Golden Streets

Laying rocks through town
Cottage Grove folks gathered all,
to keep dust away

the people needed paved streets
Gold was in those rocks
mineral testing proved then

Cottage Grove is known as the
city with streets paved
with gold; you can believe it


---Haiku


In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

A Friend

Eighty pounds of joy, laughter without end
never again will I encounter such a friend

Chasing a half-deflated basketball
summers romping among grasses my friend

Brindled and sleek, quick and yet very meek
a kinder dog no one will ever befriend

Winters sharing blankets; cords by the ton
you, staring at the heater, as if a friend

Me now looking heavenward lost, alone
searching for you, my lost and faithful friend


--- a Ghazal




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Wish You Were Here

Greetings:

Wish you were here,
the screeching whimps
in a jungle-wrapped
carcass of loneliness
hold me captive,
struggling for release,

There is no closure,
no opening, no escape,
once in the jumbled
slap-slap-slapping of
tree-whips scourging;
forever crying out
for you.



In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Diminishing

Wishing giant's ladders more stable
so we can put beans at the table
and eat all that we are able

Reckoning myself aground
falling, really, to the ground
frustration round and round

No magic will we glean
no meat or beans for O'Lean
our cupboards bare and lean.


---Diminishing Verse




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Senseless

She lay motionless
water drip, drip, dripping
into the shower
I could smell chlorine
settling in the air,
reaching out my finger
to feel for life, seemed
futile, yet it is what
is done at times like this,
and tasted the last of
life's warm breath.


In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

The Eyes Have It

Do not close your eyes
visit that scene again
where a fist clutches your heart
and rips it out your chest

That scene once seen
will not be undone
so whatever the cost
Do Not Close Your Eyes.





In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Marguerite Annie Johnson

All hail Marguerite Annie Johnson
known to most as Maya Angelou,
Perfume her grave with flowers
and grace the site with baby's breath,
For here lay a rare one we know
Who's heart benevoled many.
Her hands remain unblemished
Aiding all who came to her,
seeking those who might desire.
Chairing, forming, heading groups
to give, give, and give some more,
Ah, never were a poet more nude
or honest, or repaired, than Maya Angelou,
I will count the days till we meet.


---An Elegy




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Goo Goo Dolls!

Goo Goo Dolls, "Black Balloon"


"A thousand other boys could never reach you
How could I have been the one
I saw the world spin beneath you
And scatter like ice from the spoon
That was your womb"

So, um, really? He said it that way,
What does it even mean?
Corny, at best, a very weird day
A crazy man on the scene,




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Blind Escort

A blind man led a blind gal
To a ditch without falling,
Skirting round friendly ol Sal;
Blind, but he had come calling,

"Wait, I've a message for you,
Just a moment of your time,
A minute most, maybe two
And a song and dance sublime.


---An Ae Freislighe



In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Life of a Language

Each day, a language dies somewhere,
an expressive medium declaring beauty,
sadness,
profound skin-shaking
deep-seeded
volcanic joy,
A unique language to a people expressing
a unique people in a language accepting
that their words are life.







In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Sounds Like Tool

We merely insert Synonyms
those toiling at alphabet keys
All's been said double homonym,
Breaking the rules? Oh come now, please,

Dirging and swilling
all's the while
parting ways with chains
and rules. And tools.




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

ERASURE

The rain came harder

larger drops,

miniature marshmallows,

more and more of it,

Grandma's flowerbed right

outside the front window.

The gray light filtering down through the rain

in a dream, a nightmare,

while watching for Daddy to come home

from working in the woods.

---An Erasure

 

 

 

In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fickle Plastics

The people cried out against the trees
"Cut 'em down, we'll be down on our knees
wanting all the green gems back here again,"
We've oceans of plastic to appease.


--- A Gwawdodyn




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Not So Cute!

Having a tea with mother and my friend,
I asked Mom, "As a baby was I cute?"
She smiled, brushing out my tangled locks
Saying I'd been happy, and cute to boot,

I sat there on the couch in front of Mom
As she brushed and brushed my so tangled hair
Fingers happening upon her Winstons
And flipping them into her coffee there,

"Oh", Mom says, surprised and at such a loss,
Should she cry, laugh, what to do with this girl
What's to be done about such a strange thing
As tobacco swirling in a cup-twirl?

"I will say, though," Mom reflexively cries,
"You're cute no more though. Please, God bless my eyes."






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Cat's Game

If there is no point, then it is pointless
To play games in which no one wins, ever.
Some, I know, are let to win regardless
Because they're small, or cute or they're clever

Tic Tac Toe, for sure, is a feline's game,
No one wins, I swear, only mimic moves
Til there's nothing left that isn't the same
As fitting x and o into cat's grooves,

I'm a game cynic; lost many times,
I want to toss those boards and those pieces
Away, bury 'em, cover 'em with lime,
Don't want to play, even with nieces,

I will sit and read books, maybe to you.
Can't fathom a game. A story or two?



---Shakespearean Sonnet






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Goliath

Haunted
Dreams of my pup,
To Babylonia
On camel's backs to a queen's court,
Sad day.


---A Cinquain






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Those Rhomboids

The high, full moon
illuminates a lone rowboat
lilting lazily on the lake,

Upon close exam
the spotlight reveals
a tear-speckled maid,

She can not row
the boat to the far shore;
She's skipped exercise

class for two days
and has not strengthened
her rhomboids






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Hit the Nail on the Head

Holding paper clips between two fingers,
loss devours any sense of solidity,
a void tightening like a vice is
seeking that form to disconnect
as papers flutter to the floor,
Pantomime, if you will,
the correct answer,
all semblance of truth is not lost;
but all motion is truth.








