in the aisle
the precocious young child
Shushed to sit down
her bright eyes droop
O, but for want of a mentor
with a rainbow sherbet scoop
Must we cry at funerals?
Or might we stand there motionless-
Clutching fists or hands at rest
Between the mourning generals
Must we drown our eyes in tears?
Or might we simply look away-
Weigh the rain another day
And feign to hear some hollowed cheers
Must we hide a torrid cry?
Or might we hold a paper piece-
Hear a sermon shushed by peace
And empty hearts as they breathe dry
Might we look up at the bird
That disappears amongst the trees
Pulled back to earth by the breeze
And finds the roots to hear its word
Shameless shady shepherd Sherlock shushed shoeless Sherman
so surely shabby sharp-eyes Sheila shellacked sheep-headed Sherlock
Shaken shallow Sharon shadowed shapely shipwrecked Sheila
Shadow-man shilly-shallied, shifting shopworn Sharon’s sheep
Showy Sharon sharpened a shortened sheath, shaving Sherlock
Sherlock shuttled shell shocked Sherman, showing his Shenanigans
Shoddy Sheila shocked Shelly, shaking sheep into Shangri-La.
As I gather my thoughts, I can feel something break,
a prolonging absence that makes my heart ache.
I have many fond memories of which I hold dear,
but there is nothing I can do, but wish you were still here.
Every time I would fall you were always right there,
you would pick me back up, with a breath of fresh air.
With the sound of your voice and your kind gentle touch,
you always made me feel special, Mom, I miss you so much.
You now dwell in my heart and live on in my mind,
in my hour of need, you’re still easy to find.
With patience and love you brought my life joy,
even though I grow old, I am still your little boy.
You were my light in the darkness, you shushed all my screams,
in a cold evil world, you brought peace to my dreams.
You made the sun shine even brighter and the sky a deeper blue,
I had the world’s best mother, all because of you.
3/17/23
Writing Challenge – ‘M’ Words – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
They came in hot, and they came in hard.
What are they? Asked our strangest bard.
They were readily lead in by a lark bunting bird,
We had not a guess, not an idea, not a word.
They were at the carnival fair, is true.
We rarely see the likes of you!
Said one rude dude, whose name is Boon.
We shushed him away, and faced the moon.
The moon did not speak, but had a party hat.
As did the turquoise owl, the boy and the cat.
They were a strange lot, with a dancing mouse.
Wearing a lavender tutu, a ballerina in Touse!
Dressed as jesters, as clowns, and such.
We were intrigued and excited, so very much.
The knight’s horse wore a fancy shawl.
Welcome! We carnies said. “One and all!”
Camouflage me quickly the fowl yelled as he landed.
Did not know who he was, but we ran out with paints - blue and red.
Can we colorize your feathers asked our leader, Mrs. Banded.
Do what you must to keep me away from the broiler, he said.
What are you talking about? Asked our naïve chicks of yellow.
With one warning look, he shushed his mouth, a wiser fellow.
What did he mean, dad? My chicks asked me that night.
I have no idea, I told them. I tucked them in, their eyes big and bright.
I want them to stay young and innocent as long as I can.
There will be plenty of time to ruin their dreams, agreed Mr sandman.
Baby Faerie knew that mermaids were real.
She was pulled to the water with a keen sort of “feel”.
She glanced down deep and liked what she saw.
It was a baby mermaid, so dippy daw daw!
Baby Mermaid had heard that faeries were fake.
She was pulled to the channel of this inner lake.
She spied a baby faerie, and she knew they were real.
Guided here by her inner spiritual “feel”.
They giggled at each other, delighted at what they had found.
Shh! They shushed each other, in case others were around.
Like dogs and cats, babies and toddlers can feel a spiritual being.
They smiled at each other, liking their secret, their mystical seeing.
What game is it? Squishy asked Tough Todd.
Tough Todd gave him a hate look, barely a nod.
It’s Poker! Hissed Nutsy, here is your hand.
Squishy could hear a loud Mariachi band.
Where is that band? He asked and got shushed by seven.
