Favorites I Keep


Redbuds
Redbuds (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

The world opens up to show,

My favorite things,

Which can be enjoyed by paupers,

As well as wealthy kings,

 

They are not so secret,

But within, favorites I keep,

They can be easily aroused,

Whether I’m awake or asleep,

 

During stormy weather or fair,

They always bring a smile,

To my heart when I’m down,

They’ve kept me in awe for awhile,

 

I don’t share them all,

Not all of them are exposed to view,

But others can enjoy,

Some of my favorite things, too,

 

I didn’t enumerate or keep score,

Although in order the list is set,

I wrote them down,

Lest I forget,

 

It reminds me of childhood when,

The smell of fresh gingerbread,

Entices me to the kitchen,

Nothing needs to be said,

 

Spring brings a gentle view,

The first flowers of spring,

Mighty oaks standing tall,

Trees blossoming and greening,

 

Thick green grassy lawns,

Redbuds and dogwood,

Irises with broad beards,

Beautify my neighborhood,

 

Remembering and humming,

A happy song,

One that lingers in my head,

All day long,

 

The silence is broken,

After a swim in the pool,

When excited kids come home,

After a great day at school,

 

I’m reminded I need a nap,

With the purr of a cat,

Lying in the sunshine,

Contented and fat,

 

Water splashing in my kitchen sink,

A precious liquid and often the link,

To a shower after camping,

And a tall cool drink,

 

I watch with intense pleasure,

Water bubbling from fountains,

Sparkling with diamonds,

Cascading from mountains,

 

Burnt umber and scarlets,

The dazzling colors of fall,

Winter’s first blanket of snow,

Flying geese as they call,

 

Quiet things impress me,

Frost when it glistens,

A long soft kiss,

A friend who listens,

 

In the dark or in shadows,

Playing love’s sweet game,

Cuddling in the moonlight,

Whispering a name,

 

In the worlds I keep,

There is much to discover and see,

But my most favorite thing,

Is the love of a woman who truly loves me.

 

 

“Show Me the Shoes!”


Anthropomorphic Valentine, circa 1950–1960
Image via Wikipedia

She curled up next to me,

All soft and deliciously warm,

That was different than usual,

And set off my alarms,

 

She said, “I’ll make myself comfortable,

I need to unwind,”

I eyed her suspiciously,

Had she lost her mind?

 

“Would you like a back rub,

Or a nice tall drink?”

“What kind of trouble am I in?”

I started to think,

 

Everything was too perfect,

With Valentine’s Day approaching soon,

My thoughts should have been about love,

Flowers, violins, and a romantic moon,

 

“Your gown looks mighty thin,

I don’t want you to catch a cold,”

Was I forgetting something?

I was trying to be good as gold,

 

“Oh, oh,” I thought, “I did it this time,”

When her eyes filled up with tears,

She must know I spent time with the boys,

And we drank too many beers,

 

“Dear, I’m sorry,” I started to say,

But she confessed before I did,

I listened once without interrupting,

To the secret that she hid,

 

“Yesterday I went shopping,

And bought the most beautiful shoes,

I thought you might get mad at me,

“You know, blow a fuse,”

 

But if you were already angry,

I’d buy some brand new clothes,

I told my friends that you did,

I said these were the ones you chose,

 

My girlfriends celebrated with me,

About what a generous man you are,

Things got a little crazy,

That’s when I wrecked the car,

 

I looked at her with my silly grin,

And said, “What’s this world coming to?

Yesterday was one of those days,

When one of those cold winds blew,”

 

When I reached over and turned out the light,

She said quietly, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I said, “Look in the cabinet for your Valentine’s card,

And also you’ll find a special ring,”

 

“I know it’s early to celebrate Valentine’s Day,

It’s not the car, but you I choose,

So put on some clothes,

And show me the shoes!”

