What? No Windows!

What if there were no windows,

I wouldn’t know what to do.

I sit here most every day,

feel the warmth come through.

I swat the lizards on the glass,

watch the crickets hop away.

Watch squirrels run on the lawn,

and, see the tiger lilies sway.

If there were no windows,

I would never see the rain,

bouncing off the gutters,

dripping on the window pane.

I would never see the bikes,

being ridden down the road.

The woodpecker on the tree,

or the yards getting mowed.

I wouldn’t see the snowmen,

the spring tulips just appear.

Summer rays or autumn leaves,

through the window here.

Mrs. Miller sweep her porch,

or clean her garden gnomes.

Or see you through the window,

excited you are finally home.

Note: My daughters cats are always in the window looking out onto the world outside. This is for my grand cats, Emily and Augie, and the child in all of us. 😊

Photo by Serhat Beyazkaya-unsplash

Linking with Poets United/Susan’s midweek motif “What if”

For http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

Bluer Than The Sky

It’s here I like to hide

here among the green shield

when my heart is cobalt

bluer than the sky

here is where I swallow

swallow all the thoughts that follow

when my heart is navy

bluer, bluer, bluer

when there’s no clouds up in the sky

Photo by Drew Graham, unsplash

Secrets

Just between us,

I use to be as cautious as you once were.

However, trembling hands are becoming,

reliable as the branches of your tree.

Just between us,

I use to be as anxious as you once were.

However, my happiness is becoming,

reliable as the wings that set you free.

Just between us,

I use to be as impulsive as you once were.

However, my needs are becoming,

reliable as the seeds you foresee.

Just between us,

I use to be as secretive as you once were.

However, the long secretive numbing,

reliable secrets are gone, finally I’m free.

Linking with the Sunday Muse

Photo source/Sunday muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Scattering

Photo by thr3 eyes on Unsplash

I wake too late to see the morning glories.

I must face the dandelions,

I don’t mind.

They insist on scattering hope.

Dashing through the day,

the rays of light through the prism,

are too bright for poems.

Night skies draw closer,

scattering sparkle’s.

I’m immersed in the

night blooming jasmine’s

romance novel, and

finally, my nocturnal eyes,

continue scattering poems.

For Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads
Sanaa's Challenge

Coconut!

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

I’m so lonesome for one.

Are you too? Lost there by the sea.

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

Strolling through a palm grove,

in the balmy breeze.

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

Soaring toward the heavens,

strong and, with such ease.

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

Legends, myths, and folklore,

what some foresee about your trees!

But, coconut! O coconut! I want your tree to thrive!

Because, if I could have just one,

I’d need yours to survive! 

Photo by Josiah Weiss-unsplash

Rocky Road

Photo by Levi Guzman Unsplash 

Once I had that one friend

That made me feel as if,

I was an old chunk of iron.

Magnetized me stiff.

Couldn’t wait to hear,

The comic lava flow.

Flowing from her lips,

Volcanic talent show.

Laughing until our ribs,

Couldn’t take no more.

We’d somehow wind up,

Sprawled out onto the floor.

Shopping was our contact sport,

We’d avoid all kinds of hypes.

Bargain’s found, she’d wear hers,

Like a tiger wears his stripes.

I would have never wanted,

To tame that friend of mine.

Inside she suffered deeply,

So, the outside had to shine.

I’m still plain old vanilla.

My mind and body slowed.

But, I know there in heaven,

Sweet Elaine is rocky road!

White-winged Dove

White-winged dove, relaxing in her cooing perch. 

Loving all the silence, welcoming serenity.

Freeing all her willful notions,

Fully from mentality.

Seeking all solutions when,

Returning to reality.

Releasing sufferings of the heart,

Completely from her entity.

Cleansing of her spirit,

Resuming her vitality.

Tranquility of a white-winged dove.

Accepting, heavenly prosperity.

 Linking with The Sunday Muse

life, muse, prompt, tress

Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

Totems

Hands

All shades of flesh, sizes, and shapes.

Often get dirty with scratches or scrapes.

Some may feel smooth or wrinkled and rough.

Or give a quick shake dainty or tough.

Sometimes they're cold or warm to the touch.

And, they often hold hands they love so much.

Sometimes adorned with jewelry or inks.

Hands often serve meals, nibbles, and drinks.

Hands used to signal, salute, and to wave.

Some hands are rude and misbehave.

Enthusiastically placed over hearts.

Even if penniless and used to push carts.

Some believe palms foretell their fate.

Used to plant rosemary by a garden gate.

Hands catch balls or toss caps in the air.

Give you a menu and pull out your chair.

Sometimes used to pull rabbits from hats.

And, even to fervently swat away gnats.


Sometimes used to help people to speak.

Hands help the old, sick, tired and weak.

