By AnnieDawn
I lay here and I cannot leave my bed.
This stroke has made life more than I can bear.
Can't walk or run, can't even move my head,
Or feed myself, can't even comb my hair.
I have a nurse who's caring seems to be
Built in like mothers caring for their own.
She always knows just what to do for me
And lets me know that I am not alone.
She bathes me, feeds me, tells me current news.
Knows I have pain when tears slip from my eyes.
Her touch is gentle, never will abuse.
She turns me so I see a new sunrise.
Our nurses are the Angels without wings.
Remembering important little things.
| Author Notes |
Of all the essential workers, those in the medical field often give above and beyond what their jobs require. This is for one of the many who work tirelessly to make our lives more comfortable in times of need.
Thank you Joelgraphuchin on FanArtReview for the use of your artwork. |
By AnnieDawn
Stray Bullet
Chest Wound
Life Blood
Slowly Lost
Wrong Place
Wrong Time
Gone Forever
| Author Notes | More than one child has been hit by a stray bullet during the past few months and lost to family forever. This is an unfortunate tragedy that is preventable. Unforgivable. |
By AnnieDawn
She was tempted to defend. It wasn't fair!
As the bully kept on pulling her friends hair.
The gradeschool teacher kindly cleaned the mess.
When he bloodied her nose and it spoiled her dress.
The teacher called her Mom, patted her cheek.
But Mom said she was grounded for a week.
| Author Notes | True story. Really! I thought boys weren't supposed to hit girls. |
By AnnieDawn
I know that I will always hear
A crowds loud cheer
A bell that rings
A bird in spring
I know He made for I was told
Great oceans bold
A spiral shell
Cleaned by waves swell
These things I know I'll never see
Like tall green trees
A friend that's kind
For I am blind
| Author Notes | So much can be done these days to reverse blindness but in some cases the defect is irreversible which is a tragedy. |
By AnnieDawn
As fall inhales in readiness to blow
A BREATH of COLD to sweep summer away
Winter slowly wakes ready to go
Icy Jack Frost will soon be out to play
Fingers of ICE creep slow across the land
Spreading like FIRE across each window pane
Creating lacy patterns oh so grand
As people bundle warmly once again
| Author Notes |
From the feel of the air recently, this is happening.
(Each required word is set in capitals) |
By AnnieDawn
She sat on the wooden, back porch steps. It was summer, and the four-year-old girl was sent outside to play. There was no one to play with; so she sat and watched the puffy, white clouds floating in the warm, summer sky and listened to the bird songs as they sang to her in the trees across the driveway.
She had not been feeling very well that day and a pain began to develop deep in her tummy. As it grew worse she wondered if she should go inside and tell Mommy, but soon she was unable to stand up or speak. She tried to call Mommy but no words would come out of her mouth. She tried to move her legs and go back into the house but the pain would stab into her tummy and was so intense she could not move. The four-year-old had no exposure to death but the words "you are going to die" went through her mind over, and over again. Was she going to die? What did that mean? The pain was so bad she could not even cry. What was she going to do?
As she sat there on the warm, wooden steps she tried to turn over to crawl inside the house but the pain shot through her abdomen. "No, that won't work" she thought. The puffy clouds and bird songs were put aside as the pain had taken over her world. There were no neighbors close by and the house sat on a lonely side street in a tiny town so there was no traffic passing by the small house. She was alone, outside, all by herself and she was having so much pain that she couldn't move. She tried to cry but it hurt too much so Mommy wouldn't hear her cry. She couldn't crawl or cry so no one knew she had so much pain. She didn't know what to do.
Mommy had been sending her to vacation Bible school at the church across the street, and the songs they sang said that Jesus loves the little children. "Does He love me?" she thought. "Is that a real song?" The teacher talked about how Jesus answers prayers when children talk to him. The class had prayed to Jesus with the teacher. Would He listen if she talked to Him? Maybe that was what she should try. Yes, she couldn't cry, she couldn't crawl, but she could whisper. A simple "Jesus please take this pain out of my tummy" was her whispered prayer.
The pain was gone in a matter of seconds. It just melted away. Jesus does answer prayer! She scrambled to her feet, ran inside, and told Mommy what happened.
During her childhood, she suffered several illnesses that brought her close to death, and at age 15 she experienced abdominal pain which brought back the memory of that incident on the back porch steps. She was in the High School study hall, and unable to walk or talk with extreme abdominal pain. That time she ended up in the hospital and underwent an appendectomy. Never again did she fear for her life or have the words "you are going to die" go through her mind. She knew from the moment that her stomach pain was healed that Jesus was real, and her faith in God was grounded.
| Author Notes | This story is proof that exposing children to Jesus at a young age has lasting effects on them. |
By AnnieDawn
This contest goal is set on coping.
Well I, for one, am surely hoping
All themes for poems that I am scoping
Will trigger smiles, not senseless moping.
One sees a counselor for depression.
During the first counseling session
One's urged to give complete confession
That gives one the undue impression
That one is far beyond all hope.
This life is such a slippery slope
Which leaves one hanging with no rope,
And all the counselor says is "cope".
Show me some guidelines set for living.
Are you receiving? Where's the giving?
I do not see a shred of hope
When all one's told to do is "cope".
By AnnieDawn
Sweets
Come in all kinds of treats
Eats
By AnnieDawn
All loss takes a toll
Permanent void in one's life
It bruises the soul
| Author Notes | Especially the sudden loss of a child can leave an empty space in one's life that never fills. You can do a lot of things to overcome and it eases the pain but the pain never goes away. Even counseling will help but the void never fills completely. It depends on the person as to how one adjusts to living after the loss and each is different but there is still the hole in the heart that never heals. |
By AnnieDawn
A heat wave blazes ruthlessly along.
Both bee and butterfly have been dispelled
Cheating both lawn and garden, which are gone.
Destroyed is all I planned to eat or sell.
The pollinating cycle broken down.
| Author Notes | Even watering daily, my garden has been nearly destroyed by the heat. I don't see any bees polinating this year. |
By AnnieDawn
That round, red, globe they call a veg.
My Mama called a beet.
It comes in slice, or cube, or wedge.
They cut them up real neat.
Don't put that thing upon my plate.
That vegetable I'll always hate.
No spinach, pea, or even cuke
Has ever made me retch or puke.
By AnnieDawn
I press a wriggling worm onto my hook.
Then drop the line into the nearest brook.
In hopes, a big, fat trout will take a look,
And bite so I can take him home to cook.
