Poet Epitaph

He was a poet of his time
But he couldn’t rhyme.
Great poems he wrote abound
But now he lies underground.
No more will he write from the heart
For poems was where he got his start.

April 30th prompt. Write an epitaph, for yourself or someone else. This is the last poem for poetry month of April.

Day On The Street

Breeze whips lightly across my face;
Sun shining warmly down upon me
As clouds ride slowly by;
Like giant puff up marshmallows
Ready to pluck one out of the sky to eat.
Slowly my dog and I amble along
At a casual pace enjoying the day.
Seeing the first buds appear on trees;
The grass waving back and forth;
Finally has a feeling like Spring
Has come at last from oppressive days
Of cold, dreary, rainy weather.
Seeing the flowering blooming
With butterflies roves from flowers
To flowers to linger on each for moment
I give thanks for this special walk
OF having my dog and I enjoying
Such a beautiful day walking on the street.

April 29th prompt. Write a walking poem.

No Moon

Driving home in the darken night
Rain clouds cover the distant horizon;
No beams of moonlight shine
For the moon is hidden from sight.

As I drive cloudy skies give way
To a small opening not wide;
But wide enough to see through;
Could it be the moon I say.

For tonight is a new moon
With bright shining beams;
Which one can sink under its glow
For there is plenty of room.

Alas, no moon presents itself tonight
For the clouds mix into the sky;
Dreary, windy for a storm is coming
On to the horizon this very night.

April 28th prompt. Write a poem about the moon, based on a moon viewing.

A Story From The Past

I looked down at the grand-kids gathered around
Telling about how I knew Aunt Janey
Who use to live on farm with cows
Telling wild stories to anyone she met
And I remember when she was young
Would tease the boys by whipping her ponytail
In their faces, giggle and run away.

She tells about a time when every road was dirt;
You would walk barefoot to school in the Summer
Her brothers Joe and Andy would have Aunt Janey
Run up a ways; give the count down to which
the boys would try to beat the other and Janey;
Who was at the finish line.

And I remember another time she told an old woman
Who lived in a shack on a hill; who had a dog
That would bark its head off all day long
But this old woman didn’t try to stop him
For she couldn’t heard anything at all;
She was plum deaf; neighbors had to come
To take the dog away she still didn’t know
The dog was missing for five months
Till she called out one day and he never showed.

Aunt Janey, I will miss those stories
And the times I use to run through cow pastures
At your farm on those sunny days on vacations
Where everything looked like from the olden times
Was a great escape to a city life boy of the 50s.
But I still hear that sing song voice of yours
As those stories came alive right in front of my eyes.

April 27th prompt. Write a poem that is a story told by someone other than you.

Not Amazing Life

So, I did write
About Life is amazing;
But life is not amazing
For there is
A limit to possibilities
That make each day
The same with no change;
Nothing to wait or open
For who has time to discover;
In a busy world.
There is nothing in the fields
Or across the distant seas
Or above the skies;
Life is not an amazement
of any little things
For who is busy to enjoy it.

April 26th prompt. Write a palinode in which you retract or take back a previous poem of yours. I chose the Life Amazing poem written July 27, 2012. Even through I love the original poem this was an easy one of the many poems to retract or take back.

Coming Rains

Gray skies appear moving in slowly
Across blue skies yonder; looking threatening.
I watch safety inside as the rains
Begin to poor down in buckets
Upon the ground brown; waiting for their drinks.
Birch tree empty of leaves rustles
Saying, yes, rains come so I may bloom
for this coming Spring; I will show off my leaves.

Rains continue as sky turns to black
For night has come to close the day.
I see white picket fence from window
splattered; getting pelted by the rain storm
That continues coming down; no letting up.
From my window I still hear the birch tree
Soaking up the need rain from above.

April 25th prompt. Write a poem about a color or colors. Include black, white, and gray. After you have drafted your poem, plant a tree in the poem.

Today Camera For Mathew Brady

What is this small box I wonder
for you say you can take photographs
with it? So small, I can hold in one
hand. Black box looks magic. I show
you all the big lumbering equipment
you would call a camera. So much
preparation in setting one photograph
up take a portrait. May I use this
invention of your time; for this
brings more fascination them anything;
Mathew Brady, famous Civil War photographer
addresses a group photographers at a club.

April 24th prompt. Write a poem about a person no longer living. Tell what he or she would be doing if alive today. This a second one, I had two ideas so I wrote two.

Washington Here And Now

George Washington comes
striding into today’s Congress
giving them a blustering of
remarks of how things are running.
“You, politicians are falling
to far short from what I
proposed in my last farewell
address”, he shouts trying to hold
those wooden teeth in that
have seen better days.
“I had mentioned no political parties.
Now look what thee have done;
a mockery of our founding principles.
Why can’t you not agree on the issues?”
The others in the room just stand there
staring, till one says, “sorry Mr. Washington
we will never find common ground at all.”

April 24th prompt. Write a poem about a person no longer living. Tell what he or she would be doing if alive today. I decide to write two of them, this is the first.

Great Room At Grandmas

We are told not to go in yet;
wait on the stairs till all seven
of us cousins are seated on the stairs.
We watch from our perch peeping over
eyes wide in wonder on Christmas morning;
waiting for the signal to bound in the
Great living room to open presents.

Endless wait as parents go and check;
then say they need to get their coffee
before letting us in. Waiting to long
the camcorder comes out ready to follow
every move we make from the stairs to
where the presents and stockings await us.

Finally ready our parents give the go 1,2,3;
go see what Santa got you all this year. We
bound off our perch running our little legs
to the great living room. A room where memories
are made and families get together for the holidays.

Piles of presents greet us as we enter
each of us finding our name; rushing over
to ripe open with delighted child enthusiasm.
Wrapping paper, boxes are laid out after a couple
minutes of ripping through the contents to
see what we receive from Santa.

Christmas tree sparkles it lights
as we all parents and kids sit around
the room soaking up the Christmas Day
atmosphere and wishing the day would never
end. There will be more Christmases but
us kids don’t stay young for long
before one by one we start our own
families and Christmas Day traditions
and coming to Grandma’s house is now
only for Christmas Eve as part of cousins
go home to their families for Christmas Day.

April 23rd prompt. Write a poem about a room.