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Best Poems Written by Donna Condron

Below are the all-time best Donna Condron poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Nocturnal Navigator

While fairly close to half asleep
    I sensed a pounce and then a leap.
    There was the very slightest trace
    Of whiskers brushing near my face. 

    I heard a glass begin to totter
    A glass half full of cool tap water.
    Papers rustled, pill holders clicked
    That nothing fell was quite a trick.

    The creator of this minor stir
    Erupted with a thunderous purr.
    My nightstand now became the place
    For a cat who stalks with endless grace..

Details | Donna Condron Poem

An Ode To Martha Stewart

Every month, without fail, I buy your magazine,
   I read it through from front to back, to see what I might glean.
   I'm awed at your endeavors and your accomplishments are many.
   You show readers how to keep a home and save a pretty penny.

   You sew and craft, dice and bake, then deftly plant a row.
   You show the way to knit and felt, and how to mix up scrumptious dough.
   Yes, Martha you amaze me, your work ethic is supreme.
   And creating order out of chaos is every woman's dream.

   You make affixing glitter look like more than just plain fun.
   You roast and toast, and yes, compost, until the job is done.
   I'm sure you have your critics, though I hope that they are few.
   We may buy your sheets in Macys, your pots and dishes too.

   You've shown this world the domestic life and all it's meant to be.
   Most of all you've given hope to plain old gals like me.

Details | Donna Condron Poem

The Artist

I took a tiny touch of red
  Then I dabbed a bit of blue.
  Voila! I had purple
  Now I wondered what to do.

  The empty piece of canvas
  Was waiting for a scene.
  I shall start to build a forest
  With shades of deepest green.

  Ooops! I erred and made a splat.
  It's a mark I can't take back.
  I've changed my mind completely
  This paintings now abstract.

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Rumors

Rumors like music
Float through the air.
You can choose to ignore them
Or decide that you care.

These tales are rampant
So often not true.
They spread as warm butter
Stick around like strong glue.

Rumors are stories
Cloaked in disguise.
Some might be truthful 
Or worse, blatant lies.

I find it best to ignore them
Hope soon they depart.
And don't try to decipher
Just where they did start.

Details | Donna Condron Poem

Goddess of the Poetry

Rhyming is a delightful game
certainly one I love to play.
I thank the muse who comes to me
On any given day.

She sits upon my shoulder.
Whispers words quite candidly.
If she whispers enough of them
Then sentences I see.

If the words aren't written down
They simply fade away.
And only segments will return
On an inconvenient day.

I will continue doing
What this presence does decree.
I perceive her as a lady
Goddess of the poetry.

Details | Donna Condron Poem

Bonsai

I like to show up early
  He was always late.
  I planned my every move
  While he relied on fate.

  If I decided somethings wrong
  He would decide it's right.
  Like a willow I would sway
  Like a maple he stood strong.

  We pruned our likes and dislikes
  Much as trimming a Bonsai.
  We focused on the good parts
  Tossing off the bad to die.

  Our compost pile of cuttings
  Began to set us free.
  Eventually we both conceded
  Love is simply meant to be.

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The Game of Life

Were you a peg that wouldn't fit?
   That peg who missed by just a bit.
   A tad too round or oddly square,
   A peg not fitting anywhere.

   Your trip through life, a life askew,
   Made you wish for something new.
   While time passed by, your edges wore.
   You longed for less while life sent more.

   One day across the board you see
   a spot that's simply meant to be.
    Life has sanded the edge away
  Giving you a chance to play.

   Many will get their turn to play.
   If a peg won't fit it might someday.
   Since our future is often unforseen
   Take that chance to find your dream.

Details | Donna Condron Poem

My Garden

Love, with hope and vitality
  Joined together in one space.
  Here in my garden I can see
  Transformation taking place.

  Radishes, crisp and crunchy
  Robust and brightest red.
  Picked by hand not long ago
  From their earthy garden bed.

  Sprinkled with a trace of salt
  Slices sharply thin and straight.
  Moisture clinging to their edge
  Then placed upon a china plate.

  Tomatoes, scarlet beauties
  An aroma strong and heady.
  My gift from soil and sun
  Now so very ripe and ready.  

  I am grateful for the bounty
  A reward for what I've done.
  I admit most candidly
  Gardening is my form of fun.

Details | Donna Condron Poem

The Prowlers

I spied him in the garden
 His mask was black and white.
 Sometimes the gray was with him
 And that often was at night.

 They prowled around the maple tree
 Then slipped into the shed.
 If I ventured out to look for them
 They quickly will have fled.

 I believe they are my neighbors
 Of that I can't be sure.
 I've often tried to meet them
 Using tuna as a lure.

 I stand behind the tilted blinds
 Then peer between the slats.
 I find it quite amusing
 To watch a pair of cats.

Details | Donna Condron Poem

The Inner Spirit

I found my mind attired in stress
 Woven from the darkest gray.
 It wasn't an attractive style
 So I took it off that very day.

 I knew the perfect place to shop
 Called My Inner Spirit Mart.
 Where time for you can simply stop
 With the pursuit of creating art.

 When my heart is heavy or feeling faint
 When my life has blown a fuse.
 I reach for brushes and my paints
 Then call upon my muse.

 Those who write, stitch and paint,
 Or dance with greatest ease. 
 Find an inner way to heal
 Because our soul is what we please.