But!
This Is The Story!
When I was small we used to camp with kin.
To stem the trouble we were always in
They sent us fishing, much to our chagrin,
With string, and crackers, and a safety pin.
Our little naked feet soon quickly took
The treasures off to catch a fish to cook.
The crackers never made it on the hook.
We ate them wading in the freezing brook.
Great hours of play but we in wet clothes clad
Trudged back to camp with eyes downcast and sad.
For string and safety pins were all we had.
Smiling they hugged us and said, "That's too bad."
| Author Notes | We were a group of 4 small kids about ages 4 down to about 2 1/2. So much more freedom to roam in those days and we watched after each other. The brook was about 2 - 3 inches deep at the most. Very safe for youngsters and within eyesight of the adults at all times. |
By AnnieDawn
It really is not such a hard choice or task,
So join with your neighbors and please wear a mask
By AnnieDawn
Moss covered tablets of stone
Stand sentry above buried bone.
Acres set back from the road.
Infrequently tended or mowed.
Forgotten for centuries, at least
Most of them read "Rest In Peace."
Close family members long gone.
So no one's left to carry on.
How valiant our soldiers "so brave".
Forever we'll honor their graves.
But without flags or floral spray
Old graveyards still crumble, decay.
By AnnieDawn
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Buzzing, little honey bee
If you stay away from me
You won't sting.
I have watched you for an hour
As you zoom from flower to flower
Gathering.
If you sting me I might die.
My request is "Please don't try."
That is mean.
Though your stinger gives an ouch,
Pollen gathered in your pouch
Feeds your queen.
| Author Notes | This picture was taken at a blueberry festival where I got stung shortly after I took this picture and ended up in the ER. Not fun! |
By AnnieDawn
My favorite color is the color green.
I found that was my Mothers favorite too.
I never would have guessed because it seems
The color that she wore the most was blue.
Mom took me, as a child, through mossy woods.
All carpeted with needles shed from pine.
Pine needles fell upon our sweatshirt hoods.
There always seemed to be the most on mine.
I still can see the sunshine peeking through
The lofty branches high above our heads.
I wish we had more times, but walks were few.
By sundown we just fell into our beds.
The sadness I now feel since she is gone
Is like an open wound I cannot heal.
The walks I took my kids on seemed too long
To mend the wound or temporarily seal.
| Author Notes | Nostalgia is a funny word. It can draw out many, many feelings or just one. Anger, sadness, happiness, or a combination of these and many more. |
By AnnieDawn
I never set a certain goal.
Thoughts spring from deep within my soul,
With words that swirl within my head
Like maybe things my kids have said.
It doesn't take a lot of thought
To write of lessons life has taught.
It gives me lots of room to roam
For stories I put in a poem.
By AnnieDawn
I loved my children through the years.
Helped baby steps, dried many tears.
I mended scrapes along the way
and finally graduation day.
My kids have grown, now have their own,
and Nana reaps the seeds she's sown.
New little ones with precious voices
echo Nana's gifted choices.
| Author Notes | What better way to enter your senior years than to participate in your grand children's lives. |
By AnnieDawn
Across the hills are drifts of glistening snow.
Boughs and branches soon are bending low.
Children bundled tight with sleds in tow;
Drag them towards the hills with cheeks aglow.
Each child yells "Let me be first to go!"
| Author Notes |
Year after year winter snow remains a playground for children.
(Thank you vMarguarite for your beautiful winter scene.) |
By AnnieDawn
Write
A song to fill life
With long lasting beauty
Memories from another time
| Author Notes | Music fills the soul with beautiful emotion, and draws memories from the past to enrich the present. |
By AnnieDawn
I can't believe that it is true
That I'm the only one for you
And yet it took me years to see
That you're the only one for me
A benefit when life can say
That soulmates are the only way
By AnnieDawn
Although my journal script is new,
begun before I sleep at night.
Courage I lack to see it through.
Dodging memories is my plight.
Exactly why remains a fact
For mystery extracts no clues.
"God Willing" I could take it back.
however, one must pay one's dues.
Indecision makes me pause
just before I scratch it off
kindly questioning the cause;
likely as friends tend to scoff.
Must I live within the realm
noting others goals will rise;
operating at the helm
purposeful within their lives.
Questions pondered, some I dread.
Rest eludes me so, no sleep.
Should I stop while I'm ahead?
Time to sow and then to reap?
Understanding gets me naught.
Vital feelings set my goal.
Why delete entire plot.
X the bad parts not the whole
Youth succumbs to ebb and flow.
Zest swims in the afterglow.
| Author Notes | This contest has been a real challenge to keep the flow going in poem form. |
By AnnieDawn
Because
you filled my life
with so much pain,
self worth will keep me from ever loving again.
By AnnieDawn
Do not complain
when life stays the same.
Smile? Worthwhile.
| Author Notes | I have a tendency to complain, and am working on replacing that with smiles. |
By AnnieDawn
He found a rusty nail
as he walked along the trail
so, he picked it up and put it in his jeans.
The story doesn't linger
as the nail had pricked his finger;
for it takes a twist that's stranger than it seems.
Now several days had passed,
but the symptoms came at last.
He grew anxious, yelled at everyone he saw.
Perspiration caused an itch.
Muscle parts began to twitch.
Till at last contractions finally locked his jaw.
There's a moral to the story
for it can become quite gory.
It's a simple fix with only one condition.
It doesn't take a lot.
Prevent tetanus with a shot.
Obtainable through every pediatrician.
| Author Notes |
"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." Benjamin Franklin
This poem is written in the "Leonine" style. |
By AnnieDawn
She drove me crazy, this little one who I conceived and gave birth to just four years earlier. Such a tender hearted child she had become. There was not a creature or insect that did not have her attention, and she cuddled every thing she came in contact with.
Alaska was our home with long winters indoors, so we took drives to see the interesting places outside of Anchorage during the short weeks of summer. The frosts of fall came along too soon for much outdoor play for children. Summer only lasted six weeks at the most. A favorite spot to visit was Portage Glacier. It had lots of tundra for the kids to run around on discovering bird nests and other small creatures and insects native to the area. A couple of picnic tables took care of where we settled for lunch. The glacier was beautiful with a shallow lake at the base. The water was freezing but the kids would splash in it barefoot until their toes were red as raspberries.
