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 |    A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination. |
 A log of our magnificent journey. |
| Summer breeze whispered ancient tales, as geese gathered by the stream. Doe and fawn wandered down the trails, according to Nature's scheme. With summer spirits in control, we took heed as daylight waned. Sensory buffet fed our soul, and mystic melodies reigned. We enjoyed the antics of woodland sprites, while troubadours sang about summer nights. Notes on the Ravenfly form of poetry ▼ |
| Remembering those brave young men who stormed the beach at Normandy. Remembering those who gave their all and never returned to those waiting at home. Remembering those families and friends who lost their loved ones forever. Remembering all those who continue to sacrifice so we may be free. |
Poetry is dancing with the language of life-- the tone, the tempo, the shades, the sounds of words, the symphony crescendo of crimson and gold, rising with the sun at dawn. Poetry is the door to discovery opening new perspectives. |
| Mama mia! I've got diarrhea. My normal poop is now brown goop. Too many unholy black bean frijoles. It is so loose, like orange juice. The nasty odor nauseates, among the other traits. The swooshing sound has me bound. Being stuck on crapper is not very dapper. What a catastrophea! |
| A military mom displays great courage and dignity so often in so many ways. She keeps the home fires ablaze with the special ability a military mom displays. Her son is in deployment phase to protect us from tyranny so often in so many ways. With steadfast devotion, she prays to relieve the anxiety a military mom displays. To pass the time, she crochets and burns her pent-up energy so often in so many ways. Still, the burden of the unknown weighs, as she fights to maintain the quality a military mom displays so often in so many ways. Notes on the Villanelle form of poetry ▼ |
| After nine-eleven tragedy, my brother John felt the need to serve, so he enlisted in Marines and went off to fight in combat-- so brave! Over there, he met his destiny-- a fate he surely did not deserve, when bomb blew him to smithereens. So, now we gather with Mom at his grave. Notes on the Brady's Touch form of poetry ▼ |
| There once was a jolly Limerick who went about playing his schtick. He made people laugh with his goofy gaffe. He's not insane, just a lunatic. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPP5IaGGWZ8 |
| My uncle Henry's appetite for life made him want to sample its cuisine through periods of happiness and strife. He decided to become a Marine. Wanting to sample life's cuisine, he disregarded latent powder keg and decided to become a Marine, came back from Iraq with only one leg. After disregarding latent powder keg, he always kept a smile across his face, even though he had only one leg, conducted himself with amazing grace. He always had a smile across his face, despite the handicap of injuries, conducted himself with amazing grace and disclosed a few courage recipes. Despite the handicap of injuries, he demonstrated convalescent flair and disclosed a few courage recipes, learned to play basketball in a wheelchair. He demonstrated convalescent flair through periods of happiness and strife, learned to pley basketball in a wheelchair-- my uncle Henry's appetite for life. Notes on the Pantoum form of poetry ▼ |
| My uncle Igor spent his days transporting clients from hospitals and hospice homes to the Serenity Funeral Home for processing. There, with that black patch over his right eye, he kept shifting his head at odd angles to get the proper shade, as he applied rouge on the cheeks in an attempt to restore some semblance of vitality to each of those cadavers. He tied his long gray hair back in a ponytail to keep it from obstructing his already limited view. Sweet Melissa Simpson, only eighteen years old, presented a particularly difficult circumstance, due to the damage done in that automobile accident. (When will people come to understand the importance of buckling seat belts?) However, Igor met the challenge head on. Applying techniques developed over the years, he primped, prodded, and poked her carcass in preparation for her final visitation. The stench of chemicals required to clean the remains did not bother him at all. By the time he finished, the young woman appeared ready to wake up from her nap and attend her senior prom in that lavender gown. After his day among the dead, he would stop off at the Frankendale Florist Shop to pick up some flowers for the resting places of former clients. Moonflowers for his beloved wife Auntie Esmeralda. Roses for the more traditional bunch. Old man McAlister preferred geraniums, because that was what his wife planted in their garden. Of course, she was another of Igor's clients. While delivering those tributes, his rich baritone voice rolled across the cemetery grounds and invaded the dreams of residents in surrounding neighborhoods, as he serenaded those who have moved on to a higher place. Last Friday, Uncle Igor made one last trip to the Serenity Funeral Home after his daughter found him unresponsive in his bed. Applying techniques he had taught her over the years, his young assistant Dorothea primped, prodded, and poked his carcass in preparation for his final visitation. Would you be available to serenade him in his crypt? My truck driving travels will keep me away, and his daughter's night nurse job at St. Francis Hospital will prevent her from doing so. 359 words |
Frigid Arctic air descends upon us, wreaking havoc without mercy. Ouch! Notes on the Elevenie/Elfchie form of poetry ▼ Let the creativity flow from your soul!  Dave "The Poet's Place "  "CLOSED - Review a Newbie" Let the creativity flow from your soul! Dave "The Poet's Place " "CLOSED - Review a Newbie" |
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