My apologies for the delayed round-up. As indicated in the previous post, I was crazed getting ready for the Annie Awards, the animation industry's biggest night. It was an amazing night too. The food was great, Ratatouille and Brad Bird won just about everything there was to win, one of my favorite shows El Tigre and it's creator Jorge Gutierrez won awards and I met and saw lots of interesting and fun people. I thought you'd might like to take a peek at the dress I ended up with so I'm tacking in a picture. There's this kind of weird guy in between me and my date, maybe you'll recognize him. He's a really nice guy.
I apologize if I didn't get to comment on your poems, I'll be swinging by throughout the week to do so. I did read them all and they were wonderful and I've so many new poets to add to my list.
On to the round up, I really enjoyed making these mashed up nonsensical story poems of our postings so I'm going to give it another shot.
It began in Frenzy over at the little house
Where Billy, charming Billy was looking for a pearl.
At the Wild Rose, there's everything from Lincoln to Moses, so why dream?
"Well" said The Blue Rose Girls, "how about a love poem with toast?"
Each of us has a name given by God, even when the clouds come.
The red wheel barrow puzzles us while the mother in the refugee camp
breaks out hearts and Lady Macbeth reminds us to be ourselves.
Wherever in the wastes of our days, there should always be time for haiku
At the very least poetry in 15 words or less
or things like painting in the sweet spring.
In every heart there is a room still and quiet
when it is peace.
Though I am old with wandering (welcome Laurel!),
I imagine children's faces are replacing flower pots
in a fabulous March to the Sea.
Oh to be of use!
Beetle-bop, beetle-bop!
The mouse of Amherst calls
It's time for Langston's train ride.
There's a conference you see, on the neuroscience of Mother Goose.
In the land of Nod
there is a fury of overshoes
Death's second self, the Armadillo is preening
as much as the books that fillt it.
A clear midnight, in an Irish winter
they are getting ready as if for a Bronx masquerade
He is already beside me, that honeybee
and if you will be my valentine
and write me epyllions of love
then i will stop forcing spring
Climb inside a poem
puppy poems
are good to start with.
This little bag of poetry is becoming heavy
or maybe it's just that
I'm tired.
Defenseless under the night,
the blind men and the elephant dream
of Snow White and apples, while
Miss Lee and Mrs. Fuller end Poetry Friday.
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Isn’t it fabulous that every week, close to 50 people stop whatever they’re doing in their so busy lives and think, consider, research, write, find and compile all these wonderful poems and stories?
I think it’s astounding and I think each of you amazing contributors are making the world a better place one poem at a time. I’m so thankful for you all. You’ve opened up the window on my world and made it a richer, more colorful tapestry. Here’s to you all and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season filled with joy and hope.
I thought I'd do a nonsense poem as a round-up, like I did last time I hosted, but your poems wanted their own way and it became a story of two friends who look to each other when illness strikes. It's still a little nonsensical thought.
This epistolary round-up is dedicated to a friend that is far away. I'm thinking of you and hope I can be as good a friend as Tom.
Hey Charley, writes Tom
Did ya know that each night a child is born is a holy night,
Which fills the poet’s happy soul while
frogs dream the winter away?
Charley writes back that he's had the chest pains for weeks,
Why do we bother with the rest of the day?
Come out and greet with me
the moment the dark begins.
Tom writes back to Charley.
The bird on the terrace has his own name in French, but I don't
know it.
Gull and pull away from the dark man!
Eat pride with your doggerel and lace it with rum.
Communing with nature onthe night before Christmas, Charley's memories
of Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea.
The sea said, see i will comfort you.
His house is in the village though, a long walk from the sea.
He liked wolves and eagles and grizzly bears
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
a strange sight to the sunbathers who had never seen
the junipers shagged with ice.
Sleeping in snatches, Tom worries about his friend
He wakes, gets up and sits down
to write some cards…
thinking, I will turn it around.
Charley is thinking too.
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
Searching through the darkness,
his thoughts sped through the snow, then under a river...
Tom wrote, fight the good fight!
One must have a mind of winter
Walking into the face of wind,
Praise be to the distant sister sun
All just to say, you are my friend.
Charley laughs, his first in weeks
at the line from Tom that says,
Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache!
Tom thinks
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
I'd use them to
Take up the strain that wings it's way,
You have to hold him up.
The wind howls, hisses, and but stops to howl more loud
The longest night and the shortest day.
Tough Boy Sonatas, Charley thinks
The Christmas of my life.
Something I just noticed, said Tom
The tropical moon gave the city a glow,
Things grew brighter, more distinct, themselves.
Yes, your throat is froggy,
But it's better than it was.
Your friendship did it, said Charley
the swirling curves of spiraled space and time
with feasting and good cheer
and the Tamalitos de Cambray!
I'm so late. I just got mine posted: a Rossetti.
Sorry I'm so late.
I love this! Thank you for your lovely roundup!
Thanks, Gina: This is amazing!