We sang songs when traveling. "Mares eat oats and does eat oats" got the children laughing each time we sang it. Another favorite was "When the sun in the morning peeps over the hill". Mocking Bird Hill seemed to be the song that captured her attention the most. She was a child that loved birds.
On the way home, one summer day, a bird flew in front of the moving car. Of course, we hit it, which killed it instantly. In order to stop my daughter's tears I finally consented to pull over and hunt the poor thing down. After we found it, at her insistence, we had to give it a proper burial. It took several plastic spoons to dig the hole in the hard ground as they kept breaking. She was patient and dug the small hole all by herself.
The bird was finally buried and then a funeral planned and carried out by my four year old. With a straight face I helped her sing Mocking Bird Hill over the grave, and then she said the only prayer she knew at the time. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. She was satisfied with her efforts. There was only a sniffle or two the rest of the way home. Such was a day in the life of my four year old. Now that she is grown she does not remember the incident, but I will never forget that precious time.
| Author Notes |
Mockingbird Hill and Mares Eat Oats are old songs my mother taught me when I was little, and we were driving a long distance that required a bit of ingenuity to keep me occupied. It was a joy to sing with her, and my kids had just as much fun as I remember having.
"Mairzy Doatsâ?? was a song written in 1943 by Milton Drake, Al Hoffman & Jerry Livingston, and perhaps most-famously recorded by The Pied Pipers in 1944. "Mockin' Bird Hill" was written by Vaughn Horton and sung by Mary Ford. Other artists to record this song include George Jones, Patti Page and Gene Pitney. |
By AnnieDawn
In masquerade the form is blurred;
On this my foolish dreams will hover?
I only see the written word.
Should I contact this "Internet Lover"?
By AnnieDawn
The placid water licked the shore.
It's now whipped to a deafening roar
by fall winds settling the score.
Overhead the seagulls screech
at beach balls floating out of reach.
Fall's coming to the sandy beach.
By AnnieDawn
My heart remains upon the shore
Where once the ocean's raging roar
Stirred foamy flecks which rode the tide.
On summer days I spent in awe
Observing oddities I saw
While overhead gray gulls would glide.
And each and every breath of air
Would sprinkle salt spray in my hair.
A mermaid's veil fit for a bride.
| Author Notes |
Nove Otto Is a poem with nine lines, eight syllables in each line, and with a rhyme scheme that is as follows aacbbcddc
I yearn to live young once again Retracing rugged paths I've been I'm tired and not so tough I'm told. Guess mostly memories serve the old. |
By AnnieDawn
Love
Sets Up
The Rhythm
Of My Beating
Heart
| Author Notes |
The Lanturne is a five-line verse shaped like a Japanese lantern with a syllabic pattern of one, two, three, four, one.
Hearts always beat faster when the opposite sex is around. |
By AnnieDawn
R-equest then said
S-he gave him head.
T-heir clothes were shed
U-nder the bed
in comic disarray.
By AnnieDawn
Yes I like to keep a smile in place.
Maybe you have seen one on my face?
No I don't pretend to be real strong;
Maybe that's where you say I go wrong.
Yes the sun and moon won't fade away.
Maybe cause my smile lights up the day?
No one likes to be the brunt of talk;
Maybe take some time and walk my walk.
Yes our yesterdays reflect time spent.
Maybe in a way time lines are bent?
No one saw that mine had ups and downs;
Maybe why I count less smiles, more frowns.
Yes reflection causes us to think.
Maybe doubt sifts through quick as a wink.
No, I don't think life has been a waste;
Maybe some things done were done in haste.
| Author Notes | I believe we all have a time of reflection on areas in our lives where we question choices, or paths we have taken. |
By AnnieDawn
Ferry's make a lot of trips.
Belly dancers swing their hips.
My ticker does a lot of skips
When I think of you.
Oh my sweetie time does fly.
Remember Aunt Jane's apple pie?
My mouth still tingles when I spy
A crumb left on your lips
Please don't leave me in such pain.
Haul me in out of the rain.
When I have so much to gain.
Make me a lucky guy.
By AnnieDawn
Kick
The can
We all tried
To run and hide
Each picked a safe place
Who was "it" would pass by
I always hid behind trees
I was the first one to get caught
Being the youngest was difficult
Finally a new boy moved in next door
| Author Notes | We grew up in the country and had few toys to play with so invented games. Kick the can was one of them. The can would be kicked by whoever was "it" and everyone else would run like crazy and hide and when the can stopped moving the person would count to 100 out loud and the seek out the others. Being the youngest I always got caught first. |
By AnnieDawn
| Author Notes | We used to pour salt on the ones we found in the garden. |
By AnnieDawn
A blizzard charges through the dell,
beneath a tree I shelter there.
Come, mother dear, please, look for me!
During my walk from school I fell.
Evening is coming, I am cold,
for my thin coat is not so warm.
Going to sleep seems just the thing -
how else to make it through this storm?
Indeed, the blizzard now is worse;
Just when I think that I shall die,
keen shadow shapes surround the course,
Look, daylight's gone, I must not cry.
My sleepy eyelids slowly close
As I freeze in this fetal pose.
| Author Notes |
This poem is actually based on a true event that happened to a seven year old girl who got lost walking home from school during a freak blizzard but was finally found during the blizzard by her mother. She was under a tree in a graveyard that she had to pass through on her way home from school.
|
By AnnieDawn
That picture in my locket isn't you
I took yours out and put in someone new
You loved me once and then
You turned around and ran
Now it's my turn to turn my back on you
Chorus...
I loved you... I really loved you
Like Humpty Dumpty's shell I fell apart
I loved you, I truly loved you
Now my new love will mend my broken heart
That picture in my locket isn't you
I took yours out and put in someone new
I cried a lake of tears
The days turned into years
I finally learned to turn my back on you
Chorus...
I loved you... I really loved you
Like Humpty Dumpty's shell I fell apart
I loved you, I truly loved you
Now my new love will mend my broken heart
That picture in my locket isn't you
I took yours out and put in someone new
You want me back again
But I'm in love with him
Yes I can finally turn my back on you
Chorus...
I loved you... I really loved you.
Like Humpty Dumpty's shell I fell apart
I loved you, I truly loved you
Now my new love will mend my broken heart
| Author Notes | The title and lyrics can be changed to "wallet" instead of "locket" for a male version of this song. |
By AnnieDawn
The room was dark and I heard whispers as I lay in my bed. They were discussing Christmas. Christmas? What was that?
