Chew on Change!

Sorry I’ve been slacking. I’ve been working on my novel.

This first poem is an Ode, which is a poem praising a person, place of thing. 

 

Ode to Chewing Gum

Privacy lost many days a week

sitting, suffering with different folks,

makes daily life seem so bleak,

we tend to wonder if it’s a hoax.

What can we say about little space

that revokes such good behavior,

while someone tries to put on their face,

and others recite verse to their savior.

Stench that rises from when they speak

leaves plenty to the imagination,

stuck in a cloud that makes us weak,

wishing away from civilization.

Only way to survive poisonous bouquet

search hard for a pack of chewing gum,

before it’s too late and we portray

the insufferable complaints of a bum.

A fresh piece of gum, we sniff its packaging

offer it out of kindness and care,

hope they can’t see what’s happening

and chuck it up that you like to share.

The chewing gum is a survival tool

for anyone taking public transportation,

important to keep with you as a rule,

so you can go on with your respiration.

This is an unrhymed poem called Sedoka. It is made up of two three-line katauta with a count of 5/7/7.

Change

Change of scenery,

inevitable in life,

risk near or far from safety.

Appetite to move

leave behind the daily rut,

make dreams a reality.

Gum and Change,

Bea

Three for the Road

I was on a roll and then it stopped. Since I missed a few days of posting poetry, I will include three poems on this post. 

This first poem is something I found amongst my mother’s things when she passed away. It is marked unknown, but I found the author through Google. I’m posting this poem in memory of my mother and my cousin, Ann Renee Maluska, who died at the age of nineteen. Ann was born on Easter Sunday, and she would have turned forty-six years old today. Happy Birthday, Ann.

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush or quiet

Birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

Free Verse poetry is poetry that doesn’t follow meter or rhyme. Excuse the rush writing of this poem.

Treasures

Treasures

I thought I lost

I now have found

In the written word

and a picture to last

generations to come

Sometimes we

forget distant memories

that made us who we are

Because of all the treasures

I have found

It’s the one I carry around.

The treasure of

being a part of you,

letting that part shine right through.

I thought I would try another invented poetry form. This is a Memento, created by Emily Romano. It’s supposed to be about a holiday or anniversary, but I didn’t write about either one. The syllable count is 8,6,2 for each stanza, and the rhyme scheme is a/b/c/a/b/c. 

Unabashed Lovers

Ignore the judgmental whispers

That pour faster than rain

No worth;

Words that form on tongues like blisters

Creating endless pain

Unbirth.

To listen is to give power

Losing a bit of you

Hush now;

Stomp out the negative flower

To continue your woo

Avow.

Piecemeal and Three,

Bea

You Bet it's a Nonet!

A Nonet is a nine line poem that starts with nine syllables and ends with one syllable. The first line is nine syllables, the second line is eight syllables, etc. It can be about anything and rhyming is optional. This is my attempt at a Nonet. 

Music, my Love

Black eyes and wounds were the easy part.

The killer was my sold guitar.

You knew just how to hurt me.

My strings with me longer

Than your dirty ass.

Now I am free

With music.

Bastard

Gone.