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Best Poems Written by Juli Freda

Below are the all-time best Juli Freda poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Juli Freda Poem

Ode To Summer Sausage

Trouble was caused by love of sausage,
Summer sausage by strict definition,
Which is any sausage loved by masses
That can be kept without refrigeration.
Until a day when a man arrives
Walking into a home, his destination,
The sausage was waiting, calling
His name, how could he avoid the temptation?
He lost his vision of all other tasks
In a quest for this pork perfection.

Who is to say it wasn’t true love?
Who can resist the salty pig parts?
The slender casing surrounding the 
Tube of leftover scraps, like hearts.
The exact ingredients are makers secrets,
No recipes, or measuring, or charts.
The love in the hands of the artist
Who takes the whole pig, and some parts.
Often mixed with beef or venison
In secret combinations, takes smarts.

The magic of putting it all together,
Mixing and cooking and chopping,
Is wasted on a young man’s greed,
Who never even did the shopping.
Lost in the quest for food and drink
Shoving food in, there’s no stopping.
Heartless abandon to those around
Staying for free, just flopping.
Sausage created a wall for him
Between starving and groc shopping.
Did he even taste the subtle tang
Of a creation with just the right fat?
Does he even know the time it took
To get the ingredients where they’re at?
Did he miss the testament to the hog,
The life of the pig for just that?
Does he even have a clue that all meat,
Fat, salt and herbs, must be so exact?

He couldn’t have wolfed down a log
Of chorizo, for it would be too hot.
He couldn’t have handled the extra
Garlic in one, he’d faint right on the spot.
The mustard seed, black pepper
And salt gave it just the right shot,
Of spices, then add in a grace
Of sugar, to make it the best he got.
Dried or smoked, he grunted right through
Gone in a whisper, it was not.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

I Am the Dam

The Earth is my Grandmother
caring and gentle, whispering
to me upon her breezes to nurture,
replant, enjoy the world.  She
call to me in the echoes of the
mountains to remember, to relax,
to keep the world a better place.

The Moon is my Grandfather
rock hard and silent, watching
me, instructing me on how not
to turn Grandmother into a 
barren wasteland.  He is bitter
and yells form the skies raining
dust and debris, turning this 
world into a bitter place.

I am the dam, keeping myself
from turning a gentle, flowing
world into a barren floodplain.
I honor my Grandmother and use
only what I need.  I fear my
Grandfather and the destruction
I can cause.  I am the dam,
steady, looking out for both sides.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

Last Line For the Lineman

It’s a fine line we walk in life,
but a finer line the lineman
holds on to.  There’s something
about holding 24,000 volts in your
hand, close enough to kiss it.
Close enough to feel the tingle on
his lips, sending the slightest
shiver down his spine.  He’ll
tell you, there’ something about
watching that blue light dancing
up his arm while working in 
the rain.  As people sleep he
works swiftly to allow others
to live, teetering on the edge
every day.  Dealing with hot lines,
pot heads, transfers and more
volts than most people
encounter in their entire lives,
these men risk their lives for
the love of the live wire.
There’s something about being
outside, 60 feet above the
ground, in 110-degree weather, -10 degree
weather, or pouring rain.  There’s
something they can’t explain to
you, something you won’t 
understand unless you also
fall in love with the live wire.
He’s content to know he’s
done his job, all too often
without recognition.  He sleeps
nights, knowing his friends
are out their risking their
lives, and he may be called
at any time, to help them, 
to help you.  As the children play,
as the neighbors sleep, the
lineman climbs his poles
and brings you back to the light.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

Ode To a Mammogram

Ode To A Mammogram

Checking the calendar for appointments to be made
I come across a giant circle that I placed there yearly
take another day off work and dress for the parade

I’ve lost a list of many friends who I loved so dearly
a simple test they could have had to keep them all well
a large machine, a simple shot, the picture reads so clearly

The murmur of the lowering platform with silent ringing bells
a gentle tug, a shiftless stance, a long, long, holding breath
I wait while pictures are reviewed, some to dense to tell.