There were still blackouts in the United States three years after World War II began in 1941. My Dad was in the Navy and on this trip Mom took me with her. I can remember traveling by train and bus to follow him when he was stationed somewhere in the US. I had no siblings then so I must have been about two or three years old. We settled in Norfolk, West Virginia where my Dad was stationed at the time.
The scene is vague but the memory is crystal clear in my mind. The next bit of memory is Mom taping the shade to the window and eating by candlelight as the air raid sirens went off. I was afraid of the noise. My parents did not seem to be afraid.
Dad always looked after us and this time was no exception. Due to the times and the order for the blackout, no Christmas lights were to be displayed. I am not sure if the lights were not being sold or just not used, but Dad was not going to have his daughter go through Christmas without them.
I sat opposite him and watched as he wound black tape around the wire and attached the little painted bulbs to the wires. I listened as he explained to Mom that he swiped the bulbs and wire off the ship and that the bulbs were ones used on the display panels. He had painted them the day before. When he finished making the string of lights I do not know what he put them on to, but the effect was what he wanted for I stared at the colored lights and the sight burned a spot in my memory that will last a lifetime. We used those lights on a small, separate Christmas tree each year through my pre-teen years until he finally decided that they were not safe any more and they were put to rest.
| Author Notes | My parents sacrificed for us kids many times over. There are multiple stories I can remember of them doing that. In these times do we unselfishly give like they did? I often ask myself, "Did I do enough for my children?" |
By AnnieDawn
A bit of observation
Tweaks a child's imagination
And the questions that they ask may seem uncanny.
Take my little nephew who
We had taken to the zoo
Had picked out three bright balloons now held by Nanny.
Little boys it's plain to see
When they reach the age of three
That when quiet, brains are deep in speculation.
Entered into Bible school
For a sound behavior tool
Spawned a question that I knew was affirmation.
He stared long up at the sky
Then he looked Mom in the eye
And said "Mom, you know that really is God's home."
"So if I let go of two
And up in the sky they flew
Would He catch them then and keep them for His own?"
| Author Notes | This inquisitive child is now grown with a family of his own on the way. It is my hope that his child will have the same bright mind that he has always had. |
By AnnieDawn
He is a smile begetting a smile,
bringing forth laughter too long
suppressed.
He is the freedom of the sparrow
never to be caged.
He resembles the elements. Thunder,
lightening, a raging storm, yet
softness like a summer breeze that
touches me with gentle fingers.
Like the endless waves upon the
shore he smoothes away the marks of
other travelers.
He offers strength and love that
stirs my inner being and brings
forth hope almost forgotten.
He is a song without words creating
joy.
What is he?
He is my love.
By AnnieDawn
He softly touched her raven hair
but knew they'd not be lovers.
Watched patiently, so hard to bear.
She had her fling with others.
And though they always had been friends,
A bond he knew would never end;
No one could cause his ache to mend.
A brave smile never covers.
From childhood they had lived next door
and played games through the years.
Love in his heart he always bore
but privately shed tears.
His heart is scarred with love he carried;
through the years it never varied.
Companions, yet he never married
But watched as she wed hers.
By AnnieDawn
As I stand here in the rain,
I find healing from my pain
with each drop I feel that falls upon my face.
I stand tall with face uplifted.
And I know that I am gifted
with a love that cancels sin, a Saving Grace.
This cool rain is such a wonder.
A wet blessing I stand under
and I feel it's washing me from head to toe.
For I prayed a prayer today.
"Please take all my sins away."
And this cleansing by the rain helps me to know.
By AnnieDawn
How crazy that I like to write
And share my thoughts on paper.
Beginning deep within my soul
Each memory, bruise, and caper.
I write because the brief release
Of anxiety serves a purpose.
It causes feelings caught in fear
To see light at the surface.
I then can choose and pick a theme
To focus for summation,
And wrap myself in warmth
Because I'm living that occasion.
The best themes are the fantasies;
No misrepresentation.
My topic can be brief or long
With little trepidation,
That short time when I open up
To write a poem with pride
Is such a high before I climb
Back in where I reside.
By AnnieDawn
The snows of winter quickly melt.
Creeks swelling belt out sound.
As Nature's rays of sun are felt,
She knelt; her clock is wound.
The butterfly and buzzing bee
will soon be flitting tree to tree;
their quest, a pollinating spree.
To watch keeps me spell bound.
I listen for the birds in Spring
red Robins sing their song.
A Magpie thief is apt to bring
a string of thefts along.
The Crocus and the Tulip shy
push through the snow and by and by
their vibrant colors catch the eye
and nature's sigh is strong.
With bursts of color seasons pass
They never sass or rest.
Each season has a touch of class
en masse spark man with zest.
While every person likes to cruise
their choice of season's wondrous hues
no matter whether browns or blues
Of course I choose Springs best!
By AnnieDawn
When deadlines paralyze my thoughts
Which focus on my needs, not oughts,
Frustrations cloud and numb my brain
Like Jack Frost on a window pane.
Self pity like an impish scamp
Intensifies my writers cramp.
| Author Notes | A short poem left over from my college days. |
By AnnieDawn
I would not take a vessel made of clay
And use it as a mode of transportation.
For what would all my family have to say
If I sank while on summertime vacation?
I think that one of paper would be silly.
That kind of vessel would not float on water.
Sinking on paper vessels could be chilly.
A stupid trip and I think no one ought ter
Now how about a vessel made of teak?
More sturdy than a vessel made of clay.
At least I know that vessel would not leak,
But keep me floating out on moonlight bay.
| Author Notes | The dictionary states a vessel is a container such as tea kettle or a boat/ship. |
By AnnieDawn
Child frequently bruised beneath dress.
Shame and distress.
Beaten, more pain.
Am I to blame?
Most of her classmates now scorn her.
Works street corner.
Cut, blackened eye
But she can't cry.
Scared, but had to contradict him.
Once a victim.
New strength drives her.
Yes! Survivor!
| Author Notes | I volunteer in victim services. We support and provide resources for victims of violence whether it is a child, woman, or a man. |
By AnnieDawn
"Heath's" the bar I take
when I'm ready to bake
Better than sex cake.
| Author Notes | I actually have a recipe for a cake named "Better Than Sex Cake" and it is to die for it is that good. |
By AnnieDawn
Sparkling stars from night time sky
Light my toddlers eager eye
Petal pink is what I see
Gracing lips of sweet Susie
Pitter Patter is the beat
From soft shoes on baby's feet
Flip flop like a butterfly
| Author Notes | My baby girl is starting to toddle around the house now. I am in heaven watching her. It is the highlight of my day. |
By AnnieDawn
I loved taking care of my plants.
