Blessing to all my friends
May you wake up happier than you went to sleep.
May this rain wash away all your pain and cleanse your soul.
Just for today, be as pure as the snow.
May your immune system be as strong as an oak, but as flexible as a willow.
May your possessions be fewer but your joy greater.
For right now, practice being on your own side.
If love is a battlefield, may you be a nurse.
Some people get pleasure from seeing others in pain.
Try not to be one of them.
We all have nuts on our family tree.
May you learn to love all your family while you still have a family to love.
I came, I saw, I loved.
Radiate love.
More of my poetry is at Poetic Muse http://hubpages.com/profile/Poetic+Muse
Friday, March 03, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Juggling in January
Juggling in January
My only audience members are noisy and enthusiastic
All dressed in black, they caw at me from the tall elms
I stay on the soft moist grass
A soft place to drop my red crystal ball
(It’s really acrylic but in my fantasy it is crystal).
I’m not quite mesmerizing
As I fumble it time and time again
Sometimes dropping it where it lands with a juicy plop on the wet grass.
But just often enough I see a little progress to keep me going
Like a gambler addicted to poker
I’m sure the next time will go smoother.
I switch to three shiny pins
There I find a little more comfort
And old safe trick that I know well
I put them through their paces like trained ponies in a circus
I try not to dwell on the tricks I’m not flexible enough to do anymore
I spot a bee trying to crawl into my red soda can
It gets annoyed when I try to cover the can with my water bottle
I note that there is plenty of flat concrete for unicycle riding
Maybe someday I’ll get another one-wheeled wonder
I move into the sun
Away from the bee
I spot two beautiful orange trees and flashback to my college days
When I used to juggle oranges outside the cafeteria with other jugglers
Until my hands were soaked with orange juice and we were all laughing like maniacs.
The bee is gone
I peer carefully into the can to make sure
I take a sip and then I open a granola bar
The bee lands on the can
I quickly cover it with the water bottle
But I don’t quite get it lined up right, leaving a bee sized opening into the can
The bee uses it as a door and crawls in
I wait
The bee doesn’t come out
I peek in
I see the bee awash in the soda
I slowly pour the soda onto the ground
I set the can sideways on the brick wall
The disgruntled bee crawls out
It parks on the can to dry its wings
I decide its time to go home so I start to pack my equipment up
I reach to grab the little white box for the contact juggling ball
Just in time I see the bee is sitting on the box
Cleaning the sticky soda off its wings
I swish it away one last time; quickly stuff everything into my purple gear bag
And hot foot it to my truck before the bee decides to come home with me.
My only audience members are noisy and enthusiastic
All dressed in black, they caw at me from the tall elms
I stay on the soft moist grass
A soft place to drop my red crystal ball
(It’s really acrylic but in my fantasy it is crystal).
I’m not quite mesmerizing
As I fumble it time and time again
Sometimes dropping it where it lands with a juicy plop on the wet grass.
But just often enough I see a little progress to keep me going
Like a gambler addicted to poker
I’m sure the next time will go smoother.
I switch to three shiny pins
There I find a little more comfort
And old safe trick that I know well
I put them through their paces like trained ponies in a circus
I try not to dwell on the tricks I’m not flexible enough to do anymore
I spot a bee trying to crawl into my red soda can
It gets annoyed when I try to cover the can with my water bottle
I note that there is plenty of flat concrete for unicycle riding
Maybe someday I’ll get another one-wheeled wonder
I move into the sun
Away from the bee
I spot two beautiful orange trees and flashback to my college days
When I used to juggle oranges outside the cafeteria with other jugglers
Until my hands were soaked with orange juice and we were all laughing like maniacs.