 

The Magical Flutterby


Flowering crabapple tree
Image by Martin LaBar via Flickr

During the daylight hours,

I flit, I flutter, I fly,

Sometimes high into the sky,

I wander from flower to flower,

It seems such a short time ago,

Before I had these dainty legs,

I was just a good little egg,

That stage was only four days though,

When I hatched, I went through a stage,

Feeding, growing, crawling about,

Those two weeks of growing tired me out,

Especially since I was a big caterpillar for my age,

I built a chrysalis so I could rest,

During the next ten days I began to transform,

Which was certainly the norm,

I wanted to emerge looking my best,

After ten days I stretched my beautiful wings,

This way and that until I was dry,

I felt so strong I wanted to fly,

Over meadows, mountains, and castles of kings,

I danced across flowers for children to see,

How beautiful and colorful the world could be,

Letting children know that some things are free,

They could dance too and be as happy as me.

Something to Write About


Petal of a pelargonium - taken in the evening ...
Image via Wikipedia

I never had
to suppose,

Why some of
the shades she never closed,

The shades
facing me,

Were left
open so I could see,

It was a
ritual,

Turning on
the tap,

Pouring in
her bath soaps,

Knowing it
would raise my hopes,

Let the pink
bubbles rise,

While I’d
pretend to be surprised,

Always the
same routine,

But a feast
for my eyes,

She called
it her private heaven,

Every day
about seven,

She’d soak
away,

All the
troubles of her day,

Sprinkling
rose petals that were real,

Saying the
petals made her feel,

Like a
thirsty flower soaking in the rain,

Then she
would undress, leaving me in pain,

As she
slipped into the curative water,

To soak with
her eyes closed,

Occasionally
she would peek,

To see if I was
watching, I supposed,

Wrinkled when
she emerged,

She would lift her breasts as an offering,

And look at
me always smiling,

As she
stepped out to dry,

Her eyes
would question why,

With a nod
and a wink,

She always
made me think,

Seeing her
in all her glory,

Indicated her
willingness,

To be part
of my story,

“Now you
have something,

To write
about,” she would say,

“Make your
story good enough,

To make my
day,”

When my
broken bones,

Were on the
mend,

I went to see
my friend,

But she had
simply flown away,

That’s what
I say,

And there’s
no doubt,

She gave me
something to write about.

A Frozen Flower and Me


A poster with twelve species of flowers or clu...
Image via Wikipedia

I found a
frozen flower,

As I walked
beside the pond,

Its petals
spoke of summer,

Its fragrance
lingered on,

I picked it
up gently,

For I feared it would break,

I whispered
to it softly,

Perchance it
would awake,

Its petals
softened one by one,

Within my
warming hand,

I thought I
saw the blossom smile,

At first I
did not understand,

But the
reason became clear,

As it gave a
blissful gasp,

I had freed
it from its prison,

And loosed
the icy grasp,

What meaning
could there be,

As I
compared the flower to me,

What could I learn from one flower,

When I freed
its awesome power?

 

Our words
were warm but empty,

As we walked
beside the pond,

We spoke of
our love in summer,

And now the
memory lingers on,

Our love was
so much like a flower,

With petals
soft and warm,

It had
flourished in the summer,

But dared
not face fall’s storm,

When an icy
wind began to prowl,

Slipping
around corners while it kissed the air,

Our love
couldn’t stand the chill,

As summer
gave way to the cold,

Words alone wouldn’t warm the heart,

We had been
so very good together,

But we could
not last apart,

If we just
look past winter,

With the
first advent of spring,

Perhaps our
love will blossom again,

And we’ll
see what fruits it’ll bring.

