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Janice Canerdy Poem
The child is a poet with innocent eyes
And a bumpity A-B-C rhyme,
A dancer whose feet with the rhythm of life
Move in jubilant one-two-three time.
The child is a doctor who heals with a kiss
And treats with a serum called smile,
A researcher who seeks out the meaning of life,
Then explains it with unflinching style.
The child is a chef who makes sandwich and Kool-Aid
And thinks it a royal repast,
A hero who battles the monsters and villains
And renders our land safe at last.
The child is a teacher, a sleuth, an explorer,
Controller of race car and ship,
Possessor of limitless spirit and mind
With holster and gun at the hip.
Reflections of children shine pure in the eyes
Of those who are watching them grow,
Remembering times when the sunrise meant journeys
To lands where adults cannot go.
Written in 1987
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2015
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Janice Canerdy Poem
Some people frankly write about their quirks.
If I had any, I would tell you so.
Though no outlandish trait within me lurks,
some folks think I’m a nut. What do they know?
Why do they criticize when I engage
in conversations with myself. What’s wrong
with them? Also, they frequently enrage
me, looking shocked when I burst into song
while jogging through the neighborhood at night
clad in my red muu-muu and army boots.
I overhear them saying, “What a sight!”
I live around mean-spirited old coots!
My grandkids, too, think my behavior strange.
because I check the stove repeatedly
(I must be SURE it’s off!) and rearrange
my papers fifteen times. They’re irked at me
when I repeat myself five times a day.
I do this for THEIR benefit! They just
do not appreciate wise things I say.
One learns by repetition; it’s a MUST.
I surely hope I’ve made this crystal clear:
I have no oddball quirks; I’m truly blessed
with wholesome traits that, I feel, should endear
me to all those who criticize and jest!
FICTIONAL (well--some of it))
Date written and posted: February 6, 2018
Contest Title: Quirks Placed 5th (of ten)
Sponsor: Madison Demetros
April 10, 2019, entered in Richard Lamoureau's Poem of the Day Contest
When I received this honor--POTD February 8, 2018--I was over the MOON!
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2018
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Janice Canerdy Poem
When I refused to ride with Death
He tied my hands and feet,
Then tossed me in with some poor guy
He'd grabbed up off the street.
Oh, what a hurry he was in!
He slammed it to the floor.
We sat in wide-eyed, abject fear,
Each clinging to a door.
While whizzing past the school, we saw
The children run and play.
We passed the fields where tractors hummed
On this, our judgment day.
We captives introduced ourselves,
Shook hands, and sadly talked.
When Death heard unfamiliar names,
He gasped, slowed down, and balked.
He made a sudden stop beside
A swelling of the ground.
He scratched his head, he murmured low,
And then he turned around.
" 'Tis centuries until your time!
I've made a grave mistake.
Seems I misread the pick-up sheet.
You're free, for goodness sake!"
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016
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Janice Canerdy Poem
The series "Despicable Me,"
we've flocked to theaters to see.
Wee minions--cute creatures--
and bad guys each features.
To all we respond with great glee.
I never dreamed five years ago
that I would soon dash to and fro
in search of these minions--
in children's opinions,
all treasures. How well I now know!
Some kids possess minions galore:
the one-eyed, the two-eyed, and more.
They giggle and jabber;
"BANANA," some blabber.
Their odd appeal, who could ignore?
My grandson's like other young boys.
For Christmas he craved minion toys.
His loved ones went shopping
for hours, not stopping
till we found gifts he now enjoys.
The minion-themed presents I gave
were puzzles, a cool talking Dave,
a pillow with three guys
with one or two huge eyes.
For these he did hug me and rave.
` I'm glad to say just one thing more:
Fart Blaster, I left at the store!
The child would have driven
me nuts if I'd given
him that thing; but Dave, I adore.
Date posted: February 23, 2016
The rhyming scheme of a limerick is aabba.
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016
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Janice Canerdy Poem
The days, they come; the days, they go.
Like rivers on and on they flow,
not always smoothly. Some will be
quite turbulent, some trouble free.
Like clouds and sunshine, rain and snow,
the days, they come; the days, they go.
While some are pleasant, others glum,
they're life--no matter how they come.
Our minds, through time, serve as the seat
of memories--some tart, some sweet.
The days, they come; the days, they go.
Hard times and blessings they bestow.
The strong and wise will realize
the sun that sets will also rise.
Soft breezes drift and rough winds blow.
The days, they come; the days, they go.
