Mother's Day & Oddities

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100509

WHAT’S IN A NAME (for Mary Lee)

Jo is her middle name
and she came to prefer it.

Jo,
chosen by her mother,
when her mother was a girl.

Jo ,
for dear one, beloved,
“John Anderson, my Jo”.

Jo,
the mother-gift of mother-love
to an entire family,
for each person knows, “You are
my dear one, my beloved, my Jo.”

[ASIDE: Mother's Day poem derived from a self-obituary
writing exercise conducted this week by Karen Zacharias,
author of "Will Jesus Buy Me A Double-Wide?:
Cause I Need More Room for My Plasma TV"]


100508

SELF, NON-SELF

One a horse, ranging wide.
One a rider, along for the ride.

Each awake to own.
Each asleep to other.

One will never get out.
One, though it may have tried,
will never get inside.


100507

SHEEPISH

The sheep were sheep.
Some would feed,
some would sleep,
and some would sleep
very deep... counting sheep.

[ASIDE: Wisdom House challenge on Twitter:
Create a work beginning with the words,
“The sheep were… “]


ALARM

The sheep were screaming,
but no one could hear.

The wind was calm.
The day was clear.
The shepherd was absent;
at least, couldn't hear.

The sheep were screaming,
but no one could hear—
no one, that is,
except what drew near.

[ASIDE: Wisdom House challenge on Facebook:
Create a work beginning with the words,
“The sheep were screaming… “ Facebook didn’t
truncate the instructions.]


100506

YOU CALLED? (For Denise)

"Boo-hoo!
Had it. Lost it.
Now I want it back.
Lost my mojo;
lost the knack.
Want my mojo back!"

"Yoo-hoo!
Mo' Jo? Here's Jo,
ready and at hand.
You want mo' Jo?—
that's just grand!
Glad I'm in demand!

[ASIDE: Response to a Facebook comment.]


100505

THOTS

shld i hv bot
what i sot?
what i got
was not so hot—
thats why i fot,
but all i wrot
came 2 not.

[ASIDE: Amused by some
Twitter condensations of words.]


100504

NOW THAT’S A MEDIOCRE POEM

It’s so hard to keep up with a quota;
to resign to the mediocre,
to short-change the more promising.
But without the quota,
without the mediocrity,
no promise would be realized.

[ASIDE: This is how poems often start out,
before editing. I think this one may be beyond hope.]


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