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 A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination. |
 A log of our magnificent journey. |
| I am the love in a devoted dad’s heart as he firmly reclaims my rusty frame from a pile of abandoned junk and starts to remove all the grime and greasy gunk before earnestly refurbishing by hand. Amidst the vapors of turpentine and oil, he toils with paint scraper and sandpaper. He’s softly humming a hymn as he straightens my bent fender and tightens loose spokes with his wrench. Then a coat of powder blue paint with black trim, chrome handlebars, a well-oiled chain, and pristine tires render my splendor as good as new. I’m the light in a child’s eye on Christmas morn seeing me adorned with a big red ribbon beside the tree with its dazzling light display twinkling brightly and fresh-cut pine fragrance. I am the joy in that child’s voice at my response to his first push against the pedal blocks under the steadying grasp of his trusted dad, oblivious to the snow and icicles on the old oaks hanging over the country lane, putting the crowning touch on my resplendent bicycle renaissance. |
| Eighty years ago, we took a mighty blow which struck our nation to its very core. We must remember that dark December and what the enemy had in store. The evil they revealed against our shield awakened sleeping giant with its roar. Their sneak attack brought a lot of flack when Yamamoto's fleet sailed from distant shore. Unfortunately, freedom is not free. We paid a heavy price in that war. We must remember that dark December and what the enemy had in store. Notes ▼ |
| The sounds of Christmas are in the air, bringing back memories of when we were young and could not wait for old Saint Nick. Tree was cut and decorated with great flair. With carols on the radio, stockings were hung. Then, we hid and waited for midnight tick. Receiving gifts was nice, but today I say the greatest gift of all: one more day. |
| Alas! The days are shrinking and glass of sunlight needs refill. Morass of darkness starts me thinking of passive mood brought by winter chill. What better time to sit and write? Forget the outside misery and let imagination incite poetic wandering therapy. Prompt: "Alas!" from The Collected Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe, page 617 |
| The smell of coffee, orange marmalade sunrise, and the meadowlark's song imbue my thankful heart with happiness. |
| I am very sick so I have to lick my snot from upper lip quick or it gets too thick with clot, and then I just flick the boogers I pick. So what? Notes on the Lai form of poetry ▼ |
| We say grace and give thanks for blessings we are about to receive. Then, Grandpa picks up knife and fork and starts to carve the roasted turkeys to serve with all the fixings-- candied yams, cranberry sauce, dressing for all those in need down at the church. Notes ▼ |
| On the eleventh day of November, we take a moment to remember the sacrifices that our soldiers made with bands and flags and veterans on parade. High school students march with horns a-tooting, while crowd along the street is saluting. Then, the backyard barbecues commence, hosted by patriotic residents. |
| The gentle creaking of Grandpa's rocking chair sings a song of cozy contentment, while aromas from the kitchen speak of Grandma's pumpkin pie baking in the oven, delivering holiday cheer. 6 lines 30 words Free verse |
| Heroes, each and every one, On a mission to protect our freedom, Never faltering, never wavering. Obeying command to go, Regardless of risk or cost, Imparting our sacred values, Navigating global maze, Giving notice to the enemy. Over and over again, Undaunted courage Responds to threats. Vigorous defender of liberty, Exercising constant vigilance, Trained to meet any challenge, Endowed with best equipment, Resolute attitude, Addressing every mission, Night and day without fail, Serving our nation with honor. Notes on the Acrostic form of poetry ▼ |
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