The bee is gone
I peer carefully into the can to make sure
I take a sip and then I open a granola bar
The bee lands on the can
I quickly cover it with the water bottle
But I don’t quite get it lined up right, leaving a bee sized opening into the can
The bee uses it as a door and crawls in
I wait
The bee doesn’t come out
I peek in
I see the bee awash in the soda
I slowly pour the soda onto the ground
I set the can sideways on the brick wall
The disgruntled bee crawls out
It parks on the can to dry its wings
I decide its time to go home so I start to pack my equipment up
I reach to grab the little white box for the contact juggling ball
Just in time I see the bee is sitting on the box
Cleaning the sticky soda off its wings
I swish it away one last time; quickly stuff everything into my purple gear bag
And hot foot it to my truck before the bee decides to come home with me.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Rules of the Road
I'm not sure when I wrote this. I found it in a box of old papers just now:
Rules of the Road
Feed your inner child
Wear something that doesn't match
Be all you are today
Dance
Invent your own holiday
Play
Give yourself an award
Sooth yourself
Dress like royalty
Sing yourself to sleep
Record your poetry
Sleep with a crystal in your hand
Change jewelry
Polish your knick-knacks
Run to the mailbox and back
Be whole
Read nursery rhymes
Send an unbirthday gift
Dance by candlelight
Write a play
Spin till you are dizzy
Wear ribbons or flowers in your hair
Rules of the Road
Feed your inner child
Wear something that doesn't match
Be all you are today
Dance
Invent your own holiday
Play
Give yourself an award
Sooth yourself
Dress like royalty
Sing yourself to sleep
Record your poetry
Sleep with a crystal in your hand
Change jewelry
Polish your knick-knacks
Run to the mailbox and back
Be whole
Read nursery rhymes
Send an unbirthday gift
Dance by candlelight
Write a play
Spin till you are dizzy
Wear ribbons or flowers in your hair
Sunday, October 16, 2005
The Scarlet Ribbon
When in dreams we do walk
Through thicket and through meadow
Through sea foam beaches and tidy hedgerows
While bagpipes whistle through the hills
Do I cry out your name once more?
Am I in your dream too, dancing on the moor?
Do you see my bonnie smile as I run up the road?
Do you miss your bright colleen?
Your woman-child with windblown tresses?
Do you walk through the crossroads where we first met?
Do the heather and the thistles still wind all around the sign there?
Where old women mutter curses against pixies
And old men drive donkeys laden with firewood and thatch
Where nervous tinkers mumble words of protection
And sacrifice the unfortunate chicken over the rocks piled there?
Do you remember the scarlet ribbon from my hair?
The one you tied there after making me swear to never leave you?
We watched it wave merrily on the crossroads sign
Giggling and kissing and twining heather in my hair
Before the long walk up the northbound road
Where you went north and I went east back toward the dawn
Did you find your fortune while you were gone?
When I spin I imagine that I am one ply and you the other
When I watch the spindle twirl and twirl and know
We will be together but only when in dreams we do walk
Through thicket and through meadow
Through sea foam beaches and tidy hedgerows
While bagpipes whistle through the hills
Do I cry out your name once more?
Am I in your dream too, dancing on the moor?
Do you see my bonnie smile as I run up the road?
Do you miss your bright colleen?
Your woman-child with windblown tresses?
Do you walk through the crossroads where we first met?
Do the heather and the thistles still wind all around the sign there?
Where old women mutter curses against pixies
And old men drive donkeys laden with firewood and thatch
Where nervous tinkers mumble words of protection
And sacrifice the unfortunate chicken over the rocks piled there?
Do you remember the scarlet ribbon from my hair?
The one you tied there after making me swear to never leave you?
We watched it wave merrily on the crossroads sign
Giggling and kissing and twining heather in my hair
Before the long walk up the northbound road
Where you went north and I went east back toward the dawn
Did you find your fortune while you were gone?
When I spin I imagine that I am one ply and you the other
When I watch the spindle twirl and twirl and know
We will be together but only when in dreams we do walk
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Pagan Generation Gap
I write this with a heavy heart
I really don’t know where to start
I heard a chat the other day
By two who were experienced in the pagan way
They lamented and wrung their hands
About the discord in pagan lands
How they despised those young in age
Who had read one whole book and were now a sage
How dare they claim to be a high priestess
How dare they think they know it all
When right here under their very noses
Were two excellent teachers to answer their call
And how those teens had no respect for their elders
And he didn’t just mean eighteen years olds
But 30 year olds with the mentality of eighteen year olds
And oh by the way they hated fluff bunnies
And light workers and healers and all of that crap
And they would really love to go on about their knowledge
But it was time for their afternoon nap
I really don’t know where to start
I heard a chat the other day
By two who were experienced in the pagan way
