A Poet in Your Pocket

Part of keeping on keeping on is finding constructive ways to spend my time.  I have been able to read some very interesting books because my son brought some "loaner" books up to me to enjoy this summer.  The one I am reading right now is John Adams by David McCullough. 

Something John Adams  wrote to his son,John Quincy, while he was away at University caught my attention.  He was admonishing John Quincy to keep on with his studies while he had the opportunity and to not forget that the Arts were an important part of a well balanced life also.  This is part of what he wrote:  "You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket.  You will never have an idle hour."

I think writing poetry is something that comes from deep within you.  At a very young age I came up with a poem while I was being held up to a window so that I could see outside.  It was a two line poem when I was just beginning to talk.  I am not inclined to write it here as it had a word in it which is rather crude.  I cannot imagine that I was taught to say such things as we were brought up in a strict home where crude language was not tolerated.  But the incident tells me that you either have an inclination for writing poetry or you do not.

Many years later I asked my older sister, who was most likely the one who was holding me up to the window, if I really said that.  She assured me that indeed I did!  So, I must accept that I did, and try to put a good spin on it!!

Growing up I was not formally introduced to poetry and had never given a thought to composing it, nor was I interested in reading it.  I will say that I loved the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson.  I was intrigued with "A birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill, cocked his shining eye and said, "ain't you shamed you sleepy head?"  I think I liked the saucy little bird.  It was only when I joined the Northeast Georgia Writers Group a few years ago that I first attempted to write a poem.  Each year this group of writers, some published, some not, have an annual contest.  On the list of categories for entries was poetry.  It was then that I decided to try this form of writing.

I decided to do a Limerick.  In fact I did four, which all had the theme of misadventure bound within them.  I was very surprised when I won first place for these silly poems.  This was like encouraging an idiot to keep on being an idiot!  So, I have kept on being an idiot and loved doing it.

Since that one bit of encouragement I have branched out and find that writing poetry is a rather fun thing to do.  Not everyone will like what I write, but that is expected and acceptable to me.  I do it for my own enjoyment.  So, with that in mind, I will share some poems I have written, some light hearted, some thoughtful, but they all sprang from within me at different times.

Rain

I awakened to thunder
At first I thought it nature's blunder
I put my feet upon the floor
And quickly opened up the door
Then I saw that all was wet
And knew I did not need to get
My hose and outside shoes
Just go back for another snooze

Balloons

Light, airy, knock them up, send them flying
Find the next one, hit it too, keep the game going
It is only play, we celebrate the birthday, the day, the family
We laugh with carefree abandon,
Tomorrow can wait, today there is joy,
Hugs, kisses,hopes fulfilled,
No need to travel further than this day, this time, this moment

I Can Only Imagine

I can only imagine how it would be
If all I ever could hope to see
Was white upon white
Even at night
Nothing in sight that was colorful, bright
No tulips or roses, daisies or violets blue
Or any other vibrant hue
Or missing the joy of seeking and seeing,
What greenery comes creeping up through
Brown earth and reaching toward sky

Happy reading to you all, whether it is poetry or prose.