dunking into the water
dismally falling apart
dashing hopes of little boy
never minds says his mommy
we will build sandcastles now
beach is a wonderful place
it fans imagination
Written 5-15-2020
Contest: Finish Line in Seven
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Chose Prompt number 2 Paper Boats
Checked syllable count with www.howmanysyllables.com
Rosy cheeks, keen mind was fairly dancing with terrific ideas and hope
I had a sense about her from the instant we met, a kindred soul.
Eighty-eight years young. She had a soulful and amazing ability to cope.
We were the best of friends, she made me feel encouraged and whole.
April 24 62 Years young
I am 62 years young
62 years around the sun
37 of those years
I have spent with the love of my life —
this poem was published in Teferet journal's 2018 Poem-a-Thon. Please see their webpage or Facebook page for all the great poetry. Also, check out my poetry blog, Https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com for these and other poems. Thanks, Jake
The left arm is for the king.
The right arm is for the Kid.
Image of the scar.
He is my king,
Grown up,The Kid.
Point of the pen, ball.
Or kingdom of kingdoms.
White drugs on rice.
The design that pores into absolute blackness.
From the capital avocado forest in the eastern part of the pulpit of Africa.
Far, far up the mountains of Pigg's Peak,
down golden Lufafa Mountain.
Swati in Greek!
We are heritage.
With a baby in my arms,
keeping it from harm,
I hold back tears of shame,
for I have only fifteen years to my name.
"Happy Birthday to you!"
As the last bars are sung
the cake is brought out
13 candles shinning
on top waiting to be
wished upon.
With one wind sweep
the candles no longer
gleam. And with one
downward motion
of a sharp, silver utensil,
the cake is cut into
many slices.
The cake is gone
in one glup. Presents
of many shapes,
sizes, and colors
are brought out
and opened carefully.
It's a lovely
13th birthday.
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