Tag Archives: poetry

This is A2Z #atozchallenge

My Haiku

This is A to Z
Blogging trial for companions
Some missions crazy


Wanna Play?

Blogging companions on a mission
To find a word or commission
Fashion a familiarity
With whom that hold a similarity
In writing a composition, without communication
Of a fifth symbol in ABC classification
Straightforward writing with a ballpoint
Collaborations with a buddy to a midpoint
Satisfy with forward mark of your opinions promptly
… who’s following?

This is part of the #AtoZChallenge2021 for the letter E. Think you can play along? Go for it. Just reply in the comments section with a link to your post for the day. Good luck.

Quarter Finals

I’m going to be quiet today because I know everyone else is taking advantage of the Q word no one wants to hear about anymore. It’s been a quandary for all of us and we are tired of it.

Besides, I have fig BBQ sauce bubbling away in the kitchen and need to get that canned up. But here’s a quick poem to make you laugh…

Quarter Finals
Stanley Cup Play-offs

Hockey is my favorite sport
They chuck the puck across the court.

I especially love it when they foul
And when the ref throws in the towel!

When they are down two to one
Three balls, two strikes, oh boy, home run!

Cheerleaders jump and yell with glee
Everyone loves that mean goalie

Peanuts, popcorn and ice cold beer
And people wonder what I’m doing here
Omigosh, wait I think that’s a birdie
Cellphone’s beeping; it’s my friend, Gertie
I love hockey look at that– a hole in one
Instead of that last beer, I should have had none.

See ya tomorrow with the letter R.

Welcome to the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  This year I think it will bring a lot more people together with this crazy pandemic. Being quarantined means people will flock to the web looking for things to do. This is a great way to meet new friends/contacts.  Maybe you will read something new, find a new hobby, or just be entertained by some random musings.  Whatever the case may be, stay safe, drink plenty of liquids and enjoy the trip. 

Painting Pictures with Paper and Pens

Putting up with me is not always an easy chore for my Tall Cool ne. Pens and paper are always scattered around the house. I like my piles of proper writing tools. One cannot have too many pens. He thinks I’m a packrat but I’m not. I just pacify myself with pads of paper and pretty pens or pencils, but I prefer pens with blue ink.

Painstaking is the passion of a writer painting pictures with words we write.

This project or proposal that faces me,
Starts out on paper made from a tree.
Pen rolls ink, and pencil lays lead,
Words come together in chronological thread.
Ideas jotted at first in a mixed array or jumble,
Read out loud it sounds like a mumble.
Rearrange a word here, add a word there,
Pencil in an adjective chosen with care.
Creation comes together, and a short tale is told,
Perseverance, trial and error and sometimes being bold.
Grab a pencil and a pad, and let the lead flow,
Ideals will evolve of things you didn’t know.
A pen makes it permanent; written on paper is neat,
Portfolio of writings for later readings is a treat
Pens and pencils and paper on pads,
Never will be just one of those fads.

Welcome to the A-Z Blogging Challenge. This year I think it will bring a lot more people together with the pandemic we are experiencing. Being quarantined means more people will flock to the web looking for things to do. This is a great way to meet new people. Maybe you will read something new, find a new hobby, or just be entertained by some random musings. Whatever the case may be, stay safe, drink plenty of liquids and enjoy the trip.

Mason Jar Friendships

Much like a cupboard of full Mason jars
Or the midnight sky of twinkling stars
A friend is compassionate, funny and sweet
Whilst some encourage in times of defeat
Sharing a story to brighten a frown
Lending a shoulder to the friend who’s down
Great treasure is found when least expected
Friends will stand tall, when one is rejected
Countless secrets, much laughter digested
Friendships depend on the time invested
Shower your friends with love and affection
Guide each other with positive direction
Relationships built on candor and trust
Will stand the test of time, and never will rust
Friendships will age, as does the garden crop
Work will be done, not without a teardrop
Like an old Mason jar filled with treasure
Finding true friendships is such a pleasure

Thanks again goes out to Berta and Rach who made this awesome quilted tapestry for me.

