I’ll probably delete this in the morning.
I’ve seen a lot of pumpkins
Warm colors on a rack
But never have I seen one
Dressed in shiny black
I’ve seen a lot of pumpkins
But goodness, golly gee,
I never thought I’d see one
Looking back at me
I’ve seen a lot of blog posts
Deleted one by one
But never have I seen them
Rise up, walk and run.
Rejoice, red leaf!
You’ve landed well.
Was it scary letting go?
What did you see on the way down?
I’m prepared to love your story.
Tell it.
I’m also prepared to delete this in the morning.
Monday!
I’m tempted to leave it at that and have you all wondering…what about Monday? What does she mean? Is there some hidden depth there?
Alas, no hidden depths. But it could be that there’s a poem lurking in there somewhere. Let’s see if I can find it.
Look at Monday, just look at it!
What a plum assignment it has in the week,
Zipping along after Sunday rest and worship.
If April showers bring May flowers,
Then Sunday rest brings Monday zest.
It’s Monday!
Start the day with prayer,
Read the Scriptures with renewed vigor,
Catch up on last week’s to-do’s that didn’t get to-done,
Make those dreaded phone calls to set up appointments,
Do some stretches, yes, the ones you used to do daily,
Reach high, dig deep,
Forget what lies behind, reach forward to what lies ahead…
Don’t forget to cut some Monday flowers,
And put ‘em in a Monday vase.
Ah, Monday!
(If you wonder why I use exclamation marks so much, you should listen to me talk. Then you’d get it.)
And with that, this Monday post heads to the Tuesday morning queue of deleting.
The dragonfly
Is but a fly
With glittering wings,
A delicate thorax,
And shimmering colors.
It flits quite a bit,
It dazzles and whizzles
It circles and dizzles,
But I’ve never seen one –
Not once –
Ever –
Breathe fire.
Have you?
I’ll probably dizzle this in the morning.
The Canada goose
Is on the loose
The Canadian geese
Evade the police
If seen in your counties
Please call the mounties
If loitering in lobbies
Call for the bobbies
Don’t try to chase ‘em
Don’t try to race ‘em
Just frolic and caper
And put ‘em on paper.
And that’s all I’ve got for today.
Time to caper off and delete this…in the morning.
‘Tis the season!
The garden paintbox cracks open –
Lovely tubes of reds and yellows,
Watercolors splashed among leaves,
Calling out a cheery hello to your neighbors
“Hello! I’m just passing through!
Happy to pose for photos!”
Don’t forget:
Jesus is the reason for this season, too.
‘Tis also the season for deleting. Deleting happens.
It turns out that using the dictation feature on my keyboard, isn’t always as intuitive as you would think. Nevertheless, it seemed like a good option to spare my arm some typing. So here it goes!
I’ve got a few pieces of artwork that I finished last week before deciding to give my arm a break.
Most of these, as usual, are copies of things I found on Pinterest, with the exception of the owl which I drew from a photo.
Is the owl a fowl?
Certainly not! Perish the thought!
Is the owl very nice?
Certainly not! Just ask the mice!
Has the owl gone crazy?
Certainly not! Nor is he lazy.
Does the owl bill and coo?
Certainly not! What’s wrong with you?
Will the owl teach and preach?
Certainly not! Just hear him screech!
Is the owl a night sleeper?
Certainly not! He’s a night peeper!
About the owl
I’ve told you a lot
You now are an expert
On what he is not.
The end.
…in the morning.
When robins appear
And lay their beautiful eggs
Spring is what hatches
When blog posts appear, deleting is what hatches.
When you have a summery day in March
You sit on your garden bench,
Even though dry stalks and faded glories
Are the only things left in it.
A distant train whistle sings,
The faithful owl keeps watch
(I am amazed that no one stole it
Over the long winter – hooray!)
The spring-warm sun greets my face
Bringing on fit of sneezing (does that happen to others?).
Once – twice – thrice…I think I’m done.
I wish those killdeer that I hear would come visit.
I brought four books out to read,
Which seems like an absurdly optimistic pile.
Instead I sit, watch, listen,
And hope there are wisps of poems in the breeze.
This morning I was chased and harassed
By a goblin named Anxiety
Until finally I knelt by my bedside
To hash it out with the Lord.
Be anxious for nothing…
Let your requests be made known to God.
I told Him everything – really, I did!
The goblin stood by to remind me what I was anxious about.
It was a revolving door there for awhile:
Anxiety out, peace in; peace out, anxiety in.
But I just kept taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ
Until that old goblin slunk away in disgrace.
Hours later, I’m out under a fresh blue sky
In this Hallelujah Garden
Where God’s greening up the earth
And banishing the goblins of the morning.
I’ve been reading a book of poetry by Billy Collins and thought I’d take a stab at his style of conversational poems.
I’ll probably banish this hob-bloggin in the morning.
In honor of my dad’s birthday today (he would have been 98), I’d like to share a rewrite of the poem “Sea Fever” by John Masefield that he wrote to celebrate his own love of canoeing up in the Boundary Waters.
I must go back to the lakes again,
To the lonely lakes and the sky,
And all I ask is a sturdy canoe
And a compass to steer her by,
And the paddle’s kick and the wind’s song
And the white caps shaking,
And a gray mist on a quiet lake
And a bright dawn breaking.
I must go back to the lakes again,
For the call of the loon
Is a wild call and a clear call
That cannot be denied,
And all I ask is a windy day
With the white clouds flying,
And the Norway pines and the portage trails
And the sea gulls crying.
I must go back to the lakes again,
To the voyager’s gypsy life.
To the eagle’s way and the beaver’s way
When the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn
From a laughing fellow paddler,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream
When the long day is over.
I must go delete this post again…
A couple paintings from back in the day:
I copied the cats from someone else’s work, but added my own words. I may have shared this painting on the blog before, but don’t feel like going back and checking. The nice thing is that even if I did, you don’t remember it either, so it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time anyway.
Original artwork and poem.
Hey, speaking of poetry, ten of my poems will be published later this year in a poetry anthology called “I’ve Got A Bad Case of Poetry.” Isn’t that fun? Thank you to those of you who contributed to the Kickstarter campaign.
I’ll probably delete this in the green leaf morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 