Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Lydia's Bubble Shooter

O my sweet bubble gun,
You are just a bundle of fun!
Everyday you bring me such joy,
Yes! You are my favorite toy!

One day we stopped off at Wal-Mart,
I hitched a ride on my mommy's cart.
Yahoo!  Now it was finally time
To spend my collection of nickels and dimes.

Rainbow Play-Doh I didn't pick.
My Little Pony just didn't click.
But in the last aisle on the bottom shelf,
Was a cardboard box I could reach myself.

And there you were.

To my childish and utter delight,
With a click of a trigger danced a twinkle of lights!
And a gazillion bubbles frolicked in the air,
Just like the packaging told me ... right here.

So I sit all day on my front porch,
Holding my gun like the Olympic torch.
Sparkling lights and a myriad of bubbles,
Help to keep me out of many a trouble.

You're soapy, slimy and slippery, for sure,
But against my addiction there is no known cure.
I'll giggle, squeal, laugh and shout,
Until all the magical juice runs out.

Then I'll fill you again.


______________________________________________

#4 - Write a poem about your child's favorite toy.

Mama’s Losin’ It


Thursday, July 12, 2012

A Challenging Dance


I Am
I am soaking it up and seeking more.
I wonder about the speedy slowness of time.
I hear my children growing inch by inch.
I see God planting His purposes in their hearts.
I want to keep them close and set them free.
I am soaking it up and seeking more.

I pretend I can be Mommy and Me simultaneously.
I feel the pull of mothering and the tug of othering.
I touch words to form stories and tales.
I worry I'll miss the firsts and lasts of my babies.
I cry that this mothering dance consumes my every ounce.
I am soaking it up and seeking more.

I understand mothering matters.
I say God's plan is perfect.
I dream of time to pour out my heart into words.
I try to mother and other; doing them both well.
I hope to leave a legacy worth passing on.
I am soaking it up and seeking more.

________________

Now it's your turn!  
Here's the link ... share who you are in the comments.


__________________________________

#4 - Complete the I Am template.  This was a crazy-fun challenge for my brain.  And my heart!

Mama’s Losin’ It


Saturday, February 25, 2012

Snapshots of the Heart ~ Hope

My big kids both recently finished an intensive study of poetry in their classes.  For several months they were submerged in the world of poetry - both reading it and writing it.  I have been astounded by their creativity and my mommy-heart has been touched by their words.  Here are my two favorites poems by my two favorite poets.

This first one is called a "Bio Poem".  Each line follows a template that the kids filled in with their own personal details.  I love how these few phrases truly capture my boy.  A snapshot of his heart.

Aaron
Nice, smart, strong, red-head
Sibling of three sisters
Who cares about the safety of the U.S.A.
Who feels good about his friends
Who needs good friends
Who gives support to his two gymnasts
Who fears blackouts
Who would like to see Alcatraz
Resident of Grand Junction, Colorado
Kellum

In particular, I am a little partial to his description of being nice ... he IS a nice boy.  He doesn't have a mean bone in his body!  I also love his nod to his sisters ... he is one of their most enthusiastic cheerleaders!  He is our social kid which is revealed in the lines about his friends and he is currently in the trenches of learning about the importance of being a good friend and choosing good friends.  As for the Alcatraz bit ... can you guess what books he's brought home from his most recent library trips?  You got it.  

I hope that he will always see his life through these few words:  nice, smart, strong, supportive, a friend, caring and authentic.

This next one is from Norah and it brought tears to my eyes when I read it.  Sitting there in the midst of her fall parent/teacher conference.  In front of her teacher.  Whew!  My little girl is significantly older than her mere 8 years.  I love how this poem taps into the depth of her heart and gives us a little snapshot of her spirit.

The Hawk

I feel so high
I'm a hawk in the sky
Soaring
Over a world of green
The grass is sweeping
The willow trees weeping
As the bees bring honey to me

My heart full of rapture
My voice full of joy
I need nothing but the sky
I need grass and trees
And honey bees
But mostly I need
The sky

I have so many hopes and dreams for my baby girl ... but they don't even begin to compare with what God has in store for her!  It is a privilege to watch my girl take flight and soar.

And here are my two cents about hope ...

Hanging on to what we know of God.
Overcoming fears and doubt.
Patiently waiting for promises fulfilled.
Experiencing His pleasure as we seek Him.


"May the God of hope grant that my children may 
overflow with hope and hopefulness 
by the power of the Holy Spirit."  
Romans 15:13




Thursday, January 26, 2012

Storm Warning!

There's a new storm brewing
At the foot of the stairs.
We should head to high ground,
Or be caught unawares.

It started with whining,
And moved on to moaning
The winds of change blew in,
The air's filled with groaning!

There's a thud!
Then a thump!
And a shout!
And a bump!

And a wail!
Then a cry!
And a sniffle,
And sigh...

Oh, the tempests of toddlers!

