Do Not Fret — a poem

Do not fret that

you couldn’t catch

the yellow’s tail.

Rejoice that you’ll be

first out of the gate when

the light goes green.

Do not fret that you

are selling memories

for money on eBay.

Look how Curious Kitty

painted his awesomeness

into art for the Universe.

Look how you get

to spread some Princess

love to other little girls

while financing

your awesome daughter’s

awesome gymnastics.

do not fret.
do not fret.
do not fret.

And should a big unsightly

pole mar your sunset photo,

just paint that puppy out!

end of poem for dVerse Poetry Tuesday Open Link.

by Jannie-Bo-Bannie who is trying not to fret about how much this new day-job thing has thrown my available blogging time for a loop.

Miss you all! Will be out as soon as I can.

xooxxxoxoxooxxo

some impressions of impressionism one day

i slipped away from
the noisy librarian to
the gare st lazare

where water lilies were
tumbling off a gendarme’s
shoulder onto the hat

of a lady in a
long silk shadow of
marriage proposal.

later i saw
bridges holding
up clouds

and horses with
haunches like home-made
fudge hardening.

then the
sun bounced
and i fell back

into the day
with the librarian
banging books

onto the shelves
like she was stacking
cord wood for winter.

~~ end of true poem.

xooxxoxooxoxoxoxo

i photgraphed the book’s pages with my iPhone, and the top photo i took with my Kodak at home today.

Besides, It’s Always Mothers’ Day In Our Hearts.

A lady once spent
six hours a day bloggin’

‘Til she got a day job
and lost half her noggin.

Somehow her Mothers’ Day
post fell behind.

Now it’s quite late.
She hopes you don’t mind?

So, who could all those
gals be way up there,

ladies with summertime
shine in their hair.

Mom’s on the far left,
the “baby” of the five.

So lucky these
ladies are all still alive!!

And healthy!

Photo was taken
almost ten years ago

outside Saint James’
one day without snow.

Speaking of James’es who
are saintly and such,

That’s mine in the middle,
him I love much.

No, he’s not perfect,
but Honey, who is?

Except for Christ Jesus
in the forgiveness biz.

But back to the story
of the sisters above,

Each of them mothers.
Each of them love.

They are in Canada
while we’re here in Texas.

Next year we might drive up
in an good pre-owned Lexus.

Or fly in the sky in
a seven thirty seven

back home to the land of
Tim Hortonly heaven.

As to Kelly’s Christening
that earlier sweet now,

as to the land where
I learned to milk cows,

the wee one in the photo
with her toes peeking out,

— let’s give that singing
little cutie a shout.

She co-starred in her
school musical last week,

the stow-away in “Pirates”
She was AMAZING. And sweet.

She made me a mother
for which I’m so grateful.

Thus concludes this poem
… only fifteen days lateful.

🙂

And because Jannie loves threes…

there’s one I just took of a notecard sketched by Carol Olson in 1976.

I’m guessing it depicts the town 100 years ago.

The big whole family Kelly’s Christening Day photo was taken in front of the church on the left.

oxooxoxooxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxxoxooxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxo

Poem On A Beer & Water Night

any minute now
something good’s
gonna happen,

like, someone
will surprise you
with a cupcake,
a silver orchid

or…

a red highlighted
blog comment will
flash for approval

— 99% of the latter
written by angels on
jeweled swings hanging

from ropes of fudge
by the light of the
cinnamon moon.

yes, 99% of the time
you’ll feel the mist of
blogging comraderie

cool your face in
summer’s heat and
wake you in spring.

99% of the time you’ll
smell Thanksgiving
dinner cooking.

and the other 1% …
you’ll find yourself on
your knees praying
little earthquakes

for soul of the poor
sad spammer sitting
home all alone in a

polyester shirt, ill-fitting
undies and jazz slippers
with a busted-out toe.

For all you wild and wonderful dVerse Poetry Open Link Tuesday peeps.

That was me as a spammer last year.

Fun times back then.

Worked my buns a lot.

How ’bout these buns…

Ellie of the Home Cooking In Montana blog made and photographed those!!

And a shout to Tori Amos’ Number One Fan.

xooxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

EDIT on May 24th at 6:20 Texas Time…. there, I’ve finally tweaked the poem to where I like it.

THANKS to you for sticking by me through all my imagery “top-ups” on this.

This started a few days ago as a poem about…

someone with eyes
the color of messaged
bottles sunk in sand

and fingers like pillars
holding up archways in
far off coffee piazzas,

a last week poem
before rembrandt burned
up my toyota’s tranny

and salvador dali
spilled his champagne
on my photoshop files.

yes, last week when
this poetess ate cakes
of forgotten autumn

she writing, who now
has a JOB, as in… a place
she goes every weekday

to accomplish gainful
and highly meaningful
stuff, for like HOURS,

this happy one who
still loves you like she
loves the colors of

the stars’ arms
reaching to tuck the
earth in each night.

Tuesday Open Link Day at dVerse Poetry.

Yes, I’m now working a “day job” in an office, whooooohoooo.

Life is good here. Hope yours is too?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Oh, and here’s that same piazza painted by Cannaletto in 1730.

That’s in Venice. Never been. Looks nice.

Meet me there for coffee some Thursday?

P.S. I’ll be around to your blogs and answering comments again soon, whoooohooooo.