It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home. ~Author unknown
All day long.
Dreaming of the past,
When I was loved. Needed.
When I kept a family safe
From storms, robbers, and other ills.
Love and laughter filled my rooms, and I
Felt secure in fulfilling my purpose.
Now my family’s gone, and I sit alone.
My lawn untended; my paint peeling,
Grass in cracks, weeds overflowing.
Who will fix me up again?
Will someone please buy me?
Will someone love me?
I can give much!
Don’t let me
Note: Monkey and I pass this ranch-style house on our morning walks, and it never fails to sadden me. I hear the elderly owner passed away several years ago, long after his wife had died and their kids went to live out of state. A daughter came to look over (and, I assume, take what she wanted) after his death, but she hasn’t been back since. There’s no For Sale sign outside. This poem is a Double Etheree.
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, American essayist and poet
Outlines their veins,
Bestows a beauty
Gone since they turned color
Earlier in the season.
Something sad about the Autumn
When trees become bare and look like sticks.
As they prepare to rest for several months.
Don’t cry because leaves are not here today.
They served a purpose and now they’re gone.
Nestled together on the ground,
Sheltering grass and insects,
Enhancing the landscape.
Of life —
Note: This poetic form is a Double Etheree.
It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. ~Edmund Hillary, explorer, mountaineer, and one of two climbers confirmed to reach the top of Mount Everest first
Put one word down
and then another
until you reach the end,
confident along the way
that you’ve written the best story
you can under the circumstances.
And won’t it feel great to finally finish?
Staring at a screen, forsaking playtime.
Growing a novel isn’t easy.
Maybe that’s why others don’t try.
Stop complaining and fretting!
Tackle the task at hand.
Watch the word count grow
as you write scenes
Note: This poetic form is called Double Etheree.
Trust your hunches. They’re usually based on facts filed away just below the conscious level. ~ Joyce Brothers, American psychologist
Waiting for the other shoe to drop perhaps?
to be so
suggestions and gimmicks
designed to show me that you
aren’t the Mean Girl I fear you are,
that you have my best interests at heart
and there’s no way you’d ever bring me harm.
Why, then, do I lie awake pondering?
Why, then, are my dreams tormenting me?
Why do I wake up shivering,
my heart pounding, out of breath?
Wait, now I remember —
I’ve been here before.
is at hand,
Note: This is a Double Etheree.