Really don't care too much any more.
Still spraying those carpenter ants
I stuff feelings I really abhor
Really don't care too much any more
My furniture's gathering dust
I stuff feelings I really abhor
Broken lawnmower sits covered with rust
My furniture's gathering dust
Birdseed from the feeder is gone
Broken lawnmower sits covered with rust
Noxious weeds now take over my lawn
Birdseed from the feeder is gone
My hedges...They need to be clipped
Noxious weeds now take over my lawn
At times my mouth needs to be zipped
My hedges...They need to be clipped
My lover's withdrawing from me
At times my mouth needs to be zipped
I know what the next step will be
My lover's withdrawing from me
Still spraying those carpenter ants
I know what the next step will be
I loved taking care of my plants
| Author Notes |
The pantoum consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB in which the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third lines in the succeeding quatrain; each quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD. The first line of the series recurs as the last line of the closing quatrain, and third line of the poem recurs as the second line of the closing quatrain, rhyming ZAZA.
The design is simple: Line 1 Line 2 Line 3 Line 4 Line 5 (repeat of line 2) Line 6 Line 7 (repeat of line 4) Line 8 Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanza then repeats the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line of the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the first line of the poem is also the last. Last stanza: Line 2 of previous stanza Line 3 of first stanza Line 4 of previous stanza Line 1 of first stanza |
By AnnieDawn
You gave to some great voices, Lord, Your praises to be heard.
They sing of You to touch men's hearts and spread your Holy Word.
When I hear voices join in song with praises raised to Thee.
My heart and soul rejoice and join in with the melody.
I was not born for singing. My talents, Lord, are few.
But when I reach my Heavenly Home I'll sing my song for you.
When I stand in Your presence and Angels round me view
You'll touch my voice so I can pour my heart in song for You.
I'll sing about the voices as they sang Your praise to me.
And how it touched my heart and drew me from the world to Thee.
My voice is not a talent made to spread your Holy Word.
But when I reach my Heavenly Home my voice will then be heard.
| Author Notes | Will talents someone does not have here on earth, but strongly desires, be provided when reaching the afterlife? |
By AnnieDawn
Won't you share a cup of tea with me?
The day is still, the sun is bright today.
It isn't what I thought that it could be;
Loud noise and bustle carry me away.
I like the day to start a sense of peace,
While silent evening lingers, is my plea;
And one skips nonsense things like expertise,
So won't you share a cup of tea with me?
It's hot, I'm glad you wore a loose chemise.
We'll stroll the village market casually,
But no, the heat's predicted to increase,
So won't you share a cup of tea with me?
By AnnieDawn
Hi there little honey bee
Please Don't try to land on me
Stings would be the death of me
Working in the morning hour
Duty flight from flower to flower
Though at times you make me cower
If there were no bees to fly
Flower to flower then by and by
Natures beauty here would die
So it makes me glad to view
All you bees and what you do
Keeping flowers alive and new
And I think it kind of funny
How we gladly spend our money
Buying all your precious honey
| Author Notes | I originally found this picture in Gleo85's first page and was unable to find the same page when I entered the contest so I searched for it to use it for my poem. I hope this does not disqualify me. |
By AnnieDawn
As daylight filters through my window pane
My twilight years remind me once again
That life is short and once again will dish
Out rainbow dreams but not
A simple wish
The innocence of childhood fades away
The struggles of the soul spin night and day
Wherein we're not concrete we learn to fish
For ways to make it seem
A simple wish
The wounded past is just a memory
My friends are gone with no one left but me
My destiny was always set too brisk
And hid the need felt for
A simple wish
By AnnieDawn
As a child my arms
would not reach around our big
Pine tree. Now they do.
By AnnieDawn
Moving Can Be Shaky Business
An Interview With A Frightened Mother
The news media frequently carries an interesting story about an earthquake in California or Alaska. Oregon and Washington have somehow escaped these disastrous quakes. They did until the fall of 1965 when Washington experienced its first big earthquake.
The Pacific Coast lies over the San Andreas Fault which starts in the southern state of California and runs north through the coastal states and through our northernmost state of Alaska. It is a powerless feeling to be caught in a situation where Mother Nature shakes her booty.
After living through the earthquake in my hometown, I nearly changed my mind about moving to Alaska where earthquakes are almost an everyday occurrence.The only discomforts Mother Nature had ever bestowed upon me during the uneventful years that fostered my growing up were wet feet and a severe scolding from my parents after one of Washington's winter rainstorms when my new rubber boots sported another of my careless rips. Then the disgrace and humiliation I felt as a teenager when walking to school one day. I had to walk through thick fog, and entered the classroom with limp, pencil straight hair that I had spent a tedious hour curling.
The big quake in Anchorage, Alaska had stunned the nation with it's severity a year before. Our decision was to move there and take advantage of earning a good wage helping with the repairs of building damage, so work was plentiful, and my two toddlers and I were to join my husband in Anchorage. Our household possessions were packed in sturdy cardboard barrels and boxes which were neatly stacked along the hallway separating my bedroom from my toddlers bedroom in our small house. The children's toys were the last things to be packed and then, in a few short days, everything that we owned would be on a ship and headed for Alaska. The children were asleep in their room and I snuggled deeper beneath my comforter when early morning light began to filter through my bedroom window. A narrow strip of blue peeked through a crack in the curtain promising a sunny day which would allow me to finish packing.
Yawning, I started to throw back the comforter when a strange noise attracted my attention. Sitting up in bed, I listened to what sounded like train wheels chugging along tracks far off in the distance. Since there are no trains in the area, I leaned forward straining to hear more of that strange sound. The chugging increased to a rumble as it moved closer to the house, and as the sound increased, the bed, on which I was sitting, began to vibrate. My curiosity turned into fear when the bed began bouncing wildly. I could picture a monstrous train engine, or a herd of stampeding horses, charging through the woods and crashing through the bedroom wall.
Prickles of fear made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end when my attention was diverted to the screams of my toddlers coming from the next room. It was impossible to stand up on the floor. In an attempt to get to the children, my body was severely bounced and jarred, and then thrown back onto the bed. Momentarily stunned, the next thing that I recall was watching, as if in slow motion, my children crawling through the hallway on their hands and knees, crying hysterically, their eyes huge and frightened. The heavily packed boxes bounced around them like Mexican jumping beans. They hesitated for a brief second as the door jam to my bedroom twisted beside them. To this day I don't know how they crawled through that obstacle course without getting hurt. I was almost thrown back onto the floor when I reached over the edge of the bed and pulled them, one by one, onto the bed beside me.
