Poetry Picnic Week 17:Photos, Nostalgia, Memories, and Families

Greetings Creative Minds, and Welcome to 

Jingle Poetry at The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Picnic Week 17 (woot woot), 

we hope that you have enjoyed a lovely time talking about (or to) yourself last week! You have done fabulous beautiful job sharing your thankfulness with us, we appreciated it tremendously. 


THANKS A BUNCH!!

This Week, we are having theme “Photos, Nostalgia, Memories, and Families”, you shall have enough inspirations to think and write about the theme, if not, don’t panic, submit a random poem to share….

Shrinky-dink Blues

By

Thingy

When I was a girl of five, I wanted to be like the boys,
slaying green scaly dragons, filling dirty jeaned pockets,

with mysterious treasures, like rusty, lead blistering toys.
One mystery was solved, my eyes bulged from sockets,
when Tommy the 'doctor', showed what boys hid in zippers.
I screamed from the horror, their anatomy, disgusting
I'd kill dragons and beasties, wearing ruby glass slippers-
explore my vast queendom, in my shrinky-dink bling..

.
When I was a preteen, I longed for large breasts
I prayed to the Virgin, asked for Jane Russell -its
It was the age to go braless, women roared with their chests,
conformity and unity, with double D wits
Alas, the powers above were deaf to request, so
no venti was I, in demitasse cups, I have cried.
They say beauty is deep, from within it does glow-
who needs bouncing bosoms, I will wear mine with pride!
.
A woman with child, the three, now a pair,
afraid of the future, to be alone, my worst fear.
No companion to laugh with, no kisses to share,
but with age comes a wisdom, what to let go and hold dear.
Men do not make me beautiful, only I hold this key
with knowledge unlocked, one thing I have learned,
desperation and loneliness are of my own insecurity,
a waste of my time, the hours I have yearned.

Creative Memories

By

lolamouse

She takes scissors and glue to her past

Memories can be recast

A picture here, a picture there

A collage of images hazy and fair.

Creating memories page by page

Erasing the pain, replacing the rage

The friend who betrayed her is once again true

By deft rearranging, old boyfriends are too.

A friendship that died from a hurtful word

Now vibrant with laughter that can almost be heard

Photoshop fixes the postpartum blues

A glowing new mother she'll carefully choose.

She's tired of memories less than ideal

She'll trash scraps of life that don't hold appeal

Forgetting the parts she wants to conceal

Her scrapbook life will become what is real.

Image Problems

By

Ina

I had this image of you
that you painted yourself
that I completed with my imagination
and a golden frame

my fondest memories
of events yet to happen
were in this image
that was supposed to be you

now we have met and at second glance
it is a picture of a too sunny coast
a painting with cracked vernis
and the frame is now falling apart

since I am back the image is spitting
green stuff
and I give it a week
till it’s gone altogether

Percolating Into Me

By

Gautami Tripathy

I sort through my closet
find you hidden in my clothes
I wear you on me
your scent is like an epidemic
which percolates into me

I give you hood of my emotions

Nostalgia

By RiikaInfinityy

Opening up the Pandora’s Box and revealing its content
there it is
the root of all evil
spark off with just gunshots
as I remembered

How many years
since the past we break apart
Is it just my wishful thinking
to yearn for you that appear in my past?

I wish to go back in time
question you about leaving me
in pain and torment
when you said
you’ll never betray me

I never once forget you
your charming smile
your influential words
in your embrace and love
in blood and sin
may the time turn back as I took the last breath of myself…

This is Life in Verse and Morning welcoming You to the Second Poetry Picnic in December of Jingle Poetry at The Gooseberry Garden Here {¡¡applause!!}
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Methods of Submission:

Share your work using InLinkz below, and leave a comment in case it is your first time! It would be super fantastically great if you could link back to us on your blog.

Weekly poetry collection starts on Sunday, at 2pm (CDT), and will stay open till Wednesday, 8pm (CDT), 78 hours for you to share your poetry with us...

What About Next Week!!

For Week 18, we’ll have theme “Snow, December, Winter Vacations, and Wildness”, that’s next week. And you can write anything or everything in poetic forms on our theme, hope that you enjoy!