PAD poems 19,20,21

Prompt for day 19
Write an angry poem



Angry

No, I am not angry
I am however

Annoyed
Nuts
Grumpy
Riled
Yielding not…

So get over it
and shut up.

Kellie M Shanley © 2009



Prompt for day 20
Write about rebirth


Rebirth of the tiny brown bird
A tiny brown bird, floating in water too deep,
is cold and ready to sleep.
Eyes closed tight, not a breath, not a sound,
solace, in the dark stillness, it found.

In those last moments, on the brink of death
a girl spots the bird floating…it must be dead.
She reaches in, the water to deep,
cups her hands around the body asleep,
gently lifts it from its watery grave,
and tries rubbing, rubbing the cold away,
then swaddles the diminishing life in a handful of fresh mown hay.

Sadness she feels for the tiny finch, alone and cold,
watching it collapse in the bedding of hay.
Placing it in the palm of her hand, she feels
its body twitch with eyes still closed,
not a breath she sees… its death exposed.
With warm hands, she holds it for just a while,
and spots a cross of white feathers, on its tiny brown neck,
She then lays it in the sun on the bedding of hay and
waits and prays for the magic of the rubbing and the sun to give way.

After a while the warmth of the sun and the gentle rubbing does bring,
the tiny brown bird to open its eyes again.
A few days later, her day is made
for in the light brown dust, of her walking pathway
the tiny brown bird, with feathers of the cross, is bathing away.
Glad is she, she’d taken the time,
when all life seemed gone, to lift it from its watery grave
giving it a chance to live a new day.


KMS © 2009


Prompt for day 21
Write a Haiku


The air crisp and cool.
Breathless-the air freezes still
Cold words suspended.

Kellie M Shanley (C) 2009

Poem 18

Yes I am a tad behind, but I'm still plugging

Prompt 18
Write a poem with interaction

Dancing with the Wind

I hold my breath and listen close
as the wind taps on my windowpane.
Sometimes it s a flutter
sometimes a murmur within a raging rain.

A whirling dance it’s wants from me,
in its beckoning call, but
fickle is the wind when asking for this dance
for it runs from me that I can’t catch it,
is it playing games of chance?

Changeable is the wind, first high, then low.
Confused of which way to go, I turn to walk away.
Afraid I’m saying no to the dance, it grasps my hand,
wraps it’s self around me and lifts me off the ground.
Then suddenly lets me go, leaving me to stumble all around.
.
Sometimes it plays with my affections,
touching me so light.
I reach out to take a hold,
again, it runs away in fright.

Though I do not understand
the ways the wind does blow
I love the wind and feel alone without it.
This feeling scares me so.

The wind will have to play its games,
if only for a while,
tapping at my windowpane, dancing like a child.
For I might say yes and take the chance
to dance this dance the winds do ask of me.
But should I say yes and stumble needlessly,
the wind must promise to catch me and in fright not flee.




Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Poem 17

Prompt for day 17
Write a poem starting with
All I want is....and fill in the blank.



All I want is

Time to see the world or the very least the places I want to see
Time to conquer my fears
Time to procrastinate and know that tomorrow will come
Time to do what I am supposed to do

All I want is to
Know that what I see is what I need to see
Know that I will conquer my fears
Know that I will not procrastinate, until tomorrow’s time
Know what it is, I am suppose to do

All I want is to
Do and see what I am expected to see
Do the things that will make me confront my fears
Do things today, before tomorrow has a chance to steal today’s time
Do exactly what I am meant to do

All I want is
Peace that I saw everything there was for me to see
Peace that my fears were conquered
Peace that I did not waste any gifts of life’s given time
Peace that I did all that I was suppose to do and be all that I could be

Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Prompt #15

Prompt #15 was to take a favorite poem,
Give it a new title, and write your own.
This is my stab at it.

One of my favorite poems by Walt Whitman

Beginners
By Walt Whitman
1819-1892

How they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,
How they inure to themselves as much as to any--what a paradox
appears their age,
How people respond to them, yet know them not,
How there is something relentless in their fate all times,
How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same
great purchase.




