My Sentence

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if there were no windows,

I wouldn’t know what to do.

I sit here most every day,

feel the warmth come through.

I swat the lizards on the glass,

watch the crickets hop away.

Watch squirrels run on the lawn,

and, see the tiger lilies sway.

If there were no windows,

I would never see the rain,

bouncing off the gutters,

dripping on the window pane.

I would never see the bikes,

being ridden down the road.

The woodpecker on the tree,

or the yards getting mowed.

I wouldn’t see the snowmen,

the spring tulips just appear.

Summer rays or autumn leaves,

through the window here.

Mrs. Miller sweep her porch,

or clean her garden gnomes.

Or see you through the window,

excited you are finally home.

 

Note: My daughters cats are always in the window looking out onto the world outside. This is for my grand cats, Emily and Augie, and the child in all of us. 😊

Photo by Serhat Beyazkaya-unsplash

Linking with Poets United/Susan’s midweek motif “What if”

For http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

 

 

 

 All shades of flesh, sizes, and shapes.

Often get dirty with scratches or scrapes.

 

Some may feel smooth or wrinkled and rough.

Or give a quick shake dainty or tough.

 

Sometimes they’re cold or warm to the touch.

And, they often hold hands they love so much.

 

Sometimes adorned with jewelry or inks.

Hands often serve meals, nibbles, and drinks.

 

Hands used to signal, salute, and to wave.

Some hands are rude and misbehave.

 

Enthusiastically placed over hearts.

Even if penniless and used to push carts.

 

Some believe palms foretell their fate.

Used to plant rosemary by a garden gate.

 

Hands catch balls or toss caps in the air.

Give you a menu and pull out your chair.

 

Sometimes used to pull rabbits from hats.

And, even to fervently swat away gnats.

 

Sometimes used to help people to speak.

Hands help the old, sick, tired and weak.

 

Lovingly knits, socks, scarfs and sweaters.

And, they write novels, poems and letters.

 

Sometimes used to throw something away.

Sometimes tenderly held together to pray.

 

Hands lovingly wipe tears from a cheek.

Whatever they do, all our hands are unique.

 

A world full of hands from every race.

All belonging here in this beautiful place.

 

Photo-Nathan Dumlao-unsplash                           

 

 

Secrets

 

Just between us,

I use to be as cautious as you once were.

However, trembling hands are becoming,

reliable as the branches of your tree.

 

Just between us,

I use to be as anxious as you once were.

However, my happiness is becoming,

reliable as the wings that set you free.

 

Just between us,

I use to be as impulsive as you once were.

However, my needs are becoming,

reliable as the seeds you foresee.

 

Just between us,

I use to be as secretive as you once were.

However, the long secretive numbing,

reliable secrets are gone, finally I’m free.

 

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse

Photo source/Sunday muse

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

 

 

I wake too late to see the morning glories.

I must face the dandelions,

I don’t mind.

They insist on scattering hope.

Dashing through the day,

the rays of light through the prism,

are too bright for poems.

Night skies draw closer,

scattering sparkle’s.

I’m immersed in the

night blooming jasmine’s

romance novel, and

finally, my nocturnal eyes,

continue scattering poems.

 

Photo by – thr3-eyes-unsplash

For Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads
Sanaa’s Challenge

Photo by Levi Guzman – unsplash

 

Once I had that one friend

That made me feel as if,

I was an old chunk of iron.

Magnetized me stiff.

 

Couldn’t wait to hear,

The comic lava flow.

Flowing from her lips,

Volcanic talent show.

 

Laughing until our ribs,

Couldn’t take no more.

We’d somehow wind up,

Sprawled out onto the floor.

 

Shopping was our contact sport,

We’d avoid all kinds of hypes.

Bargain’s found, she’d wear hers,

Like a tiger wears his stripes.

 

I would have never wanted,

To tame that friend of mine.

Inside she suffered deeply,

So, the outside had to shine.

 

I’m still plain old vanilla.

My mind and body slowed.

But, I know there in heaven,

Sweet Elaine is rocky road!

 

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

I’m so lonesome for one.

Are you too? Lost there by the sea.

 

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

Strolling through a palm grove,

in the balmy breeze

 

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

Soaring toward the heavens,

strong and, with such ease.

 

Coconut! O coconut! O I love your trees!

Legends, myths, and folklore,

what some foresee about your trees!

 

But, coconut! O coconut! I want your tree to thrive!

Because, if I could have just one,

I’d need yours to survive!

 

Photo by: Josiah Weiss-unsplash