Like little possums they clung to me; their little hearts pounding like tom toms, and their teeth tightly clenched in an attempt to keep them from chattering as the bed tossed us about. We were speechless spectators, watching the bizarre things that were happening around us. Nails popped through the sheetrock like champagne corks on New Tears Eve and the whole structure groaned as if it were about to burst at the seams. The window frames shifted back and forth, corner to comer, like the end of a cracker box as the curtains danced crazily in front of them. Steadying my crying children on the bed after prying their vice like grips from around my waist and neck, I peered through one of the moving windows as I half expected the glass to shatter from it. I was unprepared for what I saw!
The trees, like graceful ballerinas dipped and swayed, their tops nearly touching the ground, while the earth rolled with big rippling waves. My car pitched like a rowboat in a storm, slipping in and out of the troughs, sometimes partially hidden from my view between the rolling waves of earth. Sitting back on the bed and pulling my children close to comfort and protect them, I closed my eyes and wondered when everything around us would fly apart. The wild movement and thundering noise gradually decreased. Like the forth of July. Loud pops exploded around us as the house settled back onto it's foundation.
The damage to our house was minimal, compared to the damage we saw later as we drove through town. The scenes we saw resembled the pictures I remembered seeing of the Alaskan earthquake in 1963. It was as if a giant had stomped through town, randomly swinging a staff and knocking the supports out from under carports, scattering chimney bricks, and snapping trees leaving their splintered ends pointed to the sky; vibrations from his thundering feet cracking foundations. Every bolt had been shaken loose in my car, and, since the earthquake, it has never been driven without complaining with some kind of a rattle that to this day has remained unfixable.
| Author Notes | We flew to Alaska a week later after our belongings were loaded on a freighter. The damage from the 1964 earthquake was 10 times greater than what we witnessed in our hometown. Our move was actually one year after the quake in Alaska and there were still roads blocked off with deep fissures across them that had not been filled. Buildings downtown that had sunk beneath the earth to the top floor with the theater showing only the marquee above ground. We had tremors almost every day that took months to get used to without panic for myself and also the children. |
By AnnieDawn
Oh moon why do you ring your face
With cloudy mist of angel lace?
While all around me cold mist teases,
As it twirls on gentle breezes?
Oh moon why do you always follow
Down the trail and through our hollow?
Leading so I won't walk blind;
Showing trail I've left behind?
Oh moon you climb the sky so slow
While stars begin their nightly show,
And then I watch as you erase
Your round shape down to crescent face.
Oh moon I see you hang so high
Away up in the noonday sky.
Woodland nymphs at noon won't creep.
Are those the times you cannot sleep?
By AnnieDawn
In springtime our creek
ripples over my bare feet
Now my toes are numb
By AnnieDawn
In the early dawn as the sun, with
Her golden rays, peeps over the
Horizon to wake the day;
In the soft, shimmering
Moonbeams that bathe the
Dark face of night;
I see the
Face of
Him.
By AnnieDawn
Your hand I hold In winter's cold,
Then I feel bold.
You're told.
MARRY ME!!
By AnnieDawn
Once upon a time there was a fairy named Serendipity. (Now serendipity happens to mean chance, which is a name that was given to her because her beginning was not planned.) Most fairie's beginnings happen under cabbage leaves, but it was happenstance that Serendipity's beginning was a random one. In all likeliness she was supposed to be a twin, but her beginning was under a lettuce leaf.
Poor Serendipity was begot without a magic wand. Most fairies have them from the beginning and do not get them just by accident. There was the possibility that Serendipity could earn hers, but she would have to find her twin and retrieve the duplicate one her twin had. It was a gamble, but one she was willing to risk. As luck would have it, she was directed past the cabbage patch and to the village of all the fairies born under the cabbage leaves.
The prospect of finding her magic wand was a good one. Serendipity began to sing, and as her lilting song floated on the wind toward the village, it was not just by coincidence that her twin was the one that heard the tune first and answered back. Serendipity found her twin, received her magic wand, and with her twin, lived happily ever after.
| Author Notes | This story will be revised at a later date and written for children. |
By AnnieDawn
Gnome
shaved head like pals now "Chrome
Dome"
By AnnieDawn
Beyond the gray and blackened sky
White foamy swirls on waves crest high
You hear the tolling of the bell
With each wave's cold and torrid swell
Red buoy tossed with anchor gone
Diverts the ships, teases them on
A ship is lost all hands on deck
To fight the waves and whirlpools yet
Churned surface green darkens to deep
Where fishes and the mermaids sleep
The storms claim bounty so you see
The mates on deck were lost at sea
| Author Notes | A thank you to cleo85 for the beautiful artwork. |
By AnnieDawn
She sat outside in the cold morning chill sipping her coffee as the cup warmed her hands. It was amazing to see the bright, twinkling contrast of the stars on the deep, dark sky. The stars were visible even though winter snows had begun with just a few flurries this morning and as she watched the stars a few snowflakes drifted down coating her lashes.
It was still dark there in her valley. Her moist body was still cooling from dreams that allowed little sleep during the night and she shivered. There had been no conversation the night before and her lover had seemed curt and anxious to be off the phone; his voice stern and cold. She liked it when his voice had depth and authority as he instigated sexual play on the phone but now so many questions lay unanswered in her mind.
Her emotions whirled like the snowflakes tumbling in the dawning breeze. She felt like she was caught in a frozen snowdrift much like the one she could see by the rock wall. Perhaps this would become another fantasy that would not climax in joining of bodies but would be locked forever in her mind.
She would carry hope for a while and then.....well there is always some end to every story whether it reaches fulfillment in fact or remains fiction. Eventually her psyche fractured into crystals of ice and became the swirling, drifting, frozen elements....forever lost in a whirlpool of emotion.
| Author Notes |
Please be kind. My first short story.
Thank you CammyCards for the beautiful photo from FanArtReview |
By AnnieDawn
I don't want blackheads, acne,
Or pimples any size.
The scaly look of wind chapped cheeks
Or puffy, racoon eyes.
I've tried the sloppy mud mask.
The dry one that you peel.
The hot, wet towels that when applied
Make me kind of squeal.
I try all products advertised.