Unaltered
By Kellie M Shanley
© 2009

I appear, not all at once
But I am here
I appear again
Though not seen at first
I appear silent
Speaking volumes
I appear behind you
You cannot see
I appear along side of you
You feel me there
I appear
However, not how you think I should be
I appear weighty
Although I can fly
I appear before you
And you see

Days 13 &14 poems

Prompt 13
Write about a hobby

Beyond The Lens

What do I see beyond the lens
The past
A moment kept forever in time
The still of night
in its midnight blue beauty

What do I see beyond the lens
The story of hell on earth
through a one-dimensional picture
telling a powerful story
captured on still faces

What do I see beyond the lens
A smile cropped with sadness
Wheelchairs guided by angel’s wings
Wingless nocturnals in flight

What do I see beyond the lens
Love
Laughter
Life
Magnificent accomplishments in black and white
Great moments evermore

What do I see beyond the lens
Forever
Birth
Existence
Amusement
Grief
Death
Then and now

What do I see beyond the lens
Everything

Kellie M Shanley © 2009


Day 14 poem
#14 prompt
Write about love
This is an Etheree poem from 2007

Soul Intentions

Charm
Pleasure
Enchanting
Fascination
In this night of ours
Blushing— warm affection
Radiates within your face
The moons soft light—illuminates
Porcelain cheeks and ruby red lips
Ripe—ready for a kiss of divine love

My lips—pale pink rest upon yours lightly
Finding the soul of my intentions
Basking in desire of love as
I breath in your virgin breathe
Caressing your chin with
This love, more than lust
I stop desire
With purest
Love for
You

KMS © 2007

Poem #12

Prompt for day 12
So we decided...blank
Fill in the blank


So we decided to take a moment

For a moment we had glimpse
A glimpse of how things could be
We took a chance to see ourselves
with only you and me

With heaviness of when, for us
gone for one day then two
We saw how nice it would be
with only me and you

For a moment, we had glimpse
of how things could be, with
smiles and sharing of simple things and
comfortable laughter at similar ways

A moment in time
how big it seemed then
how small it seems now
For a moment, we had a glimpse
of how things could be
we had chance to see ourselves
with only you and me

Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Poem day #11

I am a little behind, but no fears I will catch up.
Prompt #11 write about an object.

The Struggle


There they are,
up in the tree
Struggling hard
to be free

Sparkling in the sunshine
they sway and dance,
trying to free themselves
from the branch

Where did they come from
Was it far away
Around the corner
Oh which way

I watch a struggle
which seems in vain
With every tug, the string
tightens and tightens
again

Suddenly a gust of breeze
and a single bounce down
takes the tension out of the string
keeping them bound.

Unravel-Unravel
with a burst of freedom
the balloons are free to fly again
a journey once more begins
traveling to who knows where
Someone will know
when they get there


Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Writing #9

The prompt for day #9
Write about a memory


The Room Where I Write

The room where I write is a sentimental room, on the south wall in the two-story farmhouse where I was born. It’s filled with papers of scribbled ambiguous ideas and though the papers would appear to be carelessly tossed upon my blue carpet, they are not.
Books and a collection of Breyer horses, many from my childhood, surround me. The old and new together, blanket my soul, as do the memories made in this room, where imaginary friends came to play and grand ideas were born.
Out side, my window I watch a woodpecker tap his red headed rhythm upon the suet of the birdfeeder. The horses, heads steadfast to the ground, munch lazily in their own equine tempo, over the carpet of green. Their tails, with no need to brush away flies, are quiet as winter’s last breath cools the air at the gateways of the valley where this old white farmhouse sits, quaint and composed.
The Room Where I Write is snug inside and my room, the ‘write’ room, is a room where imaginary friends still come to play and grand ideas are born.