Welcome to the A-Z Blogging Challenge. This year I think it will bring a lot more people together with the epidemic going on right. Being quarantined means more people will flock to the web looking for things to do. This is a great way to meet new people. Maybe you will read something new, find a new hobby, or just be entertained by some random musings. Whatever the case may be, stay safe, drink plenty of liquids and enjoy the trip.



Stereo-typing is my thing
I really care about bling bling
Seems to count if skin is darker
Color mine with magic marker
Some do things I don’t understand
And from my country I will ban

I’ll build up walls, keep strangers out

From hated lands where foreigners shout
We’ll all travel down many roads
In every place different moral codes
I’m not like you and you’re not like me
This world we live in, it’ll always be.

X is not my favorite letter
Next year I’ll try to write it better.

**Side note:  these are not my personal views.  This is simply a dumb poem for the X letter in the blogging challenge.

She Snores


Every night she goes to bed,
Marks the page of book she’s read
Kisses husband, prayers said,
On a pillow lays her head

Through the window, view the moon,
Tired, weary, sleep comes soon.

Blanket covers chubby legs,
In the morning, she’ll cook eggs.
Sleep will come but so will plagues
The soft palate of breath reneges

Softly purring like a cat
Calmly sleeping on a mat.

Darker the night, purrs endowed
Like a chainsaw boasting proud
With a pillow face enshroud,
Drown out sound of breathing loud.

Ghastly sounds come from her head,
Snoring beast upon the bed.


Philomena’s Parade

Each day Philomena leads the parade
Through a buttercup field never been hayed
Heifers and steers they trudge across the land
No knowledge of what their owner has planned

“There’s no money in it,” claims panjandrum
Why does he raise them?  It’s a  conundrum
Dumb old man, who will excessively boast
He raises the meat but won’t eat the roast.

Sun peeks up from the horizon, east
Dew covered grass swaps grazing bovine feast
Baby calves frolic with their tails up curled
Beyond that fence is a divergent world

Sometimes I want to break down that old fence
Let cows run free, I’ll suffer consequence
But a cow is not a pet, won’t house train
Dwells in a meadow; grazes off terrain

I’ll watch from my window as livestock feeds
Down comes the fence with imagined stampedes
Philomena named for big cow mama
Greatly loved by all; she’s an enigma

When the moon grows full and the breeze turns hot
Young calves flaunt themselves as they were taught
Across the pasture the path is well laid
One by one, Philomena’s parade.


Merewood’s Mountain

Merewood’s Mountain

“Build it, and they will come,” the words rang loud,
Though dead twenty years, father’s voice still proud.
It wasn’t just any old mountain top,
When stars aligned, underground springs would pop,
Water gushed shades from inside the rainbow
A fireworks show, made from water-flow.

Few had seed this Mother Nature’s treasure
Merewood staked people, paying for pleasure
A few rustic cabins, and camping spots,
A chain linked fence secured one thousand lots
People paid money for a vacation
Relax, enjoy: secluded location.

No one knew when colored waters would spring
Merewood gambled on the money it’d bring
Years passed by and no colors ever came
Merewood’s Mountain would never be the same
Flash back to his dad and what he had said,
Words still rang loud even though he was dead.

He removed the signs of rainbow geysers
Invoked help from vacation advisers
It wasn’t the water they came to see
It’s someplace different they wanted to be
A cabin on a hill far, far away
Left behind routines of the day-to-day

Merewood’s Mountain, you must know it well
When you pay to get away from where you dwell.


Helmar’s Handbag

Helmar’s Handbag

He carried it with him wherever he went,
From inside came nickels and dimes which he spent.
But that wasn’t all he carried in his bag,
It was his whole life, since he’d turned scalawag.
Pictures, trinkets and a tube of red lipstick,
His life now nothing but a nasty limerick.

There’s a he-she on the street corner
Who once made movies as a porn’er
Now he’s just a ‘has been’
Doesn’t care for women,
But Helmar’s handbag will always adorn ‘her’.

Without even knowing he creates a trap,
For the same patrons who toss coins in his lap
Frequently customers will buy him a treat,
Till someone comes out and yells at him “Beat-feet!”
He gathers up his things and looks all around,
Helmar with ‘her’ handbag sashays out-of-town.