Whirlwinds spinning out of control.
Tornados and tempers; we rock and we roll.

A twister of tantrums and troubles and tears,
All of this howling is hard on my ears!

Emotional hurricanes leave only puddles.
Tropical Storm Weeda, in need of some cuddles.


As I remember how Jesus calmed the storm with His voice, 
I can only pray that He will speak to our hearts when 
we're being tossed about in our own stormy seas.
Be we 3 or 37 years old. :)
__________________________________________
Prompt #2 ~ Write a poem inspired by the word "storm".  
Which we might have considered as Lydia's middle name.  
At least when it comes to not having MnM's for breakfast.

Mama’s Losin’ It



Thursday, January 12, 2012

Are You Still Hungry?!

Some nights, both Aaron and Norah come to the table absolutely and utterly ravenous.  And then dinner goes a little something like this ...

How Can You Still Be Hungry?

My dear, sweet child,
You ate it all.
With all that you've eaten,
I guess you'll be tall.

We started with burgers,
And moved onto chips,
Threw in a few veggies,
And a couple of dips.

And now you say,
"I'm still hungry"?

Well, you also ...

Had a glass of milk,
The real stuff,
Not the drink called Silk,

Munched a couple berries,
Dug out a handful
Of frozen cherries,

Then a dish of peas,
And a quesadilla
Piled high with cheese,

A bowl of "Life",
With a banana,
Sliced with a knife,

A piece of cold pizza,
The one with the veggies
And a whole lotta meatsa,

A PBJ sandwich,
All this food makes
Makes my right eye twitch,

For dessert, a "log" with "ants",
It's time to buy
You longer pants!


_____________________________


Prompt #1 ~ Write a poem inspired by the last conversation you had with your child.  In this case, our nightly conversation.

Mama’s Losin’ It



Thursday, November 10, 2011

Friends

I really want to say "Thanks!"
You've given me such help.
Taking on the screen-time strain,
Stopping my nag and my yelp!

Now I just type in some numbers,
With a beep and a boop and a beep,
I'm off to do laundry or cleaning
And my Mommy-mouth makes not a peep.

Instead of me nagging and whining
When the screen time should come to an end,
I'll let you do all the reminding,
Oh, Kitchen Timer, you are my friend!

What's that?  Of course, you're great, too!
You're one of my handiest gadgets.
Not only do you keep my food fresh,
But you also connect with my magnets.

You are stuffed of good things to eat,
On you, all my veggies depend,
The milk, cheese and butter are cold
Refrigerator, you are my friend!

Oh, please, please, please, do not grumble!
Of course, you are important, too.
Without your scrubbers and sprayers,
I'd be scouring and feeling so blue!

I delight in loading your racks,
Plates, cups and bowls turned upend,
Forks, spoons, and knives to be cleaned
By you, Dishwasher, my friend.

I hear whining from behind the door
Your wails can be heard upstairs.
You know you are precious, too.
And I'm grateful you came as a pair.

You wash all our grubbies so well
And leave them fluffed and dry at the end.
No need to beat them on rocks,
Washer-n-Dryer, you are my friend.

Oh brother, are you whining, too?
You see action most every day!
Nuking our lunches and dinner,
Watching food rotate round on your tray.

You're essential when it's time to cook.
But I'm even more grateful to send,
My coffee and tea for a reheat,
Yes, Microwave, you are my friend.

Did I hear you let out a groan?
Now this is getting absurd!
From you Cuisinart food processor,
I don't want to hear another word!

I'm grateful for each of my helpers,
Whether you clean or toast or blend,
But this is feeling like high school ...
Why can't you each be my friend?!?
_________________________

Prompt #4 ~ Write a poem where the last two words are "my friend".  It's possible that I need to get out and be social with some actual people! :)  But in reality, without these sweet friends, I would never have a social life.  I'd be too busy hauling water from the creek and heating it in the fireplace!

Mama’s Losin’ It

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Right Loss

Oh, vile scale,
why are you so cruel?
In spite of my efforts,
It's my life you rule.

One day at a time,
Choosing good foods to eat,
Squeezing in a brisk walk,
Cutting out my sweet treat.

Keeping track of my meals,
And tracking my miles,
Making good habits
That should bring me smiles.

Instead I stand gloomy,
Peering down at the Boss,
Nary a number has moved,
So much for weight loss!

But, wait!  Don't go yet ...
I'm not done with my bit.
Turns out there IS change,
Hey, look!  My pants fit!

I am noticing a change
In my a-bit-flatter abs
And my hiney is higher,
With legs losing their flabs!

I am choosing more veggies,
And cutting out fat,
Taking steps toward good health,
Stretching out on a mat.

While the numbers don't lie
And I've more weight to lose,
I'm losing the scale ...
It's freedom I choose!

____________________________

Prompt #4:  Write a poem inspired by the word, "Loss".
Here's to knowing I'm healthier ... but not because a three-digit number on the scale told me so!

Mama’s Losin’ It