National Poetry Month

Poem for the day.

The Energy of Trees

The cherry blossom tree

By the seaside

Merrily blooming and watching

The tide.

Breezes blow softly through

Its blooms

And rustle the leaves in

The evening gloom.

Bluebirds fly through

The air,

And light silently in the

Trees’ new hair.

A song comes from its

Fragrant depth

And fills each heart

With happiness.

Oh how I would love to be

As beautiful as the

Cherry blossom tree.

Kathy Oddenino          04.27.15

National Poetry Month

Poem for the day.

                                     BUG OFF!

There’s nothing more squiggly, more jiggly, more wiggly –

They make me quite chortley and, I fear, rather giggly.

When I’m first introduced to a beetle or bug,

I must be polite; I can’t simply say, “Uggh!”

“How nice to meet you.  How do you do?

Would you care for a munch on a crisp leaf or two?”

Each tiny bug foot and each leglet minute,

Each proboscis, each feeler – a sensation absolute!

A caterpillar taking a stroll on me

Tickles my fingers tremendously.

Does a caterpillar meandering on a twig or rose

Make it laugh or chuckle, do you suppose?

Carolyn York

National Poetry Month

Poem for the day.

                                       PURRING PERFECT DREAMS

The Cheshire Cat stretches dainty claw-tipped paws,

Reclines, luxuriates on the velvet couch of sky.

A Mona Lisa smile twitches her lips.

She knows

She knows

Knows all

Secrets of the darkness

Flicker in her Chinese cat-glow eyes.

S-h-h-h

She dreams.

Her body gradually melts into moonlight.

Only her     S                         E      remains.

M              L

I

Carolyn York

National Poetry Month

Poem for the Day

HIGH OCTANE COURAGE

                    At  I-95 Cloverdale exit in Winston-Salem is a Shell station.

                        On the hill above is Bowman Gray School of Medicine.

                        On the third floor are cubicles where cancer patients sit

                        for long hours of chemo as plastic pouches of medicine

                       nerve-wrackingly, slowly drip down long tubes

                       pumping rituxan and doxorubicin and bleomycin

                       into veins breathlessly waiting for a cure.

                        Out the broad expense of windows

is a red sign over the Shell station:

                        GET WELL SOON

                        Wearing a cap autographed by his friends,

                        attached to a tangle of tubes and bags

and plugged into a port, my son, age 22,

looks out the window

toward the Chevy Lumina in the parking lot

breathlessly wishing to be on the road.

Carolyn York

National Poetry Month

Poem for the Day  April 15

TAXES

(My apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

Once upon a midnight dreary as I struggled weak and weary

Over a changed Form 1040 I had never seen before.

Back and forth I did the sums, looking for deduction crumbs

Hoping, ever hoping that I’d find a way to score.

But alas twas not my lot to escape an awful blot

Upon my worldly fortune, Uncle Sam keeps wanting more.

My mind grows dim with sorrow, the due date is tomorrow,

And I must find the answer else I’ll end up very poor.

Can I deduct  those gambling debts resulting from my stupid bets?

Should I try to itemize my bar bill from the club?

What about my one contribution, will that not bring absolution?

Surely I can claim deduction for the new pants that I tore.

Alas ‘tis midnight past, and the time is flying fast, and I must find the answer

To the question: How much more?

You may think my answer funny; I'll just send them all my money,

And request that they return to me all that not spent before.

It is now six months gone by, and as yet there’s no reply,

Could it be that Uncle Sam will grant me no succor?

Then the raven came rapping, rapping

The Raven came rapping, tapping at my window door.

Oh! To be so doubly blessed, a messenger from the IRS!

Surely he has come to tell me that my problems are no more.

And I said “Oh bird austere, do you bring me news of cheer?

If you brought to me a refund then together we will soar.

I am down to bread and beans, for I do not have the means

To buy a decent meal.  Tell me Raven,

 Am I affluent as I was in days of yore?

Quoth the Raven, “Never more!”