There’s a young stud from El Camino’s
Panhandles change for frappuccinos
If it weren’t for Starbucks
He’d yield to hailing trucks
And he wouldn’t be drinking cappuccinos.

Eloquently Eccentric


An odd set of earrings hang from one ear,
Under her left eye, a tattooed red tear.
Her clothes are not rags, but somewhat frumpy,
Hailing from town known more than less dumpy.
Attitude is choice and hers is portrayed
By the smile on her face, daily displayed.

No ring on her finger yet to be found
Her prince has not come, ever to be crowned.
Gracing an audience of birds in the park
When the sun comes up until it turns dark
Singing a song from the top of her lungs
Singing the same song in so many tongues.

Those who don’t know her may feel she’s a threat,
She just misses being part of the quartet.
Her mind went astray along with her friends,
The family she had, left with dividends.
She fends for herself and lives all alone
Don’t confuse her with those on methadone.

She was well-known at one point in her life
It wasn’t what you think, just a housewife
She cooked and cleaned and she took care of tots
Until she got lost with trivial thoughts.
So now she just sings a song she once knew,
Of life gone by before she became you.


Aspirations of the Asinine

Aspirations of the Asinine

Every day will be perfect, and nothing will ever go wrong,
Difficult choices are only made in a sad country song.
We’re all equal; no nepotism must we live through,
People understand us and see things as we do.

Why can’t we all just get along?
In a world we just want to belong.

Our relationships are harmonious, always pure,
Never an unkind word to cause us to feel unsure.
Marriage always comes first and daily life is perfect,
Children visit often and there is a repetitious show of respect.

Companionship never obscure
Family-life forever secure.

Those on the government dole should be  made to take a job
Something simple, anything, even Walmart greeters can hob-nob.
No cell phones,  no hair-dos , no fancy nails or vacations,
There is no more  system abuse, nor celebrations!

They don’t work for the mob
They sit around like a slob.

The business world is fair and compensation is by merit
A position is earned, it’s not something you inherit.
We can still make a living by honest hard work.
There are no dirty looks from the DMV clerk.

I just want to eat a carrot
‘Cause my boss sounds like a parrot. 

Dust bunnies are never found under the bed,
Yard work is always looking fine on the homestead.
We always have plenty of money and plenty of time,
To do the things we want with the turn on a dime.

The hungry will always be fed,
‘Everything is perfect in our head.’ 



Sometimes intentions are misunderstood
Taking on more than we probably should
To our chagrin we fail others desires
Passion sucked out like blood-thirsty vampires

We strive to please and make everything right
Even when we win, we’re still in the fight
It is certain always we will have strife
Betrayals and downfalls cut like a knife

His power, His glory is full of grace
Mistakes we’ve made we need not feel abased
Not focusing on failures – take a peek
For in our hindrances, HE we must seek

A world of our own apart from the rest
Our goal is perfection, to be the best
Though it won’t happen while living on earth
Corralled together his chosen rebirth.

The blogging challenge is over, but I still have that desire to write and share and help others where I can.  Thanks to Robyn for this picture of Inspiration.  Hope this inspires you as well to trudge on, even when you feel like you can’t win… you can.

Zoo Zone

CSA’s must be a little zany
‘Else one is deemed to be just a trainee
We strive for perfection quite like zenith
Able to handle the worst Goliath

Satisfy the customer in the Zoo Zone
Careful not to urge the testosterone

Zombie on the line trying our patience
Tolerate the crass with certain cadence
Pushed to the limit by a scalawag
Some wacky tobacky in a zig zag

We serve our customer in the Zoo Zone
Being fully aware of our voice tone

Offer up some homemade zabaglione
Perhaps a free ride on a Zamboni
Invite the customer with zealous appeal
Satisfaction is hopeless without zeal.

Some days we’d like to be left all alone
But we’re loyal servants in the Zoo Zone.

Footnote: This year I decided to go with the A-Z of Customer Service. I’ve complained too long that customer service isn’t what it should be. Tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor. He put me in a position make a difference in what I think customer service is and should be. This month I will share with you what I’ve learned about successful customer service. Hope you enjoyed the ride.  Love to hear all about your customer service experiences from both points of view.  Share them in the comments section below!


