New Poetry Forms

I try my best to try new forms
I count and rhyme and count and rhyme
Oh, alas it takes so much time

How to count oh, I'm so forlorn
Why do I try when I'm so shy
Each time I try I can't conform

I acquiesce as well decline
I try my best to try new forms

This is my second attempt at Octain, a new poem form, invented by

 by Luke Prater for One Stop Monday.

Seasons

The essence of lilacs in spring

 Baby Robins first flight sightings

The warmness of the summer sun

by the lake when our day is done

The splendor of  fall so tender

Winters snow blanket surrender

Our seasons spontaneous flings

like the scent of lilacs in spring

The Octain is a new poem form, invented by

 by Luke Prater for One Stop Monday.

♥ Serendipitous Find ♥

I love to frequent antique barns, you know the ones that are jam packed full like a treasure trove from long ago.   All those past treasures, usually evoke so many memories, sometimes with melancholy attached.    I’m not one of those collectors who have 100 clocks or 50 egg cups.  I  consider myself to be  an emotional collector, one who discovers a serendipitous connection, where the unexpected find creates happiness and a feeling of being in the right place at right time.I’ve  experienced moments of serendipity and I must tell you, it’s an amazing happening!  Last year while visiting our local antique/craft barn I experienced one such out of the ordinary encounter.  As my husband and I wondered through the museum-like barn, there on a shelf in front of me was a lovely vintage calendar.  I was drawn to it and noticed  the date–

April 1917.

The calendar was from a shop called Neill Shoe Store which use to be in the town where we now live.  The picture they used caught my eye.  At first glance I thought it was of  Mary, as in Mary had a little lamb, but with closer inspection it proved to be Little Bo Peep. 

Now for the serendipitous part…

Although, it was Little Bo Peep,  the art picture for me screamed Mary had a little lamb at first glance.  My mom’s name is Mary.  Her father had a pet name for her where he called her “Little Nell.”  The name of the store, Neill Shoe Store.  But what finally did it for me was my Mom’s date of birth.

Mary Helena {Nellie} Johnson was born on April 6th 1917

The Storm

The enduring stifled blackened sky took shape

As the day moved on unnoticed

Clouds began to foretell of the immanent deluge

A perilous threat now exposed

The wind let lose,
untethered with frightful gusts

Swooped by the frayed piling

The great conifers twisted

A thunderous warning on all sides of the

bleak and desolate watchtower

For One Shot Wednesday

˙·٠•●♥ Hɑppɣ Møtɦɛяṡ Daɣ ♥●•٠·˙

ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ 

˙·٠•●♥ On this Møtɦɛяṡ Daɣ ♥●•٠·˙

you rεflect upon thε Mothεr you wεrε blεssεd with , 

I am truly thankful for my Mom and today I εspεcially miss hεr.

If your Mom is still in your life takε a momεnt to εxprεss your lovε,

make her feel truly blessed, you will be glad you did

˙·٠•●♥ trust mε ♥●•٠·˙

ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ ♥ ℒℴѵℯ

~ A Mothers Day  poem I wrote at age twelve ~

On this page of lily white

I'll try to put what I might

I can't seem to think of what to say

I just hope you get the message anyway

I'm speechless as you well have guessed

But I'll try to do my very best

You've helped me along through the years

You taught me that there's nothing to fear

You covered for me when I was wrong

And now I know where the pieces belong

There's still a lot to learn I know

So stay around and help me grow

To grow in mind and not in body

I know that as well as anybody

Remember this day as no other

Remember, because you are my Mother

Money, I have none today

So I wrote this poem

Happy Mothers Day

...............*☆.........
...........*☆.¸.☆*'....
.........*✿❀✿❀✿*'....
.......*❀✿❀✿❀✿❀*'..
.....✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿.
.....¸.☆*❀✿❀✿❀*☆.¸¸
..........\\\||///...
...........\\||//....
...........ஜღஜ...
.........♥ ♥ ♥....\|/.... ♥ ♥ ♥

˙·٠•●♥ Hɑppɣ Møtɦɛяṡ Daɣ ♥●•٠·˙

find more mother’s day poems over at One Stop Poetry..

You're Invited

Ever since I was a little girl, 

I would want to change my bedroom, 

by moving the furniture around. 

I would change the furniture around 

in our living room and if allowed

I loved to choose paint colors when my Mom 

would re-paint a room in our home.

So it's no surprise for me to want to

beautify my blog by giving it a face lift...

Decorating should be fun and satisfying.

Most important, the result should reflect your

your personality and your life.

With the creative imagination of 

blog designer Karen Valentine,

I think this was accomplished.

