Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Memorial Day, whenever celebrated, whatever called, is a day we should welcome, lest we forget those who fought and died for the freedoms we enjoy.  Here’s something I wrote for a previous Memorial Day.

 Above us

“In Flanders field the poppies blow…”

And grow, too
(as well they should
given our bones and flesh and blood
gone to fertilizer)

gone to grow
not peace
but yet more war
another layer of human fertilizer
above us

When will they ever learn?

No doubt
never
“Man” being what he is

But there are things worth fighting for
and so we gave our all
(and cheered those left behind
to live and grow
above us)

Spring Sunshine

I position my chair in the sunlight streaming through the front window,
the rest of the house behind me
chill in its winter-to-spring transition.

The heat soaks into my grey fleece top
gradually seeping its welcome way through my skin,
into my bones and the center of my body.

Bushes bow slightly before the wind,
waiting to shed their winter bareness for the new growth of spring,
each bare, brown sword-branch tipped with green.

On the porch, a chipmunk overlooks the buttery daffodils and fragile narcissus
ever so slowly raising their rain-battered heads
from soaked obeisance into erect beauty.

Two goldfinches swoop down, perching in the largest bush,
tiny bird-lanterns heralding the start of another Saturday
as a cloud ship moves regally through the sky ocean.

 

© janet m. webb

Drunk

Posted: April 15, 2017 in Nature, Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

© janet m. webbb 2017

It’s Saturday, which means I’m putting out another Friday Fictioneers story from my archives and I just happen to have one that is about the night before Christmas.  It’s Christmas Eve Day, so how could that possibly work any more neatly, I ask you?  I hope you enjoy this bit of Christmas poetry and also a joy-filled Christmas Eve.

************

copyright-scott-l-vannatter

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
(With thanks to Clement Clarke Moore for the original)

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Just one creature was stirring and it wasn’t a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the mantel with care
Just a jump-able distance away in the air.

The tree looked delightful, amazing to see,
The perfect playground for a Christmas kitty.
The family was snoozing away for the night.
Now was the time for some Christmas delight.

All of a sudden, there arose such a clatter
They rushed down to see the whole lot in tatters.
But in the kitchen, there was nothing to see
Save an innocent-looking, complacent kitty!

**********************
I struggled this week to not run amok and re-write the entire poem because I had some great lines that I couldn’t get in to this version. (May do it another time.) However, I ruthlessly channeled my inner Rich/Nazi English teacher (NOT saying that’s you, Rich, but I know you’ll give me a hard time about it anyway) and pared and re-pared until I actually got down to 100 words, my goal each week just because it is. 🙂  I hope it gave you a good laugh and got you in the Christmas spirit!

Winter

Posted: November 26, 2016 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,

© janet m. webb 2016

I’d planned to do a post on some of Chicago’s architecture that we saw on our river cruise last Friday, but I have a sore throat and runny nose, so I don’t feel like spending much time on my laptop.  Earlier, I was think about poetry and how much fun it was to read aloud to our girls (whether poetry or books.)

As I’ve mentioned before, we had a set of the orange Childcraft books and among the volumes I still have are several with poetry. Poetry is meant to be read aloud, so if you have young children, read it aloud to them.  If not, feel free to read this one of my favorites aloud if you’re somewhere where you can do so without causing people to think you insane.  Or, just let them!

Eletelephony
Laura Elizabeth Richards

Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I’ve got it right.)
Howe’er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I’d better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)

“Laura Elizabeth Richards was born February 27, 1850, Boston, Massachusetts. Her father was a social reformer who later gained fame as an abolitionist and was the founder of the Perkins Institution and Massachusetts school for the blind. Her mother was the poet Julia Ward Howe who is best known as the author of “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

From All Poetry

For more of Laura’s poetry, click here.

© janet m. webb 2016

A new flower blooms
Delicate and resilient
Reaches for the sky

© janet m. webb 2016