Welcome to Jingle Poetry at The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Picnic Week 13, we have loved your Puurfect and poetic participation last week.
This Week, we will handle cases on Childhood, Dreams, Books, and Role Models, which means that, you are going to dig deep, study these terms, write about how they position, impact, and add light to your life.
Image Credit: projectgifted.com
Life in Verse and Morning welcome You to the 13th Poetry Picnic today!
Next Week, we will have Kay Salady hosting poetry picnic week 14, GET E_X_I_C_I_T_E_D!
Next Week, we will have Kay Salady hosting poetry picnic week 14, GET E_X_I_C_I_T_E_D!
Please read some of the most talented, amazing poets from below and submit your own to share! BIG SMILE!!! ;)
Through Rose Tinted
By
CC Champagne
A childhood memory through rose-tinted glasses,
is a dream I want to maintain.
The aroma of my grandmother's cinnamon buns,
I wish I was there again.
The softness of her loving embrace,
the ease of life at that age,
when the future is all unwritten,
and life is a blank, white page.
A childhood memory through rose-tinted glasses,
is a dream I want to maintain.
But in my mind, whatever my age,
I can revisit it all again.
Writers and Novelists
By
Birth :
Words flow through a hand
writings its own mind by a pen
A new page written every time
as a new day dawns.
I flow with every move
of that invisible fingers
Marriage:
Open the index that points to
the sweet twist in my chapter
Wherein I have asked you
to join me to unfold new pages
So that we can reproduce
a sequel in the coming days ahead.
Death:
Among the ups and downs ,
I had my best writings
to be reproduced into editions
for generations to come.
I still ...
I still live through them
So never repent
even if hear someone says that
Look, there she is, there on the window pane
A new friend from the dreams last night
As she promised to teach me how to fly
In sunshine and in rain
She is bright and beautiful, pinker than my ma’s cheek
Her wings have so many colors
Like the rainbow I painted last summer, for Pa’s Birthday
Before he left for the war, to make money for us to eat
Tell me butterfly, how does one eat money?
How does one go to the war?
I don’t want Pa to go to the war; I don’t want any money to eat;
You know, whenever I hug him, I don’t feel hungry at all
Oh! Butterfly, why are you flying away - so far?
Out side, the day is still full of light; sure you can wait a little more?
Ma will be back soon, from her night shift, and will let you in
Don’t you see, I can not; I am in the bed, too sick to unlatch the window bar
Butterfly, my dear Butterfly, you have teach me how to fly
I promised Pa - a hug tonight, I know where he “wars” now;
Ma showed me the other night, when she cried
“There, Kalina, there he is, the Evening Star”
You know Butterfly; I love him so much,
Much more than I love Ma,
Really! You must teach me to fly, as I have to go now
You see, my Ma does not even smile much
________________
@Shashi Oct, 2010
To Each in Stardom is Born to be Forlorn
By
A. B. Thomas
By
A. B. Thomas
To be adorned in the robe of youth is to wear upon the sleeve,
One’s desires and wish of boundless achieve,
To strut upon the spot lit center of society’s stage,
Confident that though script-less the audience will engage,
A new star with an almost impish air of mischief,
Yet instead doesn't society pan and insist youth to humbly receive?
The unwritten tome of expectation placed in civilized cage,
To sit idly whilst it is whittled down to a pamphlet page by page,
Society provides the focus to be but a player of knowledgeable disbelieve,
Whilst within deep for the improvise acted naught secretly grieve.
Clouds in The Attic
by
As she walked ahead
In her enthusiastic little hop, skip and jump - steps
I fell behind, in my own thoughts; old and aging
Yet keeping pace with her fresh world
That turns in, with a burst of rainbow
On every turn, flying like a butterfly
Across her little universe of wonder
Now she stops; the deep forest
Climbing up the steep incline of the mountain
Has her attention; complete with one hand under her chin
And I know, she knows what to ask,
With a sweet little smile behind her knit wool gloved little hand
And stump me with her wide charmed eyes
“Why those clouds are leaving the mountain alone?
Do you think Grandpa, Peakoo* will be happy without them to play?
Do you think they are coming over to play with us?
Can you give your extra blanket to put them up, in the attic for the night?
Grandpa, it’s very cold now, you know, they will shiver
Before I could think an answer and say,
“Kalina, lets go now, it’s going to rain”
She has already moved on
Playing with the soft cold breeze, moving up from the valley
With her hands out stretched, running, almost flying
Like the autumn leaves, that joined in to play, in her wake
________________
@Shashi Oct, 2010
*Peakoo = She calls the mountain peak in her own world of friends.
November 2, Tootsie: Tootsie
Methods of Submission to Our Poetry Picnic:
Share your work using InLinkz below, and leave a comment in case it is your first time! It would be 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 14, we will have theme ”This
is what I’m thankful in life!”,
because it is the week to celebrate Thanksgiving
Holiday, of course, Random poems are also welcome! What fun,
that's next week!
Morning Appreciates Your Continued Support, Please
Feel FREE to share, encourage, and get inspired! Random poems are welcome
too!
H-A-P-P-Y P-O-E-T-R-Y P-I-C-N-I-C!
Image Credits: Google.com
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