Mainely Write

This week at Poetry Jam , the prompt is to write about being alone or lonely... You know very well, oh I'm not one to dwell, so I wrote something mellow about this young fellow. Baby grasshopper on my porch post A Grasshopper Alone A grasshopper cannot find true friends For he’s at the mercy of where his jump ends Just when he thinks he’s spotted a stop He finds that he’s taken too huge a hop Over that spot and just out of reach He calls out “hello” to every and each Grasshopper as he soars overhead And lands wherever his jumping has led No friends come to visit for their plight’s the same Jumping and hopping is their lonely game. It cannot be done with a partner in tow Their jumps seldom land where another one goes The chances of two of them landing together Is as rare as snow in summer’s warm weather But if ever two should land in one spot I’m sure they’d remember the manners they’re taught         “Hello, how are you?”           “I

It's Slice of Life Tuesday, so visit Two Writing Teachers and see what kind of week or day people have had by sampling their "slices"! Last week I went for a drive with a friend to look at some potential "fun spots" for a soon to be 3 year old boy to visit while he is here.  On the meandering trip back from those places, we came across this scene. You have heard the saying "A boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money”, and then there is "A yacht is a hole in the water lined with wood, into which you pour money". But this lobster boat?  It looks like a boat trying to plug the hole in the water, or a boat actually being sucked down the hole in the water.  Soon there will be nowhere to toss the money in. You can tell boats don't really have hearts, nor feel true compassion.  There were other boats nearby.  They weren't even facing this boat.  They never looked at it, nor did they try to help.  Could it be that they wanted to

Poetry Friday is being hosted by Jone over at Check It Out .  There are lots of great pieces of poetry to be had there and by following the links! I don't know what mood I was in when I first wrote this.  Yes, I do.  But that's not important.  I just remember this feeling happening after the second grandchild was about to be born.  It is a strange feeling of wanting to know more, and coming to grips with the idea that this is all I can know and pass on.  Did I do it?  I don't know.  Most likely no, not yet, as I still have unanswered questions myself and realize that for some of these questions I was given an answer once when I was too young to know I would want to remember it someday. The Passing of Ages I remember watching my grandparents enjoying time with their brothers and sisters laughing over old stories of past deeds, giving advice from a life lived I remember as they eased away in life and then faded in memory my parents and aunts and uncles became

On Poetry Jam today the challenge is to write about the word "bridge".  One of the forms of poetry featured there today is the Puente - meaning Bridge in Spanish. I decided to go the common route for bridge, even using "bridge" as my bridge in a Puente.  No deep meaning here.  Just a bridge - from over and under... you know the story... Tip tap,      trip trap! My tiny hooves rap! I'll eat as soon as I'm over ~ the bridge ~ so fine,       all mine! Perhaps I will dine before you get to the clover! ©Donna JT Smith, 2014

In a pouring rain, the owl sat in a tree next to our house; another owl was farther away.  They were talking to each other for about an hour out there.  At midnight they quit for the night, I think... They may have started up their conversation again after I fell asleep. I really don't think I'd want to be a little critter outside at night, hearing those big voices above.  Not being a little critter by any means, I bravely fetched my phone and recorded those awesome sounds.  If you turn the volume up enough to really disturb your cat or dog, you may be able to hear the faint sound of the more distant owl answering the first's call. Oh, great horned fowl,
 I heard you howl, 
Great baritone of flight. 
Tucked in a tree
 You haunted me; 
Unseen, I felt your stare. Your questions hung 
In realms unsung
 Until beyond my sight
 Another heard - 
Echoed the word - 
A harmonizing pair. Oh, stealthy owl, 
How well you prowl
 Tiptoeing through the night. 
No t

Poetry Friday is being hosted today by Catherine Johnson ! Go there to find links to good poetry stuff! My offerings are from yesterday and last week: Lost and Found: Without You Rain, Rain, Go Away   (raining like crazy again today....guess I'd better start singing again!)

The prompt at Poetry Jam is to "write a poem about an object or a person that has disappeared from your life or entered it and is now uniquely special to you". After messing about and throwing away stuff, this occurred to me and came to be.   It makes me teary to read it.  I hope it doesn't ruin your day.  I need to go do laundry or vacuum or something else now.  I'm not reading it again.  Ever.  To cheer yourself up later, you can revisit some of my other "Lost" poems here, that I've written when I've Found other people's Lost gloves: Pink Glove Wave Lost Glove #2 And a "Lost Glove" writing here: First Glove of the Season Without You If there should ever come a day when I look across the table and you are not there - when meals are unappreciated and shirts no longer need ironing when the pillow is still fluffed and I open my own doors when your hand's not there to hold and open jars for me when I feel t

It's been raining a lot today (Thursday) and off and on for a bit...so when I sat down to write, it wasn't as difficult to do today as it has been. Thank you, Rain! ceaseless Rain incessant inconsolable weather listen while I sing sing a song of sun shining down and clouds moving on as I watch puddles rising from the ground cold brown little lakes revealing recessed spots in the earth here’s one here’s one and another... even on a hilltop cheer up Rain you’ve had your cry dry, dry, dry your eyes listen Rain as I sing a refrain of what goes on in Spain and the plain, and how you can come back another day Rain, listen as I sing singing in the rain go away and I promise someday to do a special dance just for you a rain dance to welcome you back see I’ve put my dancing shoes right here by the door it was nice of you to visit but now here comes the Sun... *And it worked!  Today (Friday) is gorgeous!  The sun is shining o

"So what does the Moon mean to you?" is the challenge at Poetry Jam this week.   After thinking about it for a bit, I wrote and wrote and wrote and slashed and crumpled (figuratively) and deleted and spaced forward and edited and revised and napped and watched a little TV, until I was left with what is here.  It is a Haiku - Accrostic... a Haccrostu? At any rate, it is four lines so MOON can be spelled out.  First line is 5 syllables, the Second and Third lines combine to make 7 syllables, and the Fourth line is 5 syllables. (ok, there is a second poem at the end of the post...just happened...)                                            M aster of disguise                                            O rbiting pearlescent                                            O rb                                            N ightly reflecting ©Donna JT Smith, 2014 I have always been fascinated that the moon is smaller than the sun by a lot, and it is closer by a lot -