I am in awe of Karen, for her

patience and her creativity in designing my blog,

Karen incorporated my every whim 

and the result I think is inspiring,

many thanks and warmest

appreciation, Karen.

 I invite you to take a virtual walk

through my new surroundings

and let me know what you think?

Maybe now I can get back to writing..lol!

Choices

I thought I would re-post my first two writes in hopes 

of introducing myself to this writing group….

Choices
With this blog, my intentions are to step outside of my comfort zone of living to please others, in the hopes of finding like-minded friends and writers who seek to share ideas, ponder choices, and explore inspirations. I appreciate all comments on my blog (positive or negative) as a means of encouraging an ever-evolving dialogue.


In the past, I would allow myself to become paralyzed by what others thought of me. I would literally shut down and suppress the life of my choosing, therefore, living the life that people expected of me. I realize now, making choices that others did not like or understand, will not result in my destruction nor will my world crumble and fall. Free will and free choice are gifts we have been given that allow soul growth, so that we do not remain stuck in the quagmires of the past.


As I revealed in my previous poem, "Old Friend", (see below) I would spread a blanket under the favourite tree of my childhood and write with total abandonment. I experienced the contentment of expressing my true, uninhibited feelings with no concern of being corrected or judged. This total freedom of choice always centered and calmed me, allowing me to process my emotions as well as my own truth.


Every day spirit speaks...inspiration arrives presenting us with even more choices. Our bliss echoes through our choices as well as our feelings. We must remember the value in dreaming our own dreams, as we follow our heart's true calling.


It is not up to us to control others' thoughts or assumptions, as we try to understand them. They too, have the freedom to make their own judgments and choices. We can choose how we react to others' choices and interpretations through our attitudes and questions. May we grow in love, in forgiveness, and in wisdom, as we ask for the strength to make the right choices...ones that benefit the whole while bringing the healing we seek.

Old Friend


With my back up against the trunk of an old tree,
I would write.
In the summer, I’d seek out the large shade tree in our back yard.
With a cozy blanket to soften the ground beneath me,
I allowed its spendor to embrace me.
While under its protective canopy,
I would always feel safe.
Having always loved words,
putting pen to paper was and still is my bliss.


Gazing up through the majestic maple,
I found escape easy and with little effort
I would write down my most
private thoughts and imaginings.


In quiet solitude,
I gave attention to my life, to my memories,
to the subtle details as they were presented.
I would find my authentic self when enveloped by nature
and especially when all was in quiet stillness.


Thoughts of the tree evoke many tangible memories.
Rich deep colours fall in slow motion,
offering their beauty as a gift unique for me alone.
By late afternoon the sun enveloped the space,
basking a warm golden glow.
It was then that inspiration would strike,
again guiding my pen to discover paper.

One Shot Wednesday

Over at Friday Poetically today,

we are having a bit of a Friday social, meeting new people, making new friends.

Heaven Scent

Heaven Scent
 

In the twilight of the moonlight
In the sea of tranquility
Nestled there amongst the clouds
Celestial sea of ethereal clouds
Light of sky the bay of rainbows
Sky of delicate blue divine
Sky so full of gossamer wings
Veiled beneath an ocean of stars
Soared the Angels heaven scent
Soared their flight in Sea of nectar
- Helena White

A great article on prosody from Gay here:
http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/04/one-stop-poetry-form-prosody-week-two.html

In The End

Thunderstorm last night
My stomach is in knots
Mom’s absence is deafening
I feel paralyzed, unable to take in this change
So many thoughts and memories from the past

 I cannot stop crying

I am grieving already!

The palliative care nurses helped Mom to the commode

Was she fighting to stay stronger for me?

 She can now give in to her weakness

I want her to feel safe in her new surroundings

This is so hard!

I was able to protect, in our home

Now, here she feels so far away…

I feel quilt…sadness…anger, and yes sometimes even relief

Watching my Mom fail physically and deteriorate is heart wrenching.

Her life is ending

The reality of her death is now right in front of me, so clearly

I cannot stop crying

I cannot stop crying…

This poem is submitted to One Shot Sunday, hosted by One Stop Poetry. To see other poems based on the prompt, please visit the site.

Photograph by Greg Laychak for One Stop Poetry, Used with permission. You can find Greg Laychak’s web site here and you can follow him on Twitter.

♥♥༺❀༻ ღ ӇƛƤƤƳ ƐƛŞƮƐƦ ღ ༺❀༻♥♥

 

 ӇคƤƤƳ ƐคsƮεƦ

ೋೋೋೋ