Prelude to A-Z Blogging Challenge

Has it really been a year?  I haven’t been taking the time to write anything but letters, and those have been few and far between.  This will be my fifth year of the A-Z Blogging Challenge. I love it.  It gives me hope. It gives me a reason to write. This year I was going to try to do the A-Z’s of relationships.  Keyword:  was. When I started putting articles together for the challenge … it was just too much of a challenge, not to mention boooo-ring.

I have found that my best writing comes from just doing it. Okay, maybe not the best, but it’s my hobby and I do this for me not anyone else. I learned a long time ago I was never going to make any money from writing. At first that bothered me, I wanted to be the next Stephen King… ha ha (not really, I just wanted to have his fame).  But I’m okay with doing what I do  and if you enjoy reading my blurbs as much as I enjoy writing them, by all means, join me for my A-Z adventure.   A-Z of whatever comes to mind.   Hey, if you want to throw out a topic or maybe a photo for inspiration, send it my way.  I’ll do my best to accommodate. I’m so looking forward to getting back to blogging.  I may even bring Joe and Ella back to life.  I’m excited to be back.  It all starts Monday, April 1st! See ya then!



Yearning for Youth

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Before we grew old we used to be young
Not caring about stupid things we’d done
We challenged the world and played life as a game
We were a force to be reckoned, no one could tame
Rules were broken and laws didn’t hold
We didn’t care our shoulders were cold.
Youth is stupidity let out of a cage
Learning comes slow for the young in age.

As we grew up our youth soon did fade
And soon a year became a decade
Wisdom was earned by mistakes that we made
And maturing in knowledge while our legacy we laid.
We came to a place or a cross in the road
We had to make a choice, would our soul be sold?
Middle age is that time when we learn to be diligent
And use our knowledge to teach others and being vigilant.

When we were young we didn’t think we’d grow old
Thinking back on those stories and the ones we haven’t told
To go back to then knowing what we know now
Would be a lost cause because we wouldn’t know how
To use the lessons we learned through the experiences we’ve had
And our younger years wouldn’t be fun they’d only be sad
Youth is in the mind and when we learn this we’ll find
This game called life, keeps our youth close behind.




If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times

Writing poetry is making up rhymes

Expressing our sentiments and thoughts in prose

In a stance when it’s read rhythmically it flows.


Not everyone shares in this labor of love

If the fingers don’t fit they can’t wear the glove


We rant and we rave and we spill out our guts

Sometimes in our verse we come across as bigots

I suppose that could be true but it could also be false

Otherwise we’d never exceed in this creative writing waltz


Not everyone shares in this labor of love

If the fingers can’t fit they won’t wear the glove


Composing is a game we play in our head

The work never stops, even after it’s fed

Perpetual and constant forever we write

Happily we perform in this never-ending plight


Not everyone shares in this labor of love

If the finger don’t fit, don’t wear the glove.