They lamented and wrung their hands
About the discord in pagan lands
How they despised those young in age
Who had read one whole book and were now a sage
How dare they claim to be a high priestess
How dare they think they know it all
When right here under their very noses
Were two excellent teachers to answer their call
And how those teens had no respect for their elders
And he didn’t just mean eighteen years olds
But 30 year olds with the mentality of eighteen year olds
And oh by the way they hated fluff bunnies
And light workers and healers and all of that crap
And they would really love to go on about their knowledge
But it was time for their afternoon nap
Thursday, October 06, 2005
A Midnight in Autumn
My lover slips in through my window
Carrying naught but a lantern
He comments on how the flickering flame
Makes my eyes sparkle like sapphires
He runs his fingers over the lace on my chemise
His voice breathy and hoarse
His fingers still icy from the night air
The frost melting in his eyebrows and beard
My dear Tatiana he moans
It seems like a fortnight since we have kissed
He lays his thick cloak upon the wheaten rushes
And there we lay side by side
Not saying much but drinking each other in
He sits to unbraid my long hair
Unwinding one strand at a time
Unwinding my resistance one thread at a time
He wraps his fingers behind my neck
And kisses me hard
A sudden rapping upon the wooden door
I scramble to my feet to answer it
I slide open the bolt and turn to my lover
All I see is the open window and the curtains flapping
Carrying naught but a lantern
He comments on how the flickering flame
Makes my eyes sparkle like sapphires
He runs his fingers over the lace on my chemise
His voice breathy and hoarse
His fingers still icy from the night air
The frost melting in his eyebrows and beard
My dear Tatiana he moans
It seems like a fortnight since we have kissed
He lays his thick cloak upon the wheaten rushes
And there we lay side by side
Not saying much but drinking each other in
He sits to unbraid my long hair
Unwinding one strand at a time
Unwinding my resistance one thread at a time
He wraps his fingers behind my neck
And kisses me hard
A sudden rapping upon the wooden door
I scramble to my feet to answer it
I slide open the bolt and turn to my lover
All I see is the open window and the curtains flapping
The Red Fairy and Jack Frost
The red fairy and Jack Frost got into a bit of a spat.
He called her ugly and fat and she called him cold and said she'd had enough of that.
The grudge lasted a year and a day.
And each one went their seperate way.
But the magic was already spoiled
And the red fairy had Jack foiled.
Because now when he spreads his frost over your head
It will no longer be white but red.
He called her ugly and fat and she called him cold and said she'd had enough of that.
The grudge lasted a year and a day.
And each one went their seperate way.
But the magic was already spoiled
And the red fairy had Jack foiled.
Because now when he spreads his frost over your head
It will no longer be white but red.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Mermaid's Garden
There is a mermaids garden far beneath the sea
Where humans cannot see
So we have to let it be
Where mermaids can swim free
We would net them, cage them, fry them
We would put them on display
Do or die them
And never let them play
We don't need to go looking
We don't need to rape the sea
Let them grow their garden without you and me.
copyright Fayme Harper 2005
Where humans cannot see
So we have to let it be
Where mermaids can swim free
We would net them, cage them, fry them
We would put them on display
Do or die them
And never let them play
We don't need to go looking
We don't need to rape the sea
Let them grow their garden without you and me.
copyright Fayme Harper 2005
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
BEHIND
Behind
Some religions leave you hollow
Some ideas are hard to swallow
But there is one truth you can’t deny
Where your mind goes
Your behind follows
Some religions leave you hollow
Some ideas are hard to swallow
But there is one truth you can’t deny
Where your mind goes
Your behind follows
Wishing
Wishing
I wish I was a genius
I truly do
I wish that I was smarter than you
I wish universities would call me and ask me for advice
And inventors would want help with their newest device
Diplomats would ask me to help end a war
Interior designers would want my décor
I’d design my own fashions
I’d hybridize my own plants
I’d be a philosopher and win genius grants
I’d write a best seller
I’d write a great play
And they’d build a statue in my honor someday
But I’m just a poet
I’m wrinkled and old
If I sit here much longer
I’ll start to grow mold
I wish I was a genius
I truly do
I wish that I was smarter than you
I wish universities would call me and ask me for advice
And inventors would want help with their newest device
Diplomats would ask me to help end a war
Interior designers would want my décor
I’d design my own fashions
I’d hybridize my own plants
I’d be a philosopher and win genius grants
I’d write a best seller
I’d write a great play
And they’d build a statue in my honor someday
But I’m just a poet
I’m wrinkled and old
If I sit here much longer
I’ll start to grow mold
Inner Singer
My Inner Singer
A fledgling opera singer declared that singing cured his depression.
That putting his passion and deepest emotions into the songs was healing for him.