Another form, another mashing, another brush with death
why worry about what we don’t know, it just leads to strife
Shocking news, another mass, but we can get that depth

Somewhere someone has lost a mother, a sister, a wife
All women should take the time to save their own life.


Not in Ode format, so I put it in as free verse.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

The Avalanche

Quietly they slept
Quietly the snow fell
Quietly the trees swayed
Slowly the snow got higher against the tiny window
Slowly the wind caused the pines to dance
Slowly the mountain watched the storm blow in
Quickly the drifts covered the cabin
Quickly the wind responded to the mountains request
Quickly the trees moved out of the way of the snow
Silently the mountain shook her shoulders
Silently the snow slid down her back
Silently the cabin disappeared from the mountain

Details | Juli Freda Poem

Morning

Every morning I hear the cereal crackle,
I see the milk soak into the flakes
And I hope I can eat it before it gets soggy.
How hard it is to get up in the morning
To force a smile onto a tired face
Before I can even get my morning shower.

My husband used up all the warm water for his shower
And my aging bones begin to creak and crackle.
I lathered my cloth and tried to wash my face
But the hair drier dried the soap and my face flaked.
I went to get the paper but we only get the one on Sunday morning
And this is Tuesday, so I grabbed the neighbor’s, which was soggy.

And the rain from the night before kept it soggy.
It was one of our infamous April showers.
The sun wasn’t out on this dreary morning,
The only sound outside was the lightning crackle.
I just hope the raindrops don’t turn to snowflakes.
I could use a sauna to remove the tension from my face.

But now my son has gotten up with a smile upon his face,
He doesn’t care if his flakes are soggy,
All he wants to do is eat his flakes
So he can watch cartoons while I am in the shower.
Soon he’s eaten it all and there is no crackle
Left in the bowl.  Silence rules the morning.

Th sun begins to warm up the morning,
My husband has a gentle smile on his face,
The sky has ceased it’s frightening crackle,
And the sun dries the papers that were soggy.
The warm water is back so I can finish a shower,
The sun has passed the threat of snowflakes.

Just as shampoo passes the threat of other flakes,
And a sweet radio song brightens the morning,
And the flowers brighten from the morning shower,
And quiet calms and angry face,
And you can laugh at flakes that are soggy
You too can laugh at the sky when it crackles.

Because flakes are flying off your face,
And the morning being too soggy
Doesn’t matter later when you shower and the fireplace crackles.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

For Mrs Maha

He fell in love with the blue arching
He fell in love with his hair standing on end
He fell in love with the power
And he fell in love with you.
He never chose to leave, but his job
Took him away.
Every day he risked his life,
Never making a mistake.
He went out in the rain,
And always came home.
He went out in the snow,
And always came home.
He went out in the lightning, sleet
and storms, and always came home.
On a routine day, with the sun shining,
the clouds rolling by, and the shift
almost over, he didn’t make it home.
There is no rhyme or reason, it was his time to go.
But he didn’t chose to leave you.
Questions remain unanswered,
Prayers remain unheard,
How’s and whys linger in the air
No one there to respond.
A mistake? A Miscue? A Slip? A Fall?
A death, never to come home again.
His last thoughts were of you,
I’m sure, and little ones left behind.
But he never chose to leave you.
Someway, somehow, someone, somethng
took him from you.
Somewhere, sometime, it will be easier
To let him go, knowing
He didn’t chose to leave you.
His friends will come calling
to explain his love of the power.
His coworkers will stop by
To explain the love of hair standing on end.
His boss will call on you
To explain how well he handled the blue arcing.
But no one will explain
Why he left you.
Remember him as he was, strong
Dependable, your lover, your friend.
Remember him as he was, kind, gentle
A loving father to those kids.
Remember him as he was, dedicated,
Driven, a worker whose career was cut short.
Remember
He didn’t chose to leave you.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

The Seashore - a Tautogram

Annabelle Albatross’s amazing aquatics astound audiences at Atlantic airshows.