Talk again during the game, and we’ll send you to heaven!
He did not know they were so serious about their cards.
He threw his hand on the table and ran to join the go-lucky bards.
The melody was soothingly refreshing, coming from the east.
Do you hear it? I asked the others, including an ugly wildebeest.
It’s the fern wheel, he said, acting terrified of the Zen-like tune.
He lumbered off to do some Halloween howling at the moon.
I had forgotten what a pansy wansy this dandy can be.
I looked at the rose bush and said “How pathetic is he?”
The rose bush shut her eyes and shushed me in a hot way.
She wanted to hear the fern wheel’s song over his ugly bray.
Seriously I said, is that really just a common fern wheel?
Not ordinary in any kind of way, she replied. Here is the deal.
The fern wheel was transmogrified from the good witch of the north.
I could tell you more about it, she said and so forth.
Intuition flares,
prancing in ostentatious circles,
feather-tip proud.
Lugubrious grey wigs
speckle gregariously
bedecked by flamboyant gems:
they flicker frustratingly
in stifled Regency ballrooms.
Our embers, in contrast,
are quiet. Shushed.
They wallow in dark corners,
hidden from prying eyes.
Predators.
Our collective eyelid
flutters closed:
too shy, subduing to privacy.
A silent tear streaks
our collectively cold face.
Science ensnares our senses,
making ordinary life dim -
blindingly darkened;
teetering on Boredom’s knife edge –
we long to carve it free;
infuse new scarlet veins
into its unthinking, meaty flesh,
stoking a smothered fire,
rekindling its earthy,
endearing embers.
Unbutton your lips, let your voice sing out.
Stand strong in its music, it is your own.
Shout your convictions, let all hear your tone
Declare
Proclaim
Condemn
Speak up. Speak out. Speak.
Don’t ignore your sisters’ cry
Don’t sit silent while your brothers die
Use your voice as an instrument of change
Do not be shushed, do not be shamed
Silence is not golden, it’s invisible.
October come with its
shades of orange
September ends
Harvest moon
once again
Soon
Silence in the
Shushed
Smokehouse
Crackle of a hunters boot
Through the trees
Puffing and pumping
Mixed with clouds of hot air
A fawn and doe chase
The wind lighter
Hillsides shadowed
Red and brown
A gunshot
Echoed in cool grey skies
Burnt to the lungs
Sound of birds
leaving south
In time for tobacco
Dried Blood
Frightening witches are scary, ghost and ghouls are all a wreck.
Horrible gargoyles and vampires will bite your little neck.
My four-year-old nephew shushed me. I thought what the heck?
You are scaring the jack-o-lanterns," He said. “Stop Uncle Beck!"
No way I can be happy, she said in a weird way.
We imagined she was kidding, this goddess of play.
Smirking with a silly grin that was not dissipating.
For where was the Cheshire face originating?
Come on! Tell! We insisted, dying to hear the story.
Okay, she said. Know that new guy named Tory?
We began screaming and oohing for he was a fox.
To break into his walls would be like conquering Fort Knox.
No way! We screamed, and she shushed us all the way to church.
He sat in the next pew, where we peered at him on perch.
They were so cute together, they could not keep smiling at all.
We lived vicariously through their love story, nothing small.
Singing, dancing, playing all took a backseat now for our friend.
The joy she exuded included us. The happy feelings could not end.
This was thirty years ago, and they are still together in every way.
When we get together, their love song helps us all have a better day.
They came to me for Jewish names
A Russian-Jewish couple, not to blame
Where they were from, Hebrew was banned
As it had been throughout Communist lands
His name was Boris; hers was Bronya...
In a twinkle I said: "Greetings, Boruch and Bracha
Your new names are special; they each mean 'blessing'
No longer will either of you be guessing---"
They shushed me and smiled two wonderful smiles
As if they had just walked down the wedding aisle---
"We understand, Reb Gershon," Bracha joyfully said
"From all of our striving were these two names bred"
Boruch was blessed to have such a fine wife
His Bracha! ~ They together shared life
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