Strange brews, concocted potions.
They say the ones that work the best
Are plain, unscented lotions.
I always test whatever's new;
A never ending task.
I just want my complexion clear.
Is that too much to ask?
By AnnieDawn
I will make this my permanent routine, I thought, as I sat in front of my kitchen window watching the rainbow of Northern Lights ripple across the Alaska sky. Unable to sleep this morning, I was up about an hour earlier than usual while my two children were still snuggled under piles of quilts in their beds.
I am a Registered Nurse and work the day shift in the Emergency Room at the Anchorage Community Hospital, and yesterday's shift slid into evening with an emergency Lear jet crash that had us running. We had 7 seriously injured passengers all admitted to our small ER at the same time. With our bed capacity for only 4 patients at a time we ended up with patients on stretchers lining the hallways. The stress of triage and treatment of so many people weighed on my mind. I kept sifting over the details throughout the night. Was there anything more I could have done for my patients? Finally, unable to sleep, I got out of bed and quietly went to the kitchen and made coffee.
Sitting at the kitchen table I held my steaming cup of coffee close to my face and felt the warm steam on my cold nose. It was a below zero winter, and even with the heater going the rooms still held the chill, especially by the window. When the coffee had finished dripping I had turned out the light in the kitchen so as not to wake the children. I was sitting in the dark sipping my coffee and letting my mind wander.
No, I have nothing that I can think of that I did not do last night for my patients. The pace was so fast with x-rays for broken bones, stop the bleeding now on that femoral artery, hurry, cut the pants off that bleeding leg, hand me that syringe! I had to slow my mind and relax. Relax now and let it go. I began to listen to the quiet, the stillness of the early morning. I was aware of the feeling that I was entirely alone and in control of this quiet moment. My nose began to thaw with the steam from the hot coffee. I love the smell of coffee and I drank in the wonderful, full-bodied aroma that I love from that freshly brewed cup full. The first sip that entered my mouth was more intense in flavor than I remember ever experiencing before. I felt like I was in a magical time, that everything was enhanced. Smell, taste and now sight?
As I sat sipping my coffee I happened to glance out the window towards the snow topped mountains in the distance. There, rippling around the mountain peaks, was the Aurora Borealis with more color and width than normally seen. I was entranced by this scene, absorbing the sight of the beautiful, swirling colors into my mind, and as I watched I felt the tension drain out of my body. I stayed by the kitchen window, refilling my coffee cup once, and continued to watch the Northern Lights dance for me until they faded as the sun began to peek over the mountain tops and my alarm rang telling me it was time to wake the children.
That morning was the beginning of many more early mornings that I used to charge my inner batteries before starting the day. I began by setting my alarm an hour earlier than usual, but found that I would wake a few minutes before the alarm went off. I always set the alarm, just in case, but I have never failed to beat it awake.
Morning is my favorite time of the day. I never fail to take advantage of the early morning charging of my inner batteries by listening to nature outside in the summer. Then watching frost etch the window and the Aurora Borealis light show in the winter, and of course with a fresh cup of hot coffee.
| Author Notes | I have continued to get up very early in the morning, before dawn, until the present. I would feel guilty missing the quiet morning escape from the rest of the world. |
By AnnieDawn
Just born into this world so cold
A Mother shedding tears of joy
With years of planning to unfold
Unmeasured love for baby boy
But baby's diagnosed with cancer
Mom prayed for cure but got no answer
Her dreams now shattered how she cried
Then held his hand until he died
| Author Notes | A Rispetto, an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. Iambic Tetrameter usually has 8 syllables per line. |
By AnnieDawn
The rugged path she took leads to the lane
Cheeks flushed, she goes to meet her love again.
Breasts rise and fall as maiden moves with haste.
While her lover's tongue awaits its first sweet taste.
His hands begin unbuttoning her frock.
Her hands reach down to find a hardening cock.
Soon tender breasts exposed to summer air
Invite a teasing smile, a lustful stare.
But wait! Do I hear footsteps through the trees?
The maiden quickly buttons up with ease.
Soon joining hands and strolling down the trail;
They planned their lovers tryst to no avail.
| Author Notes | A little passion, a little humor. Young lovers secretly meet and are discovered. |
By AnnieDawn
I remember all the way back in my childhood to the age of three. The reason I can pinpoint my age is that my brother is four years younger than me, and he was not born yet. I have checked with many family members and friends. I have not found one person who can remember that far back but I can remember back even farther than that. But that is not the point of this story.
Summertime I was sent across the street to a church for vacation bible school. I remember the big paper sun at the front of the class and singing the songs "Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam", and also the song "Jesus Loves Me". I would sit on the wooden back porch of our house and try to sing those songs to myself.
One day I was singing on the back porch when I suddenly became so ill with stomach pain that I couldn't move. I tried to call out to my mother but was doubled over. I could not get a word out to let her know what was happening to me. I can remember thinking that I was going to die. I had previously had no exposure to death so I have no idea where that idea came from, but that is what I knew at that moment. I remembered that at bible school the teacher said that Jesus answers prayer, and they helped us to pray. Would that work for me? My three year old mind grasped onto that thought. I said my simple prayer and asked Jesus to take away that stomach pain. Slowly the stomach pain eased, and finally after a while, it was gone. I was able to get up off of the porch and walk. I don't remember telling anyone about the incident because after all that was the way it worked, wasn't it? You pray and Jesus answers?
This memory lay dormant until my faith was challenged at a later time in my life. Then it was as though a light bulb was turned on. I got my faith from that incident at three years of age. Was it an answer to prayer? I believe so because "I remember".
| Author Notes | This non-fiction story contains 375 words. |
By AnnieDawn
Wandering in my solitude
Before I start the day
I ask myself how long it's been
Since I've knelt down to pray.
Though contemplating God's great love
I need a reason "why?"
My dearest brother, full of life
Was it his time to die?
"I'm angry, help me understand."
Hot tears fall down like rain.
Have faith, God whispers in my ear.....
