The stream (all workshops)
On cold winter mornings,
Coal-burning furnace yet unlit,
Toes curled from the frigid wooden floor,
Grandma’s kitchen was a warm haven;
The wood-burning stove radiating comfort.
Hands wrapped ‘round hot Postum,
I listened in rapture to her tales
Of strange happenings on Otter Lake
And what her life was like
Long before I was born.
Arise from dismay's iron limbs,
Choking zeal away from your mighty will.
Conciliation and hope to petulant minds,
Who believe every road is but a pile of chaffs,
And miracles are only made up tales to please
Arise, for there's nothing to gain lying on an empty ground,
Cursing the universe for the nothingness,
The nothing encompassing your compass,
Look through, above the walls, into the eyes of sunrise
Espy, learn, great things are waiting for you
T hawed face like frozen death
H igh snarling winds stinging face dust
E ngine breaking slowly from steep walking
I m freezing inside and outside my
C ore. Crystal Atlantic blue hue numb
E nergy sapped from thin air above
C ondition critical and no hospital
O ld scent of dry wetness my
L oud rattling shaking body
D ust white powdered no visibility
At the altar stood the couple, shining faces and combed hair,
The groom, in bliss he stole a kiss, mouthed an eager prayer.
Her hand slipped into his as they faced each other for the vow,
Excitement tingled in his groin; can’t wait, the time is now.
Late that evening he held her tight, undid her ivory dress.
She slid into the cool white sheets; at first did she protest.
Before we reach our heaven, I want you to agree,
if you die in bed tonight, your wealth you’ll give to me.
Snowstorm Acrostic Poem Challenge:
S-tarting slow, with just a flake or two
n-ight of cloud-crammed canopy of deep indigos
o-ver hilltops and through vales to
w-intery city streets and country roads
s-oon; all too soon, the pace does quicken
t-ossing winds pick up as snowflakes thicken
o-h how they gather as a blizzard gets underway
r-ushing to get home, escape swirling ice and snow
m-other nature's anger expressed as white-out hell!-
It was a dusky black night
out back in the stix.
Sheriff Buford T Pusser
had been up with the kids.
The wife was in bed,
but something was wrong.
The chickens out back
made a cock a doodle doo sound
When he turned on the porch light,
and ran out to see.
The gals in the hen house
were going crazy.
He pulled out his pistol
and threw open the cage.
To find that old rocky
Had stolen their eggs.
Rocky was in there
With their eggs in a clutch.
He’d been caught red pawed,
Jack Frost
Cold winds, white snow
Blowing across the days
Requiring hats and warm clothing
Winter
Through dank-clouded moorlands lost in a fret
we covered the miles on this our last drive
to a seaside haven harried and wet.
Its greying guest houses scarcely alive,
peeling amusement parks closing at five.
An iron-dark sea enraged by a storm,
kids huddling in bus shelters hardly warm,
sea gulls bedraggled and damp as they dozed.
Joyful in summer what winter transforms,
despite what it promised, Minehead felt closed.
heil to the Wharton chief firebrand -
more worrisome than an ovarian cyst
every race, religion, nationality,
gender, creed, et cetera with impunity dissed
brigand able, eager, ready and willing
to punch contenders throwing his fist
against rival – one nasty and brutish soul
after reading, you get the gist.
Das boot trump out-
(oust him to) Waterloo
Eagerly awaits you
the bully in the white house and true.
Old folks,
Soft and round
warm and well seasoned
delicate yet firm
courteous and pleasing
content to just read
or work in the yard
their kindness is emminent
just give them a reason
so in their old age
please, don’t let them down
they’ll need your support
to get around town
when skies are gray
bring the kiddies around
to lift up their spirits
with a joyous sound
but most of all
spend some time gathered round
and blow them sweet kisses
when you pack to leave town
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