a blog is a garden.
while well-tended, blossoms appear:
fragrant jasmine, thorned roses,
upright jacks-in-the-pulpit.
when neglected, weeds sprout:
persistent dandelions, stubborn
pigweed, and annoying quackgrass.
mine requires a little TLC,
sunshine, moisture, and copious
amounts of fertilizer. manure.
fortunately i seem to possess
more than enough of the latter
commodity. i’m full of it.
Speaking candidly
aggravates the insecure
liberates others.
Don’t speak down to me
I’m no one’s little woman
I respect respect.
Propaganda earns
only scorn and disbelief
hard truths are preferred.
Wish I’d written this! Read more of her work at movingtowardsthelight.com
If I could paint angels
I would paint angels surrounding me
I would paint all the souls I miss every day
Into life and have them here to stay
I would paint them from my heart
So they could be outside me
And I would never throw
The paintings away
I’ve stopped pretending
reality struck my eyes
there’s no canvas here
blame hesitation
procrastination and lies
forgive my lapses
without my compass
true north escapes detection
I’m left foundering
Rose directs, pointing
Sharp angles of distinction
Circle trapped petals.
Peace, people!
Four days to Texas
Amarillo bound
Can’t wait to see my baby
When I hit that dusty ground.
Goin’ home, after years gone by
Goin’ home, tryin’ not to cry
Tears of joy and happiness
When my baby’s by my side.
Goin’ home.
Three days to Texas
I can feel it drawing near
Like a hot blast of air
And a cold Budweiser beer.
Goin’ home, after years gone by
Goin’ home, tryin’ not to cry
Tears of joy and happiness
When my baby’s by my side.
Goin’ home.
Two more days to Texas
Amarillo here I come
Where the air smells of cattle
And cowboys get work done.
Goin’ home, after years gone by
Goin’ home, tryin’ not to cry
Tears of joy and happiness
When my baby’s by my side.
Goin’ home.
One last day to Texas
Back to my country roots
I’ll put aside my flip flops
And don my old black boots.
Goin’ home, after years gone by
Goin’ home, tryin’ not to cry
Tears of joy and happiness
When my baby’s by my side.
Goin’ home.
And now the wheels are touching
a runway on the plains
broad prairie sweeps around me
It’s different, but the same.
I’m home, after years gone by
I’m home, tears start to fall
In my baby’s arms I’ve finally found
My home.
Truly my bags are packed. I’m off to Texas tomorrow for a Doright family reunion.
Positives (in no particular order):
Negatives:
Peter, Paul, and Mary: Leaving on a Jet Plane. This song always makes me cry.
http://youtu.be/c8jEapecSqc
Peace, people!
Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma’am
Get on the floor for the poetry slam
Don’t be shy and don’t ask why
Just find your rhyme and jam.
Everyone’s got a bit of poesy
Running through their veins.
Sing it or swing it or talk it out
Make a noise, a joyful, raucous
Boisterous poetic contribution
Shout it from the tallest tower
Forget your grown up hang ups
Hang a left at the corner of meter
Where Iambic pentameter plays
And dissonance, resonance, even
Romantic persuasion hold sway.
Pour out your heart and find your soul
Rock and roll and take no prisoners.
Peace, people.
I’d love to be part of a poetry slam. Even if it scares me to death!
An old one, but one of my favorites.
…get out of bed,
take a shower,
brush my teeth?
Must I
…wear a bra,
pull on clothes,
leave the house?
Must I
…drive cautiously,
signal turns,
stop at lights?
Must I
…dodge papparazi,
walk red carpets,
smile for the camera?
Must I get out of bed?
Peace, People!
This bottle of wine was not meant for me. I bought it for the new neighbors across the street. On three different occasions I attempted delivery, and no one ever came to the door.
You know what they say: If on the third try no one wants the wine, it’s mine.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 