The Month Is Going By So Fast!

Hi, everybun! It's a very gloomy Saturday here. I hope it's nice and sunny where you are. It's hard to believe how fast this month of poetry has flown by. We are down to the last few days! Today I was sitting here drooling over the Pier 1 flyer that came in the mail, dreaming about nicer days to come this summer. Putting that together with a conversation I had a couple days ago with the Husband about taming our blackberry patch was the inspiration for today's poem.

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Antidote for the Modern Lifestyle


My wicker chair,
          Painted in vibrant parrot colors,
                    Hides deep in the blackberry brambles.

Behind me, a cushion eases my back,
          Convincing me to put my feet up
                     On the gray boulder footstool.

On the iron arbor overhead,
           Long canes cross, and then cross again,
                    Tangling, and softening the glare of the sun.

My book waits in my lap.
           Real paper pages beckon to me,
                    Promising tropical travel adventures.

But, for now I am content
          To listen to a small brown bird
                    Chatter with the local frogs.

 



Happy Easter

Hi, Everybun! I hope you are having a good Easter. We played outside, and met a human bean not much bigger than Jensen. He was cute, and very gentle with us. His big dog has me a little worried, though. Mom says she just wants to play, but she's sooo big!

Anyway, since I had something to say, I thought I would take over the poetry business for Mom today. I hope you guys like my work.

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Poem for Mom
By Buttercup

With my pink ears,
White fur,
Red eyes,
Do I look like the Cadbury Bunny?
Oh, wait-
I guess I do.
But inside,
I am no Hollywood Diva.
I do not depend
On a hare stylist and assistants.
Yes,
I have many adoring fans,
But no special effects crew
To make your Cadbury Egg dreams
Come true.
Be satisfied
With the “eggs” I leave you,
And stop complaining.
Thump.

 

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OK. I guess she told me. Buttercup does have attitude! I want to send out a quick "Thank you" to everyone who is hanging in there with us for this month of poetry. I  We are having fun, and hope you are, too. Thanks especially to RG, Rachel, and Speedy, for all the encouraging words.



Garden Dreaming, On This Rainy Day

Hi, everybun.  I have been keeping up with the poetry, although I haven't been posting it. My parents have returned to the North, and I went to visit them, which is more fun than virtual reality. As a bonus, I got to see two of my amazing nieces, and also got to see our lovely shell, on Quilting Arts TV.  I hope your weekend was at least as good!

Rather than doing the full catch-up, I thought I would just post today's poem. It's a very gray, and a very rainy day here today. Instead of actual gardening, I've been looking at garden porn catalogs. Dahlias are kind of a pain, because they need to be lifted from the ground, and stored inside over the winter. But the flowers? Simply amazing. I may actually plant some this year, how about you?

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Sun shines yellow,
Wheel in motion
Turning on its edge.
Winter
        Blends
           Springs
               Into Lilac Time.
Karma illuminates
          Depths of select hearts.
Folly dazzles,
           Appears Abundant.
Spring
       Blends,
           Branches
                Into dinner plate dahlias.
Sunshine yellow,
With a fine
Orange-red edge.
 

Catching Up

Hi, everybun! Did you miss me yesterday? No worries, I was still writing poetry. I was also struggling with my new laptop. It's a big jump from Vista to Windows 8! And it's not helped by the fact that I've been using a tablet lately, and I keep trying to swipe a non-touch screen. Took me 7 years to be completely comfortable with the old laptop, so I guess I can't expect miracles. I like lists of things, so Windows 8 is not easy for me. How about you? Have you tried it? What's easier for you, the old desktop, or the new system?

Now that you know what I've been up to, we can get down to business. First, yesterday's poem. Inspired not only by junk mail, but also by the rainy morning.

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It is an effort to open the shade

Covering the front window.

The layers of white sky

Seem resistant to the sun’s efforts.

There is no blue lagoon to see outside,

Only the slate grey pond,

Embellished with lacy ripples by

The falling teardrops.

Today it will be easier to leave

My shirttail untucked.

 

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Today's poem was inspired by a page from the Seed's of Change catalog. The Golden Bantam is actually a variety of corn!

 

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In the sun, the Golden Bantam’s head shines a true gold.

The feathers across his back and wings are a deep gold,  

And his plump breast fades to a soft, buttery yellow.

He struts across the yard looking satisfied,

Having enjoyed an early spring harvest of succulent seedlings.

Endive, escarole, and dandelion have all been snatched from the earth

Before they could form their ruffled rosettes of crispy leaves.