Bill Beaver’s barrel-rolling barely bumps bobbing buoys.

Crustaceans crowd cramped coves.  Charlie Crab cowers, camouflaged creatively.

Dennis Dolphin dives deeply dragging down desirable delicacies.

Elegant electric eels electrify everything.  Edgar Eel eats extensively.

Fancy Fanny Flounder flaunts fluorescent fins.

Gigantic gems glisten, giving George Guppy giggles.

Henrietta Hippo holds hands harmoniously hugging Henry Hippo.

Isabella Ibis is inching inland.  Infant Iris Ibex idles indoors.

Jeremiah Jellyfish jests joyfully.  Juvenile jellyfish join Jeremiah.

Kibitzing Kingfishers keep kids kicking.  Katy Kingfisher knits knickerbockers.

Luminescent ladybugs land lightly.  Light-hearted, lily-white lizards lounge leisurely.

Many manatee move marvelously, making mini musical masterpieces.

Noone notices ninety needlefish nestled neatly near nets.

Oscar Octopus ogles Ophelia Octopus openly.  Ophelia observes Oscar’s oddities.

Pretty Penny Platypus playfully poses.

Quirky Quincy Quail quickly quits quacking.

Racy Rhonda Rattlesnake ran races ‘round round racetracks.

Sassy Sammy Salamander snoozed silently, snorting sand.

Tarsiers traverse terribly tall trees trying to track tiny termites.

Unique umbrellabirds update unclear unicorns under umbrellas.

Voiceless vultures vacate very vivid vegetation.

Wally weasel watches walrus’s wade, wisely waiting.

Xena x-rayed Xyli Xenops.

Young Yuri Yak yelled “Yuck!  Yogurt!”

Zombie zebras zip-lined, zealous zookeepers zig-zagged.




Started July, 1996
Finished Feb, 2018

Details | Juli Freda Poem

I Don'T, All Year

I don’t own a car,
So I use my new dog sled
These January winters
Blowing ice right through my head

I don’t have a lover
So no friend or special one
To ease my February
When Valentine’s fail to come.

I don’t own an umbrella
So my hair is stiff and wet
St. Patrick’s Day spent in the rain
When March brings her regrets.

I don’t own a bathtub
So I hope these storms are strong
It’s time for my yearly bath
When April showers come along.

I don’t have a garden
No tulips or roses share the light
When May bring flowers everywhere
My empty lot is quite a sight.

I don’t own a bonnet
So no flowers and bows for me
June shows me no warmth and sunshine
When summer breaks the monotony.

I don’t own a television
So parades must all be live
Flags and flowers, bands and food
When July brings patriots to life.

I don’t have a gazebo
So no waiting on the lawn
For children playing on the steps
When August rolls along.

I don’t have a radio
So the silence creates a fuss
As school starts up in my town
When September brings the bus.


I don’t have a front window
So no display of fright to see
Pumpkins, candy, trick or treat
October has nothing for me.

I don’t own an oven
No baking pies or turkey birds
November shows me cold instead
My life is so absurd.

I don’t own a living room
No porch or hall or tree
No decorations at Christmastime
I created a world of just me.

Details | Juli Freda Poem

The Final Ride

He sat straight up in the saddle,
tired, no sweat left in him
as he hadn’t drunk a drop
for days.  The white salt ring
left on his skin and the
horses neck were crusty, itchy,
stale smelling.  He was tough
as weathered leather, taking
his last ride, the last mile,
the last day, saying goodbye
as he rode away.  He was no 
slouch, he would sit straight
up until he could no longer
hold his head.  The horse 
collapsed, dead from exhaustion,
dehydration, refusing to leave 
his life long companion.  With
a snap, the rope tightened as
the cowboy fell towards his
horse, the final ride over, his
final prayer answered, to
ride forever with his friend.




created 16 Jan 2019