People Pleasing

Put your service to the test
People pleasing at its best

Problem solver is our nickname
No promotion, no hall of fame
Hear the issue, try to fix
From a bag of fix it tricks

Listen and apologize
Correct issue, gratify

Greet each client with a smile
Let them vent for a while
Acknowledge issue and empathize
Evaluate and summarize

Hear them and apologize
Ask questions and satisfy

Recall patron, make it right
People pleasing agent’s plight
Be kind, gentle, always nice
Mediocre aid won’t suffice

Hear them out, apologize
Make it right, satisfy

Put your service to the test
People pleasing at its best

Check out last years People Pleaser Post 

Footnote: This year I decided to go with the A-Z of Customer Service. I’ve complained too long that customer service isn’t what it should be. Tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor. He put me in a position make a difference in what I think customer service is and should be. This month I will share with you what I’ve learned about successful customer service. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Yearning for Youth

Scan_20140520 (2)

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.




Quadruped Quimby


While planting in the yard I noticed a hole,
Remote and camouflaged, near a kobold knoll.
The dirt was pulled out in a small little mound
Deep inside for a quadruped, a home had been found
Never would have noticed this queer tiny friend
But the roses were blooming and I needed to tend
When I peered into the ground two eyes peered back
I feared for my life this tetrapod would attack
I ran for a shovel but only found a rake
To fill the hole in the ground for everyone’s sake
I ran from the shed after a swig from the flagon
I returned to the hole and there stood a small dragon
At first I was scared but then I could see
He was just as frightened, even more so than me
He promised he’d be kind and wouldn’t hurt a soul
If he could just live in that hole down below
With contemplation and thought I finally agreed
In the garden he could stay if on the bugs he would feed
He pledged no flowers but only insects he would dine
Now I only see Quimby when I drink of the wine.


Odd Ode

Once when I was little I played with a Ouija board
It started talking and I threw it overboard
Often opportunity will knock at the door
Ordinarily in objectivity I don’t outscore
Occasionally I’m mistaken for being obstinate
Because with my opinions I’m very passionate
Often there is optimism is in my outlook
While I organize oxymoron phrases in my notebook
I try to be open-minded when it comes to oppression
But sometimes vengeance becomes an obsession
I know some people who are wicked ornery
I am too when the egg drops from the ovary
I have an overwhelming desire to complete this challenge
Cutting it short today, so I can go eat an orange.


Mother Goose

Mother Goose

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat where have you been?

Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes
Ring-a-ring of roses, a pocket full of posies

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son
Stole a pig and away he run

Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you?
With the old woman, who lives in a shoe?

Four and twenty black birds baked in a pie
Georgie Porgie made the girls cry

Jack and Jill went up the hill
Humpty Dumpty soon fell ill

Little Bo Peep lost all of her sheep
While Little Boy Blue fell fast asleep

Little Miss Muffet ate curds and whey
And with the spoon the dish ran away

The three little kittens began to cry
And little Jack Horner stuck his thumb in a pie

Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea,
He’ll come back and marry me.

Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper
Polly put the kettle on, Sukey took it off again

Hickety, pickety, my black hen
She lays eggs for gentlemen

Simple Simon met a pieman
Peter, Peter pumpkin eater, had a wife but couldn’t keep her

I met the crooked man who walked a crooked mile
And spent the crooked sixpence against the crooked stile.

Just some  beloved Mother Goose rhymes
The poems that I read in earlier times.

How many do you remember?

What’s your favorite Mother Goose Rhyme?


Lauren’s Lullaby


Whispers sweet words from that mouth of hers,
Into her den, the innocent she lures.
Promises of fortune, longevity, and fame
Those who fall are never the same.

Do this for me and you will see
Machiavellian is really quite easy
Follow my lead and sip of my tea
We shall rule together, and you will spy for me.

Her techniques are smooth, skilled as knaves
Building a harem of lickspittle slaves.
Promising incentives while building anticipation
As she wheedled each with subtle flirtation

Do this for me and you will see
Machiavellian is really quite easy
Follow my lead and sip of my tea
We shall rule together, and you will lie for me.