Lovingly knits, socks, scarfs and sweaters.

And, they write novels, poems and letters.

Sometimes used to throw something away.

Sometimes tenderly held together to pray.

Hands lovingly wipe tears from a cheek.

Whatever they do, all our hands are unique.

A world full of hands from every race.

All belonging here in this beautiful place.                          

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Little Red Maple

Arriving in the August heat

Gently unpacked and placed at our feet

A little shorter than her

Tears making our vision blur

Inspecting every small leaf

Believing it would lesson our grief

A little supporter for her

Merely making our mission occur

Planting in the August ground

Gently placed ashes safe and sound

A shovel of soil and a prayer

Hearing heart burdens we bare

Blessings for growth not yet seen

Wind blowing leaves red, orange and green

A strong limb for the cardinal to nest

A special place for her spirit to rest

Blessed when the years come and go

Finding ourselves sitting below

On a blanket of red leaves on the ground

And, praying to feel her love all around

Blessed to have had her at all

Believing this tree will never stay small

Standing tall, I hope to never see

A poem lovely as this red maple tree

Vicki Rogers

Photo by Grant McCurdy on Unsplash

 

Ragamuffin

Ragamuffin is what they call me

Roaming along life’s back alley’s

In the moonlight or the blazing sun

I’m going to stray

Now, I’ve not lost my way

I’m going to stay

If it’s feline flawless

I’ll put my paws down on the earth I’ve found

Feel the cool breeze rippling through my fuzzy tresses

But, I’ll never settle down too long

Cause, I’m an unruffled natural cat

I’ve got to roam when I hear

The pleasant purring melody

Inviting me to sashay its way

So, look out now

Look out, look out

I’m in town

I love chasing those dreams around

Purr

Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash



Sunday Muse
Roads to somewhere, sunny skies

Blue Eyes

When we first met your dark blue eyes met mine 

A nice long stare 

Like our souls swirled off somewhere to conspire 

The life we’d share

I only have memories of that day

When you were born

Years of pouts, tea cups, singing, cakes, candles,

And, paper torn

Good times, laughter, sharing, sorrow, and tears

It all repeats 

And, it has, and it will again you know 

If our hearts beat

And, when its time for me to wait for you

I’ll find you in the light, sweet eyes so blue 

For Kelly 
Image source: fanpop.com

A Love Letter

Dear Lauren,

I wanted to say hello for your birthday, I love you so much, honey! I remember the day I was at the mall right before your funeral. I was shopping for clothes to wear to it, but all I could think about was you and how much I love you and how much I’ll miss you. I heard the song playing at the store and I even briefly remembered, but my grief was so great at that time to recognize it was from you. The memory is so much clearer now. You, me and Terry riding in the car going somewhere as we often did when y’all were younger. I had purchased a new cd and I remember you in the back seat because Terry had called shotgun, and I remember telling you that you could ride in the front on the way home. I remember me and you playing “New Shoes” over and over again from my new Paolo Nutini CD. I think we drove Terry a little crazy with it. ;) I hadn’t heard that song in years, but now I know that day at the mall when “New Shoes” was playing in the store it was you trying to let me know you love me and that you were okay. I know you knew I would eventually make the connection in my head, because of our occasional conversations about loved ones who have passed, and how we believed they find ways to let us know their okay and they love us. I’ll be listening to “New Shoes “ on your birthday, and remembering a sweet memory of you!

Hey, I put some new shoes on

And suddenly everything is right

I said, hey I put some new shoes on

And everybody's smiling, it's so inviting

Oh short on money but long on time

Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine

And I'm running late and I don't need an excuse

Cause I'm wearing my brand new shoes

(Paolo Nutini)

Love to you sweetheart,

Nana

In loving memory of Lauren Nicole 

08/25/1997 to 07/12/2018

Warm December’s

I fought to fit in where soft snowflakes gently fell upon my shoulders. I can still remember the bitter cold and how it sent shivers up my spine. My ambition overcame my fears when I packed all my favorite things. You don’t know me, but neither did they. I know I’ve not been blessed with beauty, and I’m a little rough around the edges. I know I’ll never have to hear “I told you so”, there’s a talent agent out there looking for someone just like me. I hold my head high when I walk the star studded sidewalks. I know I’ll be discovered, I can feel it in my bones.

I’ve spent several warm December’s here, weaving between casting calls, auditions, and odd jobs. Someday I’ll get my big break and leave these sunny worn walls behind. But, for now I might sip some chamomile tea, and feel the warm breeze as it carries the scents from the cities streets through my window. I’ll recite a few lines to my attentive audience in the room, before I tuck myself into my makeshift bed. Hopefully I’ll have visions of stardom dance through my head on this warm December night.

The Sunday Muse

Courtesy Google Images