Reunion 2019

Somewhere above the sun
Mor Mor, Far Far,
Grampa and Gramma Hallberg,
Pat, Jay,
Ina, Wes,
Bertha, Bud,
Florence and Milt
shine bright,
smile so proud,
knowing they live on.
Three generations strong
remember.
Still gather
to laugh, love and care.

“Far Far” is my father’s father in Swedish; “Mor Mor”, my mother’s mother. Photos from this past weekend’s family reunion in the Adirondacks. See previous poem for fun pics!

Quadrille (44 words sans title) with prompt word “sun” written for dVerse.

Self Portrait

She asked me,
what makes you tick?
Early morning cuppa Joe
rockin’ rhythms and ocean waves
fireflies and city lights
tap shoes and flying kites.
Talking to my husband dear
crosswords and travel plans
Rockette kicks and hiking sticks
lemon-anything and JP Licks.
I’m a happiness junkie,
unabashedly adorned
in rose-colored glasses
wearing hope on my sleeve.

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Photo from a good number of years ago. Appeared on the jumbotron at the Boston Pops 4th of July concert — in the days when we got in line at the crack of dawn to insure a close up spot on the Esplanade. This year, we’ll be content to watch it on tv.
Whatever your political persuasion, hope you’ll kick up your heels a bit on Thursday and celebrate the freedoms we enjoy. And to my Canadian friends, hope you enjoyed yesterday, your Canada Day!

For Johanna

She left today.
Someone else packed her things
shrink-wrapped paintings
boxed up lamps, books.

But they had no idea
how to fit memories
into the moving truck.
So they left them all behind,

for me.

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Shared with dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. While dVerse take its summer hiatus, I will continue to share my somewhat poetic thoughts here….and invite you to read, like or dislike, comment or not, as you wish. Sometimes the muse strikes, even in the midst of a beautiful summer day!

There comes a time. . .

Developing her own voice
testing her wings,
child no longer.
He understood as a poet does,
metaphorically . . .
you cannot tether a bluebird to your wiles,
no matter how loose the string.

Written in response to Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Linda is hosting and asks us to write a poem inspired by one of six particular paintings by Jacquline Hurlbert. I’ve selected Bluebird’s Journey, with permission of the artist. Find all paintings and information about the artist at jhurlbert.com

Wandering Troubadour

Serial killer, folksong singer,
croons Pete Seeger tunes.
Strums guitar strings
while pressing fret on neck.

Wicked smile then splays his lips
when nightfall comes, he changes gigs.
Metal strings undone from fret
now seek a human neck.

Reminder note:
new strings needed tomorrow.

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Kim hosts Quadrille Monday today at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to include the word “fret” or a form of the word, in our post. Quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Photo from Pixabay.com

I enjoy . . .

making new words
like bubblicious
scantilicious
and summerlicious too.

Merriam-Webster?
Poetic license is much more fun.
Spackle is a muddied sparkle.
Whine is surely weathered shine.

Think about it
and you’ll agree,
playing with words
is fun, you’ll see.

Catapult.
Hmmm what could that mean?
Well it certainly has to be
a tabby tumbled from a tree.

And now dear reader,
tell me true.
Periwinkle. Five-petaled flower
typically, most often colored blue?

Or a pair of stars, way up high,
set all a-twinkle
in the night-time sky.
Those are definitely
my periwinkle!

Image of this almost catapult, from pixaby.com.

 

Number Me Not

Somedaze
life is like a giant Sudoku.
I should fit in here.
So (how) do I?
So-do I do ok
with you?

I’m good with Jumbles.
I can fill in those kind of blanks.
______ and I are ______.
But I don’t do numbers.
Not like that. Not linear.
So not Sodoku.

Can we just
turn the puzzle page . . .
please?
Better yet,
let’s get a different book . . .
can we paint by numbers instead?

I‘m hosting OLN (Open Link Night) at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. Why not drop by and post any one poem of yours so we can all enjoy?  Photo from Pixabay.com