And that was a truth I used to know
When I was young and sang a lot
I sang in the hammock in my front yard
I sang while walking to school
I sang while gardening in my backyard
I sang in school choruses and church choirs
And my voice was high
So high
Second soprano
I felt it was high time I started singing again
If I still knew how
So I started doing warm-ups
And least the few I remembered from choir long ago
And I did not find the high voice from my youth
But a deeper richer voice
I was just as surprised by that
As I was when I realized
I’d gone from a B cup to a D cup
And there is a big difference between singing along with a song
And knowing the song deep in your bones
So now I have to figure out what songs
My bones want to sing
A fledgling opera singer declared that singing cured his depression.
That putting his passion and deepest emotions into the songs was healing for him.
And that was a truth I used to know
When I was young and sang a lot
I sang in the hammock in my front yard
I sang while walking to school
I sang while gardening in my backyard
I sang in school choruses and church choirs
And my voice was high
So high
Second soprano
I felt it was high time I started singing again
If I still knew how
So I started doing warm-ups
And least the few I remembered from choir long ago
And I did not find the high voice from my youth
But a deeper richer voice
I was just as surprised by that
As I was when I realized
I’d gone from a B cup to a D cup
And there is a big difference between singing along with a song
And knowing the song deep in your bones
So now I have to figure out what songs
My bones want to sing
Angel Island
The Walls of Angel Island
See in your mind the 1900’s in California
See thousands of Chinese immigrants
Coming to the land of opportunity
Coming to the gold rush on mighty ships
And standing between them and America
Is Angel Island
The immigration center
And for many the last stop
And there they are held
For days, for months, for years
And on the walls in Chinese characters
Are poems carved in the wall
Thousands of poems
That speak of disease and mistreatment
And hunger and hopelessness
And missed loved ones still waiting in China
Waiting to come to America
And then to have your journey end
And to have your body sent back to China
Never even getting to dig for gold
Isn’t freedom the real gold?
See in your mind the 1900’s in California
See thousands of Chinese immigrants
Coming to the land of opportunity
Coming to the gold rush on mighty ships
And standing between them and America
Is Angel Island
The immigration center
And for many the last stop
And there they are held
For days, for months, for years
And on the walls in Chinese characters
Are poems carved in the wall
Thousands of poems
That speak of disease and mistreatment
And hunger and hopelessness
And missed loved ones still waiting in China
Waiting to come to America
And then to have your journey end
And to have your body sent back to China
Never even getting to dig for gold
Isn’t freedom the real gold?
Unplugged
Unplugged
Why is it so hard to unplug from things?
Why can’t I just turn off the television?
Leave the radio off
Disconnect the phone and the Internet?
So many voices in my head
Other people’s opinions from every direction
Bombarding me
Evoking emotions
The agony of the world parading in front of me
The vanity of celebrities
The follies of the rich and not so rich
I breathe deeply and try to find a calm space
A space where I can be who I am
And that is enough
Why is it so hard to unplug from things?
Why can’t I just turn off the television?
Leave the radio off
Disconnect the phone and the Internet?
So many voices in my head
Other people’s opinions from every direction
Bombarding me
Evoking emotions
The agony of the world parading in front of me
The vanity of celebrities
The follies of the rich and not so rich
I breathe deeply and try to find a calm space
A space where I can be who I am
And that is enough
Great Beauty
Great Beauty
She was a great beauty they said
She had the best rack money could buy
Her acrylic nails were rimmed in gold
She wouldn’t dream of leaving her penthouse without make-up, false eyelashes & the newest fashions
Men bought her cars and furs and cocaine
Her schedule included stops at the tanning salon, the hairdresser and the spa
She had a ring for every finger
White gold and diamonds of course
Each one from a different lover
They found her in an alley with dark circles under her eyes
Her nose collapsed
Her heart stopped
‘Pity, she was a great beauty once’
She was a great beauty they said
Her wizened face looked peaceful even in death
Her husband said her heart mothered the whole neighborhood
She had put eight kids through college
All of them adopted from poor countries
No job was too humble for her
She held three jobs at a time once
And still visited the elderly every Sunday
She said God would rather see her face at the hospice than in church
Even at 70 her husband was hard pressed to keep up with her
Even when she went blind she still insisted he drive her to the hospice and to visit shut-ins
As she lay dying she gathered her children and grandchildren around her
She said to them, “There is still so much work to do. I’m sorry I ran out of time to do it myself. Don’t let me down.”
Her youngest daughter held her hand.
“I hope I am as beautiful as you are someday.”