In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

The Valley

A deep path
Through mountains where
All things grow

Endless dew,
Trees reach high
Overhead

Snowmelt buds
All names of floral
Scent and silk

One could walk
Across the valley
West to east

North to south
Would take days and days
To travel

The valley--
Where all the farmers
Grow much here

And ranchers
Raise dairy, or wool
'Tis lovely.

---A haibun




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Memories

A metal key ring
with a winding chain,
always green Dickies, always,
except for the black slacks on Sunday,
black loafers for church,
brown loafers for work,
an orange tilling tractor,
all make up my sweet memories
of Grandpa.




In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

So Many Working Retail

(The prompt: "...write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once.")

So many working retail.
We help, fill, answer the phone,
all while smiling and giving
a great experience


---A Dodoitsu










In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Small Giant

She wears yards
Made of
A
Lot of material
Lest she
Grow
Incredibly fast
And
Nearly rip her
Trousers.


-- An Acrostic






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Great Handfuls of Wind

Great handfuls of wind
were thrown like angry dice
against branch, bud, and bode

A twig dangles, flaunting it's freedom
from the confines of the oak
ready to meet purpose, plot, post

The sun has cast a calm hand
over the stillness after the wild night
of so much rancorous, riotous, rowdy weather.





In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

In the Great Rooster State

In the great rooster state
Censorship roosts on silken nests
It was once invention hatching forth
From the vast territory; first paper
Then printing - spreading words
From scholar to farmer to peasant

Circling back round from peasant
To farmer to scholar, but the state
Blocked the sharing of words
Stuffing them into hoarder's nests
Under mounds of crumpled paper,
Inventions no longer coming forth

From mulberry bark and hemp came forth
A media facilitating friendship of peasants
The folding of tears creasing the paper
Rending the giver a pleasant state
And the receiver a bluebird's nest
Of joy in the sharing of words

Characters upon blocks were words
Copied again from here forth
Lifting love from where it nests
Poetry for scholars and peasants
Living in a magical state
Of printing joy on pieces of paper

Inventive minds hid behind paper
Walls of red, citing king's words
Of props and a jesterflex state
While nothing new has come forth
From scholar, farmer, or peasant,
All ideas have left their nests

In a henhouse full of heavy nests
Brimming with eggs yoked to paper
And people rising far above the peasant
In stature, deed, and of course words
All hail from this day forth
The power of the people state

Peasant scholars of the state
Bringing paper-less words forth
Lining nests with empty words

---A Sestina





In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Shorty Longinchwide

Shorty Longinchwide never could navigate his surroundings very well
he'd just go round
and round
'n round
until he was exhausted and needed to stretch his legs
around his neck
for awhile
Which for some reason relaxed him, you know, resting against a tree or
on the couch
wrapped up
on himself
- he'd get his bearings and be off again to just wander peacefully
he'd just go round
and round
'n round.




*Prompt - play with line lengths.






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

My Squirrel

My squirrel was run over
or into, or down,

it's not important how

he died in the street,
a common death

I know, he wasn't really mine,
he was nature's or God's,

I fed him his favorite peanuts,
watched his springboard antics,
I will miss my squirrel.






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

Abraham Lincoln's Mother

Abraham Lincoln's mother, Nancy Hanks
Met upon a scarce-known tragic end
When poisoned milk she unwittingly drank,
Feverish, vomiting, no one could yet tend
Suffering caused by toxins of snakeroot
When eaten by the young family's own cow
No aid for blockage, trembles, (cleanly put)
O'er Nancy Hank's last painful, awful bow,

Young Lincoln's brow was smeared with mourner's soot,
The milk sickness reveling in it's row,
Until next season, no more lives to claim,
Once the cows find no fodder underfoot
To the green forest shrubs their heads will bow
Ingesting food, oh the folks it will maim.


---Italian Sonnet






In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

The Desert is I

I rub mineral oil on my neck, my ears
Because change comes if you live long enough,
Avocado oil assuages all the years,
My hair has been collecting lint and fluff,

Because change comes if you live long enough,
Dry, this desert I used to know so well,
My hair has been collecting lint and fluff,
If it's to moisten up; only time will tell,

Dry, this desert I used to know so well,
Avocado oil assuages all the years,
If it's to moisten up; only time will tell,
I rub mineral oil on my neck, my ears.


---A Pantoum



In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

Silver, April's Color

Silver, April's color was
     In the hand of March pewter,
Squirming in it's vicious claws

Daffodils of yellow gauze
     Danced to life near the suitor,
Silver, April's color was

When frost bit with it's strong jaws
     Tulips escaped the looter,
Squirming in it's vicious claws

I saw sparrows fight for straw,
      Tweaking bugs like a hooter,
Silver, April's color was

Spring still follows nature's laws
      In line with all birth's rooter's,
Squirming in it's vicious claws

Water 'nough for a horses' trough
     Winter spring will soon neuter,
Silver, April's color was
Squirming in it's vicious claws

---A Villanelle
    

In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!

 

This is Home

Poem 1, NaPoWriMo (a poem a day in April)




This Is Home



This is home,
picking through trash
picking at sores
picking a mark

slaloming shopping carts
of picked shoes,
cardboard, pizza,
from trash can
to bush-house

shivering against blue tarps,
picking at holes
rain drip, drip, dripping
chilling trails of fog

I was once
snuggled safe and warm
in my mother's arms

picking me up from naps
she'd swaddle me,
picking lint from my blanket

I have forgotten

 

 

In celebration of National Poetry Month (April),

I am joining many others in an attempt

to write and post a poem a day.

After years of inactivity

this blog should soon be swirling in words,

if it all works as planned!

 

 

Maureen Thorson has a wonderful site which links to many, many poem-a-day blogs. Be sure to take a look at it, one never knows what one will find!!!



Add caption