He's free from all his pain.
| Author Notes | My brother died Feb. 16, 1997 at the age of 22. He left a wife and three small children, the youngest just 2 weeks old. Our whole family was devastated. The criminal was caught , tried, and now spends his life in prison. |
By AnnieDawn
| Author Notes | Daydreaming can sometimes satisfy that inner hunger for momentarily filling the empty void within. |
By AnnieDawn
Ocean waves
Slowly erase
Written sentiments
In sand
Lonely words
Intentionally placed
To disappear
| Author Notes | Words of love written in sand can disappear with the incoming tide to never be read by others. |
By AnnieDawn
Once I tried to climb a tree
But it got the best of me
I was only two plus three
Feeling like a big old dunce
Sadly little girls don't bounce
So I only tried it once
By AnnieDawn
Graveyards
Make me shiver
Haunted
By AnnieDawn
It started with a subtle breeze
That blew the leaves astray
They twirled and swirled and rose aloft
Through most of the whole day
By evening time the breeze had turned
Into a stormy rage
Wild wind and rain with anger shook
The roof and weather gauge
The whole night long I heard it howl
It never sounded mild
I ducked my head beneath the sheets
And felt just like a child
By morning when the sun came out
With sunbeams all in riot
I was so thankful that at last
I had some peace and quiet
| Author Notes | We just experienced a fierce storm in Washington State. |
By AnnieDawn
rare stately lions
have full manes of jet black fur
carnage is concealed
| Author Notes |
The black maned lion has been hunted to the edge of extinction.
Thank you John Soule' for lending your amazing photograph. |
By AnnieDawn
As I hike I see and hear flocks of wild birds fly
I pray my eyesight never ends or my hearing die
As I near my senior years my psyche prompts "don't cry"
Have no fear
What you hold dear
Is in your memory's eye
By AnnieDawn
And so the day begins for you
While once again you watch anew
The sun which dries the morning dew
By AnnieDawn
Yon lady once drank a hexed potion
Then used it to swim the vast ocean
Oh she tried to swim fast
As the drift wood bobbed past
But only could swim in slow motion
By AnnieDawn
Barefoot on the green, green grass I stopped before the door
That led into the garden where I'd never been before.
The door was open just a crack; I took a quick peek in.
The garden was so spacious, where did the end begin?
I squeezed myself right through that crack and tore my new pink dress.
Then tripped and fell into a hole, now what a dirty mess!
And from that hole a fir tree branch whisked me through the air
And set me firmly on the ground with gentle, tender care.
Twas then I saw the field of flowers growing silently.
I tried to pick a present but they bent away from me.
How flexible those moving stems but I know why I think.
A silver bucket sat nearby and they desired a drink.
A lilac tried to make ME drink and grabbed the dipper cup.
I must have screamed a little bit cause that's when I woke up.
By AnnieDawn
Seashells scattered on white beaches
Most within reach
Tides tropical
Forseeable
Spine-edged shells colored pink and buff
Dwellings cast off
Subtly shed
Unlamented
Beachcombers cautious with their finds
Avoid sharp spines
Poisonings are
Avoidable
| Author Notes | There really are venomous shells and their toxin is deadly. It will kill a reef fish instantly but it takes hours to kill a human because humans have so much more mass than reef fish. They snort their dart out and whoever is on the receiving end dies. It is easy to end up in the hospital after an episode with one of these nasty creatures. So be careful when collecting seashells and accidents can be avoided. |
By AnnieDawn
I take my wedge of twisted thoughts
And don't know what it means.
Then when I try to think it through,
It's never what it seems.
The loneliness within me screams
But no one else can hear.
I feel I'm stuck within my dreams
And nothing real is clear.
My thoughts keep racing wildly
Like a film runs off a reel.
My mind can't settle on one thing
So how then can I feel?
| Author Notes | These are emotions described to me by a family member who is bi-polar. |
By AnnieDawn
Tempting silver box.
Take a peek?
Shucks I can't pick locks.
| Author Notes | This poem originated from the humorous challenge between two of my grandchildren as to who might be the one to open the box first without knowing the combination. |
By AnnieDawn
Questions chosen
Rudimentary themed
Stimulating the mind to induce
Thought provoking
Ideas for answers
By AnnieDawn
The sandy road, it stretches on;
This path my feet have trod so long.
Alas the quiet brings no song.
And so my wish is for a bed.
A place to lay my fractured head
To gather pleasant thoughts instead.
Of brightly colored insect wings.
To hear the song a wood lark sings
And all the sounds that nature brings.
So as I walk this lonely road
My inner thoughts make light my load.
| Author Notes | This poem is for the assignment dated April 22,2014 |
By AnnieDawn
The Mighty Oak stands
Fast through countless seasons as
The years slowly pass
| Author Notes | Progress destroys so much of our beautiful trees, We should enjoy them while they are still here. |
By AnnieDawn
There are times that I bend with the cares of this world.
My grief and despair weigh me down.
I can't feel hope within anymore.
I have taken my eyes off the Crown.
My load seems too heavy. How long can I bear
The heartache, the suffering, and pain?
Life isn't worth living. The sunshine is gone.
My tears fall as I stand in the rain.
It is then that 'He' whispers so softly to me;
"Come hither my child, take My hand.
I will carry your burden just lean on Me.
Don't give up; I will help you to stand."
| Author Notes | We all have times when all seems hopeless. Faith and hope are retrievable if we accept the helping hand. |
By AnnieDawn
Children love to have
Cold, wet snowflakes land upon
Their pink, waiting tongues.
By AnnieDawn
He smiled oh so attractively
Then asked to later meet with me
My heart turned over oh what bliss
He said he wanted one sweet kiss
But now I sit here with a sigh
As days keep slowly passing by
I count how many days have gone
With not a word to cast hope on
The promised kiss still unfulfilled
And now perchance it ever will
Remain a yearned for hopeful whim
Never to be fulfilled by him
By AnnieDawn
oh harmful snake why
does your nature not let you
squeeze your charmers neck
By AnnieDawn
Toes in the wet sand
Avoid the red pinching crabs
Who own the whole beach
By AnnieDawn
Ferris Wheel, County Fair.
Spent my seven dollars there.
By AnnieDawn
"I'm late for work" our Annie said.
"I showered and I made my bed.
I washed the hair upon my head
And now I must do what I dread."
Her hair is straight; she cries "No Fair!"
Her sister got the curly hair
Sis calmly straightens it with care.
Sis hates her curls that cluster there.
So with a sigh and much chagrin
Ann plugs her curling iron in.
And hears a sizzle deep within.
It's smoking and it stinks like sin!
She waits until it sparks no more
Then quickly throws it out the door.
She cries and sits down on the floor.
Her curling iron will work no more.
Her self esteem is stuck on jerk.
She'll have to call in sick to work
And now the coffee will not perk!
Oh what a day to go berserk.
| Author Notes | This actually happened to the author and is a true story. |
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