Deserted

It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home. ~Author unknown

I

Sit here

All day long.

Vacant, empty.

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

Go to

Seed.

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.

Cycle of Life

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

Frost
Whitens
Fallen leaves.
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.
Perpetuating
And renewing
The cycle
Of life —
Mulch.

Note: This poetic form is a Double Etheree.

Growing a Novel

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

The

path lies

straight ahead.

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

and chapters

someone

loves.

Note: This poetic form is called Double Etheree.

Wolf in Sheep’s Skin

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?

You

pretend

to be so

solicitous.

Offering umpteen

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.

Intuition

is at hand,

warning

me.

Note: This is a Double Etheree.