November 6, 2021
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance Placed 2nd
POTD November 7, 2021
January 4, 2022
entered in Brian Strand's Contest 1046 placed 1st
July 21, 2022
entered in the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2021
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Janice Canerdy Poem
I think of sunsets I have seen
throughout my many years
from doorsteps where in quiet thought
I've laughed and wiped my tears.
The doorstep is a thinking spot
a place to share my day
with loved ones God has given me,
an altar where I pray.
For children it's a special seat
for rest when school work ends,
where snacks and many laughs are shared
with kindred-spirit friends.
For teens it is a meeting place
where games and dates are planned.
The simple structure serves us all,
according to demand.
Great praise is due life's doorsteps,
both intangible and seen,
and all the portals fore and aft
for all they truly mean.
published in the book Expressions of Faith (Christian Faith Publishing, 2017)
posted 11-7-15
May 2017, placed 5th of ten in Ironic Zinc's Your Personal Favorite Poem Contest
entered in Brian Strand's Mid-June Premier Contest on June 13, 2017
December 27, 2018, entered in Mark Toney's Poetry Marathon, Mile 5
October 13, 2020
Contest Title: Have You Published Poetry Contest Placed 2nd
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2015
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Janice Canerdy Poem
In the grand scheme of things
what are we but tiny
specks of dust in the wind?
In God's plan what is life?
A brief sojourn like a
quickly vanishing mist
based on Bible verses and a 1978 song by Kansas
Date: December 8, 2019
Contest Title: Best Free Verse July-December 2019
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Date: September 30, 2019
Contest Title: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow Placed 2nd
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Date: September 26, 2019
Contest Title: Any Poem You Want to Write, 50 Words or Less Placed 1st
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
March 3, 2022
entered in Brian Strand's Freed Verse Contest
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2019
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Janice Canerdy Poem
Compose a melody of all that makes you strong.
First, sing it for yourself; then give the world your song.
November 27, 2017, entered in Brian strand's 2 or 3 line poetry contest
Placed 1st
February 5, 2022
entered in the Your Best Couplet # 4 Contest
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016
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Janice Canerdy Poem
I'm searching for a new man.
(My lemon quit on me.)
I'm a discerning seeker.
(The smallest dent, I'll see!)
I want a younger fellow;
(Low mileage is a must.)
Required is great get-up-and-go
(an engine with no rust).
He should desire me in his lap.
(Seat warmers feel so good.)
He's gotta be in tiptop shape.
(I'll know what's under the hood!)
Low-maintenance, I value.
(oil changes quarterly)
He must look good and make me proud.
(Buffed shine, I love to see.)
Trustworthiness, I so desire.
(Don't like those tow truck calls!)
He must always keep pace with me.
(Don't want a thing that stalls.)
April 1, 2017--entered in Brian Strand's April 2017 Premier Contest
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016
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Janice Canerdy Poem
My poem is patterned after John Crowe Ransom's "Blue Girls." I suppose you could call it a parody. His poem appears below mine.
Styling in your leggings, wildly designed,
Strutting to classes in your modern schools—
While texting. Roll your eyes at those old fools
Who think they're so refined.
Toss back the pink extensions in your hair,
And think no more of SAT's at all.
But plan to meet bff's at the mall
To shop for earrings there.
Make duck-face selfies while guys who watch dream
about your lovely, well-toned flesh so tight.
It will sag some day, bringing no delight—
in spite of firming creams.
You think I don't know beauty, but I do!
I know a woman with a poison tongue
and beady eyes that used to be bright-blue.
She turned heads near and far when she was young
and surely knocked the shine off all of you.
Note: "BFF's" means Best Friends Forever.
Also, I've heard that the fish gape pose is now more popular than the
duckface pose!
Date: February 15, 2021
Contest Title: Open Poetry 2
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
"Blue Girls"
by John Crowe Ransom (American poet, critic, essayist, and instructor, 1888-1974)
Twirling your blue skirts, travelling the sward
Under the towers of your seminary,
Go listen to your teachers old and contrary
Without believing a word.
Tie the white fillets then about your hair
And think no more of what will come to pass
Than bluebirds that go walking on the grass
And chattering on the air.
Practice your beauty, blue girls, before it fail;
And I will cry with my loud lips and publish
Beauty which all our power shall never establish,
It is so frail.
For I could tell you a story which is true;
I know a woman with a terrible tongue,
Blear eyes fallen from blue,
All her perfections tarnished--yet it is not long
Since she was lovelier than any of you.
found at allpoetry.com/blue-girls
Date: February 15, 2021
Contest Title: Open Poetry 2
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2021
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