And this year, the collard greens will never have a chance

To grow sweeter with the frosts of fall.

But, what I will miss most are the round heads of radicchio,

Their red leaves shot through with veins of white.

I like to drizzle them with olive oil and grill them.

The heat transforms their bitter taste into something more.

Perhaps in the radicchio’s place,

I will grill the bantam

To a rich golden brown.

 

 

 

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Now, I need to hurry off to Staples before yoga class. Seems the old laptop is so old, it is giving the youngsters there some trouble as they try to retrieve my most recent pictures. It's always something, isn't it?

What My Garden Will Be Like This Year

I've heard it said that to be a gardener, you must be an optimist. I think that's true, because no matter what happened the year before, you just always know the next year is going to be better. And in three years? It will be stunning. Can't you sort of already see it?

So, here is today's poem, partly from junk mail, and partly from working in the garden this morning.

Ribbons of coral, cherry, pink
Trail extravagantly around the yard.
Pink and purple cascades flow
From tall white planters.
Occasional bold yellow blossoms are
As brilliant as the sun.
The plants are more vigorous
Than in any previous summer,
And the flowers are larger.
A movement brings me back
To the grey and brown
Winter debris in front of me.
My eyes meet the slow blink
Of the Neighborhood Lion,
Who assures me that,
No matter what the flowers do,
He will be there
To brighten my garden.

Turn About Is Fair Play, Right?

And now, what you've been waiting for all week. It's probably been obvious that I don't know all that much about poetry, so I'm not sure what to call this. A sonnet maybe? Or Dr. Seuss? Anyway, here's Jensen"s contribution.

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             Buttercup

      My Love is like a butterball

          With tiny legs,

          She's not very tall.

     My Love has a tail like a cotton puff

         That she points at me

          When she's in a huff.

     My Love has laser eyes so red,

         Like shining rubies

         That could shoot me dead.

     But underneath that snow-white fur

          Is a heart of gold

          That makes me purr.

Buttercup's Turn

Time for a break from the junk mail chronicles. Buttercup wanted to try the poetry thing today.

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Ahem. OK. Well, I thought I would stick with the limerick form for today. It's kind of fun. Hope you like it. Jensen doesn't. Hee-hee!.


     Mom says Jensen is like a cat.
     She says my love is full of sass.
     But what I like best,
     More than all the rest,
     Is Jensen's great big *ss!

It's about time Mom let me at the keyboard. Every time I try to write on paper, Jensen eats it!

 

 

Breakthrough

Breakthrough

She turns up with the moon.

Her curls are flawless,

     Her smile natural.

Her dark blue eyes so intense,

     Iconic,

     Yet still infused with warmth,

     Like the Southern Ocean.

This way,

     Today,

     Instantly,

     She becomes essential.

Her shine long-lasting,

     She defies the night.    

Found While At Leisure This Afternoon

Optional windmill available,
     Free from paper and battlefield:
          Modern,
                State-of-the-art,
                      Works.
Not just a tulip craze.
Call for details.
    

One More From The Junk Mail

Today's poem, inspired by a Land's End catalog that arrived in the mail.

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Magic Shoes


These shoes will keep me going
     through it all.
Water, land, sand,
My feet are running.
Keep going.
Walking, hiking, biking,
My feet won't slow me down.
Keep going.
Comfortable, secure, supportive,
My feet won't hold me back..
These shoes are all I need to follow through.
Keep going.

Giving It A Try

Well, Juliet has me convinced to give NaPoWriMo a try. Since I'm new at this, I decided to start the easy way, with a found poem. I grabbed some junk mail from recycling (AAA's Horizons newspaper, if you want to know), and ripped out a page. It happened to be a page of restaurant reviews by the Phantom Gourmet, followed by an article about potholes. I circled a bunch of phrases, wrote them in my notebook, and started playing around. This is the result.

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     On your next pleasure trip,

               Why go to another boring restaurant?

     Jump straight from your car, and follow

               The unusual noises and vibrations.

     This is no ordinary restaurant.

     There is a Jimmy Buffet cover band.

     There is a full-fledged book and music store.

     There is an exciting dueling piano show.

     It is important to stay focused here.

     But, if it is already too late,

               Zip yourself into a red jumpsuit,

               And browse the shelves.

     Strategize the next round of requests.

     The DJ spins tunes to a majestic new level,

     And once the music is flowing,

               No one ever seems to mind

               If there is a wait for a table.

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I have a feeling that this restaurant might be owned by the same group of venture capitalists who own the Hotel California. You might want to be careful.....