She was a great beauty they said
She had the best rack money could buy
Her acrylic nails were rimmed in gold
She wouldn’t dream of leaving her penthouse without make-up, false eyelashes & the newest fashions
Men bought her cars and furs and cocaine
Her schedule included stops at the tanning salon, the hairdresser and the spa
She had a ring for every finger
White gold and diamonds of course
Each one from a different lover
They found her in an alley with dark circles under her eyes
Her nose collapsed
Her heart stopped
‘Pity, she was a great beauty once’
She was a great beauty they said
Her wizened face looked peaceful even in death
Her husband said her heart mothered the whole neighborhood
She had put eight kids through college
All of them adopted from poor countries
No job was too humble for her
She held three jobs at a time once
And still visited the elderly every Sunday
She said God would rather see her face at the hospice than in church
Even at 70 her husband was hard pressed to keep up with her
Even when she went blind she still insisted he drive her to the hospice and to visit shut-ins
As she lay dying she gathered her children and grandchildren around her
She said to them, “There is still so much work to do. I’m sorry I ran out of time to do it myself. Don’t let me down.”
Her youngest daughter held her hand.
“I hope I am as beautiful as you are someday.”
Six Haikus
Reaper
When he comes calling
Tap tapping on my window
Death in tux and tails
Tres Gatos
Rocky: striped half tail
Black Bob looks like a brawler
Wallop earned his name
Trio
Obsidian grounds
Amethyst clear sight
Emerald heals hearts
Rocky
Rocky is part Manx
He talks to the birds outside
He has half a tail
Wallop
Black with white mittens
The perpetual teen boy
Has a milk mustache
Bob
Fur of black velvet
Robert loves his scratching post
He loves catnip more
When he comes calling
Tap tapping on my window
Death in tux and tails
Tres Gatos
Rocky: striped half tail
Black Bob looks like a brawler
Wallop earned his name
Trio
Obsidian grounds
Amethyst clear sight
Emerald heals hearts
Rocky
Rocky is part Manx
He talks to the birds outside
He has half a tail
Wallop
Black with white mittens
The perpetual teen boy
Has a milk mustache
Bob
Fur of black velvet
Robert loves his scratching post
He loves catnip more
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Outside the Box
Think Outside the Box
You know how people are constantly saying 'think outside the box'?
I realize there are very few boxes I fit in to begin with.
I'm not a smoker.
Not a doper.
I'm not vanilla,
I'm not a drinker,
I'm not conservative.
I'm not Republican,
I'm not a super model.
I'm not a housewife.
I don't define myself by my children.
I don't work in a cubicle.
I'm not an athlete; I'm not a tweener.
I'm not a country girl.
Nor am I the girl next door.
I'm not a crackhead, a hooker or a midnight toker.
I'm not a trekker or a trekkie.
I'm not a computer geek or a hacker.
I'm not Mrs. Robinson.
I'm not a zealot, a cultist, or a Christian.
I'm not a vegetarian, a Presbyterian or an aquarium.
And I've met so many pagans that are drug fiends, I'm not sure I even want to say I'm pagan.
Copyright fzh 2005
You know how people are constantly saying 'think outside the box'?
I realize there are very few boxes I fit in to begin with.
I'm not a smoker.
Not a doper.
I'm not vanilla,
I'm not a drinker,
I'm not conservative.
I'm not Republican,
I'm not a super model.
I'm not a housewife.
I don't define myself by my children.
I don't work in a cubicle.
I'm not an athlete; I'm not a tweener.
I'm not a country girl.
Nor am I the girl next door.
I'm not a crackhead, a hooker or a midnight toker.
I'm not a trekker or a trekkie.
I'm not a computer geek or a hacker.
I'm not Mrs. Robinson.
I'm not a zealot, a cultist, or a Christian.
I'm not a vegetarian, a Presbyterian or an aquarium.
And I've met so many pagans that are drug fiends, I'm not sure I even want to say I'm pagan.
Copyright fzh 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
Friday, May 13, 2005
Raggedy Man
Raggedy Man
Once I met a raggedy man
His name was Peter Jay
He’d knock on doors collecting rags
From dawn till end of day
He’d take them back to his old grandma
She’d cut them into long strips
Then she and ma would braid them
Round and round they’d go
And make a rug as big as a horse
From pieces of old calico
Peter Jay the raggedy man
He’d go from door to door
His bells a’ jingly jangling’
Around his belt so worn
The housewives would drag out their old rags
Tied up in threadbare sheets
And sometimes they’d give him a biscuit or water
And beg him to sit and rest his feet
Peter Jay grew old and gray
His back was bent from toil
But he never grew no beans nor cotton
Or made no olive oil
His garden was a city full of rags and scraps
His Ma would make them into rugs and hats and bags and sacks
The braiding would go round and round
Until the work was done
Then they’d sell them in the market
Under the summer sun
Peter Jay he is no more
I haven’t seen him in many years
But I still have that braided rug
And my grandkids love it dear.
