Tag: poetry

Blank Space

if i were an artist
and this page a canvas
i might simply leave it
just as it is and exclaim,
it is done!
this is it!
i’ll call it
B L A N K S P A C E

curators might declare
my work the best ever done
and offer it at auction for
thousands of dollars,
bidders would clamor to add
B L A N K S P A C E
to their private collections.

but a writer cannot
leave the space blank.
i tried.

and the writer cannot
type
B L A N K S P A C E
on the page because
that defeats the purpose.

it’s a conundrum, really.

  
I need a DIY Abstract Writing Tutorial.

Peace, people!

Our Christmas Letter To You

Tips? We don’t need no stinkin’ tips.

 

Dear family and friends
It’s time once again
To regale you with tales of our year
So without further ado
Here’s our card to you
The little folks we hold so dear:

My husband climbed Mount Everest
Armed with only a flashlight and pen
There’s a parade planned in his honor
If he ever climbs down again.

Our children are both quite successful
As one might expect they would be
Just one notch ahead on the ladder
Of whatever your kids have achieved.

The grandkids, of course, are the smartest,
Most beautiful, bravest, and best,
Whatever they do they earn straight A’s
And live life with unquenchable zest.

As for me, well I’ve remained humble
Through all of the accolades and praise,
With my good looks and sweet disposition
I’m still approachable on odd numbered days.

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!
And as always, Peace, people!

 

Our illustrious family at Christmas in Nashville last year.

 
 

Most of our family. Our daughter-in-law Liz isn’t pictured.

 

 

Here’s our son and beautiful daughter-in-law, lest you think we don’t allow any photos of her.

 

Praying for Eyebrowz Copyright 2015 by Leslie Noyes.

Kringle Haiku

Kringle, my selfie elf, wanted in on the blogging gig. I told him it pays nothing, but he’s just full of good will and charity. Enjoy:

Every Christmas
Kringle elf patiently waits
For Santa’s signal

Silver bells ringing
Calling across time and space
To all clever elves

“Hurry ho, ho, home!”
Santa cries, “Christmas draws nigh!”
Elves rush north posthaste

Kringle soon will leave
For Santa’s North Pole workshop
Where magic lives still

 
 Praying for Eyebrowz Copyright 2015 by Leslie Noyes.

Golden

rain blessed monday
peace abounds
beads of golden autumn leaves
linked through and around
while squirrels scamper
acorns to bury
in preparation for Florida’s
winter fury.

Our cats, Patches and Scout, insisted that I join them outside on the screened in porch this afternoon. After a brief nap with Scout nestled on my lap and Patches in the chair beside me I began watching the gray squirrels zipping around and hiding nuts like there is no tomorrow. I hope they aren’t disappointed by our dearth of winter weather. Maybe I’ll invite the little darlings inside for hot cocoa.

One Word

if you were told
that starting
tomorrow you
would be
allowed
just
one word
what would
your word be?
mine would be
“peace” people! 

Picasso’s Dove of Peace
 

What word would be yours? 

Sometimes Pain

pain is now televised
pundits ponder the
circumstances

terrorist ties?
white male loner?
more gun regulations?
fewer gun restrictions?

does any of that matter anymore?
have we accepted this as the
usual business?

sometimes pain
overrides the well-worn
patterns,
overcomes the malaise.

i find curses slipping from my lips like wine from a carafe:
emboldened red,
dizzying,
potent.

but please,
don’t show me
i’m all pained out,
the story remains
the same.

Ungrateful Wenches Like Me

they let me vote
even pick out my own clothes
i can also read
whatever, whenever i choose,

but they tell me
this body i inhabit isn’t mine
they try to tell me
i have no right to decide.

they let me think
but on some issues my thoughts
do not have weight
though mine’s the changed life.

one day they’ll find,
this powerful contigent of “theys,”
that wenches like me
don’t listen to theys like them.

  

Yes, I got all political today after reading that a lawmaker in Colorado blamed Planned Parenthood for the recent shooting that occurred at a clinic in that state. Instead, we should blame the domestic terrorist who broke numerous laws and took the lives of innocent people.  We should blame the lies and anger-fueled rhetoric of far right conservative politicians whose pandering to the lowest common denominator among the Republican party lead people to believe that they have the right to break the law of the land. 

Keep your hands off of my reproductive rights.

Peace, people.

Leftovers

turkey on wheat bread
cornbread dressing stuffed bacon
cold pie for breakfast

   
   

some foods get better
on the second time around;
leftover heaven

Studly Doright isn’t a big fan of leftovers except when it comes to turkey and dressing and pecan pie. The man loves cornbread dressing and won’t cease eating until he’s scraped the pan clean. It’s embarrasingly endearing.

I can’t say that I’m any better. After having three generous pieces of pecan pie yesterday I might be the first person in history to have overdosed on the gooey dessert. My stomach spoke to me in angry tones all night long in a way that was anything but endearing, yet quite embarrassing.

It seems that leftovers, like everything except possibly hundred dollar bills, are best enjoyed in moderation.

  
Peace, people!

Platypus Pondering

ok people, i was feeling silly. indulge me.

platypus satypus
the top of a red
double decker bus
contemplating his
fatypus at the end
of the daytypus.

what am i?
pondered platypus,
feeling all sadypus.
a fish or a
mammalpus? the
answers aren’t
clear to us.


  

well, look
countered buffalo
you have live
young, you know
you nurse them,
too, so you’re
definitely
a mammalo.

  

Peace, people!

Broken People

we are
broken
each one
of us
from the
inside
(no matter
how beautiful,
or talented,
or together
we pretend
to be)
there are
cracks,
porcelain
fine,
criss-
crossed
etchings
across our
souls.

 

Kintsukuroi, the art of repairing broken pottery by pouring molten gold or silver into the cracks.
 

we are
whole
each one
of us
on the
inside
(no matter
how battered,
or discouraged,
or frightened
life has
made us)
there are
gold shot
veins of
strength,
defying
all odds
celebrating
our souls’
survival.