Sonnet for February

Hopeful earth dappled
with white snow in a
gray-brown world,
yet crocus push forth
and smile.
Misty blue skies,
crisp, bleak rays of sun
no warmth, no relief,
yet snowdrops push forth
and smile.
Barren trees, spiny branches
bend in the wind
icy air, chills
yet daffodils push forth
and smile.
Shorter days
pass in single file
bringing hope
as tulips push forth
and bring smiles.
-----Scheherazade

A Poet is a Small God

[These three poems were written in response to the prompt: "A poet is a small god."]

The poet is a small god

only when his words

illuminate

a universal truth.

            --Zazu

Is a poet like a small god?
Is there such a thing as being a little bit pregnant?

Do I, a pretending poet,

want to be a small god?

Why not a large god for me,

a larger person than poet?

Wait! What is the definition of god?

I must know before I decide.

One who rules? One who decides?

Give me a break, dearie!

The only god who rules, who decides

is MONEY and those who hold it.

Please don’t insult my intelligence.

Besides, I’m only practicing to become a poet.

            --Xena

Artistic awareness
original imaging

sudden glancing

as a visual artist

relentlessly frmes

Imaginings in creating art

the poet entices inklings

notions and impressions

into sound.

The perfect word

The adjective

finally bringing

an insight that says,

“I know,” “a-ha,”

“That’s it!”

A new wakefulness

actualized

into being.

Deepening alertness

Illuminating a theme

Held as riddle

with playful candor, or

deliberation.

The Poet hears

the pulse

of an idea

into words.

          --Scheherazade

Spring's Promise

The lingering promise of Spring
dwells in my mind.
Then comes February,
and it becomes a longing,
a longing for warm breezes
and bare trees filling with green life.
          --Lucretia

I Remember It That Way

Wasn't it always summer?

Couldn't we play all day?

Weren't we always laughing?

I remember it that way.

Didn't I keep your secrets?

Didn't you share my pain?

Wouldn't it be wonderful

to be that way again?

Shouldn't we try to fix this?

Aren't you and I that strong?

Can't we go back to where we were

before it all went wrong?

Won't you try to forgive me?

Can't you hear what I say?

Weren't we happy together?

I remember it that way.
          --Sappho

Traveling Poem 3: In High School...

[A traveling poem is begun by one woman, then passed on to the next, and so forth, until each has written a stanza. This traveling poem was begun by Zazu.]

In high school, my best friend and I

would walk down the street with our

arms linked, ala Laverne and Shirley.

We shared our clothes, our lipstick

and cologne, and all of our deepest, darkest

secrets.  I was even willing to share her

boyfriend—so we wouldn’t have to double-

date.  She said, “No!”

Silly girl.

With that unblinking certitude that

17-year-olds possess,

we knew we would be best friends forever.

Sock hops, bunny hops,

Sadie Hawkins, too.

Angora-topped, saddle shoes

each with a big hairdo!

“We have no brakes and we can not stop!”

We chanted this all around the blacktop,

running into other kids without a thought.

Playground rhymes to a simple tune.

Childhood ends all too soon.

School, for me, was an escape.

At school I could laugh and

be with people who liked me.

Poets Notice Everything

[These poems were written in response to the prompt: "Poets notice everything."]

When did my hair
get so gray?

Did my bottom always

jiggle this way?

And if I may be so bold,

when did my husband

get so old?

I hear a poet will always note

the separate threads

that make the coat.

The writer with the artist’s heart

will see each piece,

will note each part.

I don’t notice much,

I forget the rest.

So if this is the litmus test

There is one thing I can clearly see,

a poet I will never be.

            --Sappho

As I look around this circle

I find it hard to see

an image of anyone at thirty or forty

What color was your hair?

Were you lovely? Wrinkle free?

I know you only in these faces

you’ve grown into, dear to me.

I’m glad I know you all

at your apogee.

            --Zazu

I notice notices.

Note the following:

dead end   no turn around

no dogs except on leash

do not exceed weight limit

beware of dog

beware:  microwave in use

no through traffic

no-fly zone

exit only

employees only

under penalty of law do not remove this tag

your subscription is about to expire

be kind               rewind

no outside food allowed

wash your hands

walk bikes through tunnel

do not adjust this thermostat

do not adjust your set 

no entrance

no passing

no parking

no dumping

no smoking

no littering

no loitering

post no notices!

You're on notice:  take notice of notices!

            --Agatha

What Will I Be?

Will I be a Sherpa

and strap

your baggage

to my back,

hauling it up and down the mountains 

of our life together?

Will I be that sailor high up 

in the crow's nest

pointing out

the rays of light

at the horizon,

the silver linings in the clouds?

Will I be a bloodhound,

nose to the ground,

leading you

home

through the darkness?

Will I entertain you,

make you laugh

with my stand-up routine,

juggling the facts,

dancing away from reality?

Will I be your goddess

the one to answer

all your prayers?