Copyright FZH 2005
Once I met a raggedy man
His name was Peter Jay
He’d knock on doors collecting rags
From dawn till end of day
He’d take them back to his old grandma
She’d cut them into long strips
Then she and ma would braid them
Round and round they’d go
And make a rug as big as a horse
From pieces of old calico
Peter Jay the raggedy man
He’d go from door to door
His bells a’ jingly jangling’
Around his belt so worn
The housewives would drag out their old rags
Tied up in threadbare sheets
And sometimes they’d give him a biscuit or water
And beg him to sit and rest his feet
Peter Jay grew old and gray
His back was bent from toil
But he never grew no beans nor cotton
Or made no olive oil
His garden was a city full of rags and scraps
His Ma would make them into rugs and hats and bags and sacks
The braiding would go round and round
Until the work was done
Then they’d sell them in the market
Under the summer sun
Peter Jay he is no more
I haven’t seen him in many years
But I still have that braided rug
And my grandkids love it dear.
Copyright FZH 2005
Another poem, same word list
Tweener Summer in Albuquerque
Remember when we tied a string on a June bug
We never worried that it might stress the poor thing out so
Then the boy next door always trying to moon Doug
And I would obsess over that uptown boy Joe
And then Doug put that snake in my new purse
And chased my Manx cat Moot up that old oak
Then you pretended you were a waitress and served cake and I was a nurse
And Cliff caught that bullfrog that was such a beaut, no joke
Then Cindy put on her mom’s Garbo hat
And we would put on a play like we were movie stars
And the boys would tease that old hobo that was fat
On the last day I saw Joe and Cindy under the monkey bars
And he gave Cindy a rhinestone heart bracelet and acted like her man
And I was so mad I poured his smelly cologne all over his Dad’s van
Copyright FZH 2005
This poem used the same word list, but the words were used as internal rhymes.
June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne
Remember when we tied a string on a June bug
We never worried that it might stress the poor thing out so
Then the boy next door always trying to moon Doug
And I would obsess over that uptown boy Joe
And then Doug put that snake in my new purse
And chased my Manx cat Moot up that old oak
Then you pretended you were a waitress and served cake and I was a nurse
And Cliff caught that bullfrog that was such a beaut, no joke
Then Cindy put on her mom’s Garbo hat
And we would put on a play like we were movie stars
And the boys would tease that old hobo that was fat
On the last day I saw Joe and Cindy under the monkey bars
And he gave Cindy a rhinestone heart bracelet and acted like her man
And I was so mad I poured his smelly cologne all over his Dad’s van
Copyright FZH 2005
This poem used the same word list, but the words were used as internal rhymes.
June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Dancing at the Crystal Moon
In this challenge, you were to write a poem using the word list below and keep the same rhyming pattern as the word list.
Dancing at the Crystal Moon
Her name was Sally but he always called her June.
Though their affair caused her stress,
When they danced the foxtrot at the Crystal Moon
If was for her he would obsess.
But when he got home he felt like a snake
Even though his marriage was moot
He wanted to eat; yet still have his cake
But June was such a buxom beaut.
With her creamy skin she reminded him of Garbo.
He snuck out that Friday to take her to a play;
He felt like some sort of lurking hobo,
Sneaking out of work in the middle of the day.
He brought her a ring with a big rhinestone
And splashed himself with cheap cologne.
Copyright FZH 2005
June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne
Dancing at the Crystal Moon
Her name was Sally but he always called her June.
Though their affair caused her stress,
When they danced the foxtrot at the Crystal Moon
If was for her he would obsess.
But when he got home he felt like a snake
Even though his marriage was moot
He wanted to eat; yet still have his cake
But June was such a buxom beaut.
With her creamy skin she reminded him of Garbo.
He snuck out that Friday to take her to a play;
He felt like some sort of lurking hobo,
Sneaking out of work in the middle of the day.
He brought her a ring with a big rhinestone
And splashed himself with cheap cologne.
Copyright FZH 2005
June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne
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