Friday, May 31, 2013
this season's spent
Easter lily to my
side-yard assortment of foliage
May 8 --
my summer robe
all the way down against
the coolish, early-morning breeze.
May 9 --
Mother, a bag
of potting soil and a
flat of dianthus that I'll have
May 12 --
our need for moisture, but
on the weekend when a book fair
May 13 --
paint your toenails,
Grandma," the 5-year-old
said. Might as well live it up while
May 18 --
flies to the high
wire, but with the dense oak
leaves, all I can see is its tail
May 27 --
a noisy bird!
Are you a teenager
who hasn't learned to modulate
Thursday, May 23, 2013
World War II poster, from an email
MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND
(a cinquain sequence)
red, white and blue,
my dear mother thumbtacked
the flag across the top of her
never to climb a stool
or ladder without someone near
happened to lose
her balance, black out, fall.
But she didn't, and I told her,
across the street
hollered, "I like your flag!"
They met near the road and chatted
and water, he's
off to "run the bleachers."
"Wanna'go?" he asked her, smiling.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Emma - granddaughter
(a Minute pattern created by the late Verna Lee Hinegardner)
I stand alone beside the spring
before the fling
called Senior Prom.
I need the calm
those water-lilies, frogs bestow.
(Breathe deeply, slow.)
I lean from hip
but then I slip!
My blue chiffon's all crushed and wet
(I don't regret.)
that I can't go!
Thursday, May 9, 2013
pic of southwest bed at Couchwood
[parody of "May You Always" by Larry Markes & Dick Charles, for May meeting of Malvern (AR) Poets]
May's the month we laud our mothers
though we love them all the time.
Give them flowers, gifts or candy;
let them know with us they're prime.
May is always graduation;
school is over for awhile.
Any student you encounter
may have on a happy smile.
May, you always bring the roses
--yellow, red and white.
The privet, honeysuckle, pollen--
allergies both day and night.
And May, you're always such a beauty,
gentle showers, morning dew.
Till the year rolls round again,
we'll say goodbye to you.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Daughter Anna and granddaughter Emma
by Pat Laster
Each day Home Ec teacher Miz Florence
would spew out her anger in torrents.
"Stop talking and clean!"
Girls glared at her--mean.
A dirty fridge was an abhorrence.
A wild English teacher, Aegean,
attempted a task Herculean:
"You'll write every day
a good one-act play."
Her students became quite protean.
World history was Miz Samples' thing--
The difference 'tween premier and king
she carefully taught,
but all was for naught.
Our ears only heard the bell ring!
SIGN ON TEACHER'S DOOR DURING PARENT CONFERENCES THE NIGHT BEFORE THE LAST DAY OF TESTING
My psyche's fragile, weak and frail;
I'm resting for tomorrow's hail
of energy when testing's done
(they'll need some time to hit and run).
Two hundred kids: 'way, 'way too many--
my patience's fled--I haven't any.
So if you have a bone to pick,
please call tomorrow--tonight I'm sick.
[from Variations published 1994]