Category Archives: Poetry

pspoetry-Day 10 turn phone off, etc.

No Phone Needed-arlene s bice

Easy to do

no phone needed

my connections are

from a different source.

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pspoetry-Day19 Textiles

Textiles – arlene s bice

Mother Said

“drapes and carpet dress the room”

sometimes more

sometimes comfort

sometimes protection

heavyweight drapes keep out

distracting light

cold drafts

peeking eyes

bazaar area carpet

warms toes

softens step

dulls sound.

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pspoetry Day 18 favorite song

A Favorite Song-arlene s bice

There are too many

in a long life truly lived,

to choose only one

when each has its own

memory, treasured

impossible to write new

while listening to the old

that keeps pulling me back

into the past, to re-live

with tenderness.

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pspoetry Day 17 collaborative poem

Prom Time

Edgar Allan Poe & Me-arlene s bice (with more apologies)

It was many and many a year ago,
   in an ancient village of Wales
That a man there lived whom you may know
  and I knew as well as thee
And this man he lived with no other thought
   Than to read and write along with me.

I was a child and he was a child,
   In that ancient village town
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
   I and this man of my dreams;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
   we read and we wrote, this man and me.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of this man and the time we spent;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of my loved one so close to me;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my eternal love, a love that never died,
   In his sepulchre there in that town,
   In his tomb where he  lays in that town.

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pspoetry Day 16 after the rain

After the Rain -arlene s bice

with the earth washed clean

dirt and  debris sent away

time to begin anew

peppermint refreshed air

scents released as I walk

a solo wooded path

leaves still dripping

softly reminding me

the storm has spent

peace uncovered.

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pspoetry Day 15 the tree

The Tree-arlene s bice

In my walk in the wood

It calls to me

The tree

Tilted, inelegant

Its wounds showing

Survived, yet again

A beauty of its own,

Waking from winter’s rest

Buds bursting

Leaves filling out

In dark greens and light

Dressing its bones

With a spring outfit

Birds nesting

Offering a symphony

A hug is appropriate.

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pspoetry Day 14 apology

What if?

Clarence & What If? -arlene s bice

While you waited at the front door

With your heart on your sleeve, in love

Mom held you in place, listening

As I went out the back door

Coward that I was, unexperienced

In matters of the heart at 13

My deepest apologies to you

Never having seen you since

Though you came to visit again

When I was gone away,

But received news, you matured

Handsome in your military uniform

I hope you enjoyed a wonderful life

So sorry for my poor behavior

yet cannot help

Wondering What if?

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pspoetry Day 13 Grateful for. . .

People & Books- arlene s bice

People, like books, came into my life

Some to stay, some to leave early

A few people caused heartaches

Most were full of love and joy

They all touched me deeply

Taught me many lessons

Lead me to places

I needed to go

Blessings

To me.

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pspoetry Day 11 a sonnet

Summer is Coming

Shakespeare wrote about a summer’s day

He made it romantically sound

Like you could enjoy it any way

When sunshine did abound

But summer, to me, at least

Means sulky, way-too-hot weather

To suffer through a heated feast

While walking through the heather

So shall I enjoy the summer season

Afternoons that are too, too hot

Give me some rhyme or reason

To suffer too much sunshine, or not

I choose to stay inside the house

Air conditioned and fully doused.

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pspoetry Day 10 Just Desserts

Grandmother Daniels’ Dishes 1910

And Then Dessert -arlene s bice

Mom’s cooking

filled our house with love

crystal stemware, cut glass

the good silver, candelabra lit

guests at table, gift box chocolates

fancy, decorated cakes, cookies piled

pies depending on the season, yet always

Lemon Meringue Pie like no other, ever

filled with a lemon curd, meringue tips

browned until they weeped a wee bit

served on Grandmother’s Daniels’

delicate dishes from 1910.

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