Will I be the one

to save you?
          --Sappho

Traveling Poem 2: It's Been Said...

[A traveling poem is begun by one woman, then passed on to the next, and so forth, until each has written a stanza. This traveling poem was begun by Scheherazade.]

It’s been said: For everything

you lose, you will gain

something; for everything

you gain, you will lose

something.

It seems to me that to live is to

experience pain.

It’s been said: For everything

you remember, you forget

something. It seems to me that

the body remembers

pain. The mind forgets it.

How else could we live

in sanity?

It’s been said by Auntie Mame

that “Life is a banquet, but

most poor suckers are starving

to death.”

It has been said: You are the bows

from which your children

as living arrows

are sent forth.

It seems to me

someone forgot to mention

that these arrows are aimed

straight back toward our own hearts.

It has been said: For everything

there is a season, for all things a reason.

So why don’t we accept

Mother Nature’s dictates?

She’ll chose our pathways,

our lives, our mates,

and do a better job than us,

unemotional, rational, wise is She.

It has been said: Many times,

to experience life

is to experience suffering.

The cure, it seems to me,

is to be gentle with

ourselves and all

living things.

Bee

The bumble bee is a busy soul.
He has no thoughts about birth control,
and that is why in times like these,
there are so many sons-of-Bees.
          --Gypsy

Done & Still To Do

[This poem was written in response to the prompt "Bucket List."]

Part 1: Done

I was told to find one soulmate

but that was not for me.

I did have just two children

to meet the ZPG.*

I made a lotta good love

to a lotta good young men.

Kept my cooter happy, but

pro’bly should have stopped at 10.

TA in ‘lectronics

bartender, seamstress, mom

counselor, teacher, secretary

rat trainer with aplomb.

All these jobs just paid the rent;

They never made me wealthy,

but gave me lots to think about

and kept my children healthy.

My mother used to tell me

my choice of what to be:

graduate from college with

a doctoral degree,

become an English teacher

or marry one you see.

Just to try to please my mom,

I went and did all three.

I wrote a funny cookbook, recipes and all

I walked Pocatello and told tales tall

Felt really like a writer when I saw ISBN

Can’t quite believe that all those words

Came out my little pen.

Forty years of yearning

was simply too dang long

but, thanks to Marie the Maven

I learned to play Mah Jongg.

Part 2: Still To Do

I’ll take a lot of photos

and blog them into space.

I wanna start cartooning

and drawing like an ace.

Operate a back-hoe

is still my cherished dream

Tearing up the roadside,

clearing out a stream

Pro’bly still could do this,

‘specially if I buy

Some back-hoe-driving lessons

from a hunky back-hoe guy.

Traipse the streets of Paris

in the light spring rain,

ride my way through Europe

on the Orient Express train,

photograph the Sphinx

and all the pyramids,

visit Scottish castles

and the Stonehenge lids,

see Forbidden City

and the Terracotta Army,

get a job in China

teaching English

‘til I’m barmy.

Be realistic,

I’m only dreaming now.

My only way to China is

by reading Chairman Mao.

And if I do not do all this

before I kick the bucket?

Trust me, I won’t fret and stress,

I’ll just say, “Oh, well. F--k it.”
           --Agatha


*Zero Population Growth

Sand & Tears/'Til the End of Time

This postcard photo of an old tomb in St. Louis was the inspiration for the two poems below, both by Sappho.

"Sand and Tears"

Build my tomb

of sand and tears

Cover it with flowers

Tend it for twelve months

twelve weeks,

and twelve hours

The winds will scatter

the sand and tears

Then will come the showers

to wash away

the very life

that was once ours.

"'Till The End Of Time"

I'll build you a tomb of rocks and marble

granite, cement, and stone

I'll visit you there every day

You'll never be alone

I'll bring you roses, lilies, daisies

all the summer through

I'll keep them watered with the tears

I will shed for you

I'll throw myself onto your grave

I'll wear black veils and beads

I'll mourn you 'till the end of time

draped in my widow's weeds

When I Grow Up

[Sometimes, we write in response to a word or phrase that serves as a prompt. The prompt for this poem was to write about our "bucket list," the things we want to accomplish before "kicking the bucket."]

I wanna be a writer

I wanna learn to dance

I wanna fit into size 8 pants.

I wanna learn a new game

I wanna cook a curry

I wanna be busy, but not in a hurry.

I wanna be wise

I wanna do right

I wanna have hair that is long and white.

I wanna eat healthy

I wanna be a friend

I wanna do yoga so I can twist and bend.

I wanna go places

I wanna write a rhyme

I wanna be quiet for days at a time.

I wanna hike a mountain

I wanna knit a hat

I wanna know a little bit about this and that.

I wanna meditate

I wanna be a crone

I wanna be content when I'm alone.

I wanna grow a third eye

I wanna win a race

I wanna be happy in this place.
                 --Sappho