She forbids them from visiting former friends
Threatening to eliminate their nominal stipends
She has intertwined them before they realize
Her lullaby is just a legion of lies.

Do this for me and you will see
Machiavellian is really quite easy
Follow my lead and sip of my tea
We will rule together, and you shall die for me.


Side note: By no means do I mean any disrespect to Cait.  I think she is lovely, and this was the perfect picture for my character Lauren.

Jargon Jabberer


We call ourselves Jack-of-all-trades,

While poker hands come up all spades.

This writing job we encounter jerks,

And rarely enjoy a rich man’s perks.

Journalism is our skill of trade

Unfortunately never well paid

Taking words and juxtapose

Into rhyming jargonizing prose.

Some of us are known as a Jesus freak

Till we learn how to teach while being meek

Journeying through this annual dare

Justifying to ourselves why people stare

John Barleycorn was an interesting fellow

In Maine some people speak in joual.

I’ve jabbered on quite long enough,

Joie de Vivre and always stay tough.

The Challenge

JNew Image

Holding Henry’s Hand

Holding hands

Staring out the booger stained window
Sat in the front seat, the school yard weirdo.
His clothes were worn and his hair unkempt,
Poor Henry was always held in contempt.

Seats were assigned back in the day
Until a bad storm that happened in May
Roads were closed and routes redirected
Former designations were rejected.

School bus filled with many new faces,
Colors, ages and even races.
The students were older and conversant
As I stepped up the steps I felt lucent.

No familiar faces could I see,
Except for the kid, known as Henry.
He was alone except for his book
With reservation the seat I took.

The ride was rough, many roads closed
Through it all, Henry stayed composed
As the bus drove through treacherous land
I remained calm holding Henry’s hand.

The Challenge


A Friend


I really did not want to use Friend for the F challenge. But it’s the one F word that keeps coming back to me. In my humble opinion too many people will use the word “friend” without knowing the true meaning of what being a friend is.

“I have four hundred and seventy-six friends on Facebook.”

I don’t but some people probably do. A friend is a person whom one knows well and is fond of. Friendships are not easy and they are not to be taken lightly. If you have accepted the challenge to be a friend you might as well give in to the fact that it is going to be hard work. You need to reach out to be a friend to that person more than they reach out to you.  It’s not just when it’s convenient or to celebrate something. It’s all the time.

I hate Facebook although I partake. It seems like people think  “oh if you want to know what’s going on with me, just look at my Facebook”. I suppose that is the new age wave, and I’m getting old, and I’ll deal with it in my own time.

For now I will still share my opinion and shoot off at the mouth. Friendships are not easy, it takes hard work from both participants. Not just fair-weathered, and not just when there is a need for something. Friendship is four seasons. If you have a good friend… tell them how much they mean to you and how special they are. I can tell you it sure does mean a lot to me when I hear from my four friends.

This term friend I have to ponder
In my mind I let it wander
It’s the unexpected places
In unpredicted faces
Where one will saunter
And a friend that we will find

When I was young
And in grade school
One friend I had
And thought was cool.

But then I disapproved
Around the time of junior high
With her parents she did move
We cried and had to say good-bye.

Another friend came along
And took the place of she,
But it wouldn’t be too long
Before I would finally see
That her motives were all wrong
And she wasn’t really a friend to me.

She used me for her personal gain
And took my friendship all in vain
Someone else had more than me
So she moved up in society

One more friend I gave my heart
Everything clicked right from the start
But we were young it wasn’t right
She upped and left, gone one night

A lesson hard, a lesson learned
Then in a job a friend I earned
This friend who said that I could trust
Shame on me it was all for lust

Dismissed was I and he moved on
The friends I had were now all gone
Another job I did pursue
Working hard without issue

A different job, more so-called friends
Staying late to make amends
It all worked out for a while
But then my friends were in denial

They drained my heart and ate my soul
Cleaned my thoughts just like a bowl
I had to leave and get away
Who needs a friend anyway?

We all need friends
To help us grow
And feel complete
In all we know
If you have a friend
You deeply adore
Tell them once
Then tell them some more.

The Challenge