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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1423175
Rated: E · Poetry · Entertainment · #1423175
poems about changing seasons of nature and life, silly thoughts, Christmas, no money,
Summer Harvest

The aroma of freshly baked zucchini bread
Weaves through the air like embroidery thread,
Blending with fragrances of stewed tomatoes,
Of home grown onions, squash, and potatoes,
Newly dug from cultivated hills of soil,
The tapestry of summer harvest, woven with toil,
And sweat, and watchful eye, and prayer,
Is displayed for us with pride and care.
My summer tapestry is nearly done.
Toward autumn's beauty I must run,
Where deep, rich colors hide decay,
And frost on the crops I can't delay.
As fall gives way to winter's chill,
Memories of summer will linger still.
(This also is found separately in this portfolio.)

A Christmas Card 2008

As this year ends, the economy’s stinking,
Our country’s a mess to my way of thinking.
Pakistan and India are in great turmoil,
American soldiers tread foreign soil.

Auto makers and bankers are crying for aid,
Check out the quality of “American made”.
Jobless and homeless are on the rise,
Around us moral bankruptcy lies.

Crime is rising and prices are, too.
The news on TV can make you feel blue.
Health care’s a problem and so’s education.
Few speak English in a growing population.

Yet bells ring out and carols are sung,
Every where you go, the holly is hung.
We’re reminded again this time of year,
To be of good will and drink eggnog with cheer.

But how can we do that with so many in pain?
Dare we wish others “Merry Christmas” again?
On we go with our fondest traditions,
Our music, our food, our fine decorations?

For through the centuries the words have been true:
There is peace on earth and hope for you.
It’s been there always right from the start,
It’s not in the news but there in your heart.

Now we need Christmas more than ever before,
No matter the size of the wreath on the door.
I’m wishing for you all the joys of the season,
Love, hope, and peace—Christ is the reason. 



If Only

If only money grew on trees,
And twenties fell like autumn leaves,
I’d rake my yard clean every day,
And to the bank I’d speed away.

I’d stash some cash on a closet shelf
And pay my bills with my great wealth.

I’d dissolve my debt and get repairs
On car, on house. And airs
I would not dare display.
Living humbly and simply would be my way.

But, sigh, money doesn’t grow on trees,
And twenties don’t fall like autumn leaves.

Leaf bags I need not collect
Nor rakes nor boxes. I do expect
Bill collectors to keep on calling
And my living standard to keep on falling.


A Limerick for Eddie

There once was a fellow named Eddie.
Girls wearing perfume made him heady.
He'd fall for their charms
And into their arms.
Now he's feeding four children spaghetti.


Limerick for Rena

There once was a lady named Rena
Who really liked pork and beana.
She ate some for lunch
With the rest of the bunch.
Then she went for a walk to get leana.




© Copyright 2008 pumpkin (heartburn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1423175