Slow Eater

Grandma would tell the story
of a time when she was in college
during meal time.

They had a house mother
for each dormitory assigned to them.

During meal time girl students
would eat in the dining area
chatting and eating.

She told us there was rule
during eating meal time:
All girls must wait until
everyone was done eating
before leaving the table.

She would sit down to eat
and friends would not sit
with her.

“Sorry, Betty, I have class
and can’t stay long til
you are finished.”


“Sorry, Betty, I have to
eat quickly because I have
to be somewhere.”

So, they would at another table
well, Grandma sat with only few
other girls at the table,
who didn’t mind waiting for
my Grandma to be finished eating.

“You, eat to slow Betty”,
they would say.

She still is a slower eater
til this day as at every
meal she is the last to finish.

April 17 prompt from this site

She Comes A Flight

From distant lands she comes a flight
On eagles wings perched high
Her golden hair like rays shine bright
Eyes of sea blue catch the light
Where she comes I do not know
Upon eagle wings she fly on
Scouring for what I do not know
Over lands that stretch far and wide
She searches throughout the sky
Some kingdom hidden among clouds
So soft and billowing are the walls
She is a warrior with her bird
Flying high above the skies
Seeking entrance to kingdom in the sky.

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.

Cowboy Coming Home

From the west he came a ridding,
Riding on big bay horse, he came
A ridding with the sun rising high.
He came into town a ridding
Down the dirt street of the town,
He came a trotting into the town.
He came because he had to;
A girl he left behind
He was a cowboy who was gone to long.

He rode pass the wooden building
To the other side of town
To a small little house near the brook.
Stop he did at the little house
Jumped right off the horse
Bounded to the door in one stride.
Hat he off he knocks at the door
Answered by a women’s voice
Door opens wide to the cowboy.

“You’ll alive and your home!”
She said throwing her arms
Around his neck, he holds her tight.
Then she stops, steps back a pauses
Said, “You shouldn’t have back here;
Town has changed since you left.
“What has happen,” he frowns
Sensing that the town was right
As he trotted his horse through.
“Gang of men, dangerous men,
Moved in a few months ago,”
A sad look a upon her face.

Took over the town they did,
Ran the sheriff straight out
Of town, townsfolk are not about.
What do, no one will stand up,
No one to fight back
Sometime must be done he knows.
He turns to leave to start his plan
She stops him ginger and beg him
To stop, don’t do this we’ll run away.
He says, “This is my town too,
Grew up and what to pass on here,
Must do something will not let it go.”
jump on his horse, away he goes
Back the way he came, Back to
The town he rode through he goes.

Before sundown he rides through town,
To the saloon he knows his answer he will get
One way or another he will make the town alright.
Reins in, off the horse, to saloon he walks in
Bellies up to the bar, bartender comes,
Cowboy orders a drink, eyes around cautiously.
“Where can I find the gent, who took over this town”
He sips his drink; eyes the bartender
“Over there in the corner”, comes reply.

Finish drink; to the corner he goes
To confront the foe he know must go,
To make the town alright again.
“I’ve heard what happen here,
You must take your men and go;
If you don’t I think you know.”
“No, I don’t”, he said with a sneer
“This my town do you hear,
Go now and take care”
“I am calling you out,
I will meet you in the street,
We’ll see”, cowboy says determinedly.

Cowboy walks out to street
Patting his gun at his side;
This must be done with a sigh.
In the middle he is ready;
His adversary comes out in no time;
Leads two others; henchmen no doubt.
Positions are ready; down they look
Hard tense stares to one another;
Time has come; Who will win?

Seconds turn to minutes;
The townsfolk are safe within;
They watch, wait for who will win.
Fingers moves fast, guns out;
Deafening roar is hear from afar;
Dust settles the grounds of three dead.
Still standing cowboy holsters gun,
Cheers come out from townsfolk near,
Others sulk away to where we don’t know.
Leader of the gang is dead,
Town back to the folks; they ask their hero;
Be our sheriff; we need you here.

Decline the offer he knows he cannot;
Accept he will, protect the town;
From the crowd someone draws near.
His girl; love of his life,
“You are alive”, she kisses him,
“Yes, I did it all for you”, he says.
To the horse hand and hand;
He jumps up and takes her with him;
Back to the little house they go.
Off they trot into the sunset they go;
To their home they ride on;
Knowing town safe from harm.

April 12 prompt. Write a narrative poem.


I open your cover;
what can I see?
You give me a thrill;
what I can find on each page.
You draw me into your words
Fresh, fun and full of life
Making your scenes jump out;
To greet me on your pages.
You draw me into another world
You and me travel the story;
Down all the way to the end.
I wish it wouldn’t end
To see you go I will not send.
Move slowly I will through you
So I can savor your pages all night long.