 

 

I’ve Planted Flowers Along the Way


A poster with twelve species of flowers or clu...
Image via Wikipedia

My path has varied from time to time,

The mountains chosen were hard to climb,,

There are tasks I wish I’d done,

And things I wish I’d left undone,

But there were flowers along the way,

And strings of lights as bright as day,

Within the poems I wish I’d said,

The secrets of journeys where my path led, 

 I didn’t go to many faraway lands,

And learn the languages to understand,

But hearts I’ve touched with silver words,

Encouraged the forlorn with things they heard,

There are flowers I’ve planted where I’ve stayed,

And lights that twinkle where I’ve strayed,

 I may have wandered far and wide,

Yet I’ve learned to take life in stride,

I’ve tried to help those I saw in need,

Gave them strength, from bondage freed,

 I’ve planted flowers along the way,

And fastened lights as bright as day,

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring,

Though a twisted past I wouldn’t change a thing,

If you touch others with your words,

Let it resonate with all you’ve heard.

Run Where The Flowers Grow


Photo of Cocker Spaniel Ch. Obo II, published ...
Image via Wikipedia

I couldn’t believe my eyes,

Dad had brought home a surprise,

A black and white cocker spaniel,

Just a puppy, but she meant the world to me,

She was happy, playful, and made me smile,

Lady came when I called her, eager to please,

We were two friends, always at ease,

The two of us discovered the world anew,

Bonded by our hearts, our friendship grew,

Sniffing flowers, chasing birds,

I read stories and she listened to every word,

When she was two she followed me down,

 The dirt roads to the grocery store in our town,

We encountered few cars that hot summer day,

 Crossing the two lane county road on our way,

Before I got groceries the owner and I had a debate,

 But he said, “No dogs allowed. She’ll have to wait,”

When I looked for her, she had crossed the street,

Busily sniffing flowers, or looking for bugs to eat,

My first thought was, “She shouldn’t be over there.”

 Without thinking, I whistled, loud and clear,

The shrill sound hanging expectantly in the air,

It was then that I saw a speeding car,

And realized that it wasn’t very far,

At the same time I saw Lady raise her head,

And obediently towards me she sped,

Smiling with every stride,

“Stop, Lady, stop!” I wish I’d cried,

But I was frozen, watching this nightmarish scene,

The car and Lady, the gap closing in between,

There was a loud “Whump!”

Time stopped and I had no need for air,

The car had hit Lady and the driver seemed unaware,

He slowed, then sped up, I knew he didn’t care,

I ran to her and dropped to my knees,

 “Lady, get up! I’m sorry, please,”

But I held a lifeless form tight,

Wishing with all my might,

That this was just a bad dream in the night,

I walked home in a trance,

Angry at myself for what I had done,

“Why did I whistle without a glance?

Why had I done this to my friend?”

Blaming myself over and over again,

 Tears streaming down my face,

Somehow managing to carry her to our place,

Where Mom took the groceries,

Telling me to hold Lady for a few minutes more,

Until I collapsed spiritless on the floor,

The next day a private ceremony with a prayer,

Only family was invited there,

My heart pounded and my head hurt,

And with each shovelful of dirt,

I thought I could hear a whistle blow,

Before I left, I leaned down and whispered softly,

“Run, Lady, run, where the flowers grow.”

One Lonely Rose


One Lonely Rose

One lonely rose greeted me,

I didn’t know why she left our home,

Beneath my window this morn,

It was not logical to be in the world alone,

She tugged her petals closer,

She always forgot to bring her coat and mitts,

While shivering in the storm,

If she needed warmth she wouldn’t admit it,

Her head drooped slightly,

I could tell she was tired and ill,

As she leaned into the rain,

I knew she struggled paying bills,

Against the winds, the mighty winds,

But she had to prove she had the will,

She was determined to remain,

She made it clear I was unneeded still,

Expecting the worst when all had ceased,

Surely after months my love she would lack,

I hesitated before I glanced outside,

Her world must be out of whack!

The delicate rose remained there still,

She did not want me to bring her back,

Bursting with fragrant pride,

Her pride will be her downfall,

I admired her courage as she stood alone,

She had heard freedom’s call,

Smiling as she stood sentinel tall,

She had no intention of giving in, none at all,

Knowing the other roses were gone,

Even to lose love she chose not to bend,

She waited bravely to face the first snowfall.

She would be independent until the end.

(Sometimes in poetry the story is between the lines.)

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