Kellie M. Shanley © 2009

Poem a day #8

The prompt for poem 8 was
Write about a daily routine task
This was tough, because my whole day is
one continuous task.
It took me a while,but this is what I came up with.
I've decided it needs to set for a while and I will tweak later
I need to move on to 9 & 10 prompts.
Writing Wishes from Kellie

Part of a Day
I wake and rub my eyes
Look at the clock,
3:30 AM, oh my
Should I get up
or laze a while
My mind starts buzzing
from this days beguiling smile

I crawl out of bed and pet the dogs
No, I’ve shove them aside
and say, “Come on girls, get up
move those sleepy paws

I put on the coffee
it brews in the pot
I look out the window, wonder
a coat or not
The thermostat outside
says it’s cold out there
I decide on a coat to wear

Its 3:45, and still dark outside
I slide on my boots, and the three of us
The dogs and I, walk to the barn
I wonder as I slide the door open wide
will everything be all right once I enter inside
With horses, there could be a surprise

I feed, water, and give them a pat
Go back in the house
Apply makeup and do this and that
All done after a shower, which is must
Menopause makes the nighttime thermostat go up

It’s time for that morning
first cup of coffee brew
waiting hot in the pot
I take a sip then two

I turn on my computer
What should I write for today
A poem, a short story, maybe an essay
Jot an email, a letter, or funny little stuff
Maybe pay bills, update my blog
Or write poetry fluff
Then again maybe nothing but rambling mush

I write what I want
Then get on with my day
There is much to do
I make the bed
No more delays

Maybe I’ll rake the lawn
Or mow if the snow does leave
I want to till and plant
But the snow and cold insists take heed

There are orders to do
For the shop’s supply
Stalls to clean and to bed with pine
The barn floor needs a sweep
From mornings, hay carried down the line

I brush away winter hair
from the dogs, horses and cats
While cleaning the stalls
an Ah Ha comes at last
I write it down so I don’t forget it this time
I set it aside for tomorrows morning rise

Its almost 4 PM
where do the days go
It’s time to feed the horses once more I know
That makes three times for today
one more to go and tomorrow the same

Now at 5:30 time to close the doors of the shop
no wait, a customer has decided to stop
Its 6:15, supper awaits
The dogs are waging their tails
please give me food, my stomach aches

I watch the news and eat dinner too
Then take the dogs for romp
visit the horses again and watch them chomp
thinking, maybe I’ll take one for a ride
the days are getting longer
this makes me happy inside

The horses perk their ears
They like this idea of mine
Instead, I take my bike for a ride

The dogs stare out the window,
Watching me peddle my butt
they want to be going to run in the muck
The horses don’t care a ride was not planned
a pile of hay still in front of them stands

It’s 9 pm, maybe some TV I’ll watch
No, the peepers are peeping
The stars are bright
I go outside to watch the night

The dippers are there
as are Venus and Mars
My breath lingers, on the still cold air
Deep I breathe, in and out
clearing my soul, thoughts and cares
Why would anyone watch TV
when this particular show is free

I stretch and yawn, my back aches a little
Unloading a truckload of grain and bedding
will do that I know to a woman not twenty
but likes to think she is at fifty um, not telling

It’s 9:30
time to put the horses to bed
I throw them hay, check water twice
scratch their necks, kiss their noses
pat their heads, hug their necks
and turn out the lights

Me and the dogs
walk back to the house
Stopping for a moment
to be part of the dark
The peepers are loud
The coyotes howl
Calling each other, they’re on the prowl
I call the dogs “get back here you two
No hunting coyotes you silly fools
Its time for bed so let’s call it a night”


I check the clock
Its 10:15,
I relax in my chair,
thinking now, I’ll watch some TV
Maybe the news to see what I see

The TV is talking
my eyes start to droop
I nod off a bit
Go to bed you goof

I wake and rub my eyes
look at the clock
Its 3:30 AM, Oh My
Should I get up
or laze a while
My mind starts buzzing
from this day’s beguiling smile


© Kellie M Shanley 2009

Day 7 poem

Day 7
Prompt one
Write about something clean
Prompt two
Write about something dirty
We don't have to do both prompts but
I think I will give writing about something dirty a try later.

Soap Suds in the Shower

S…Squeaky clean is how it’ll make you
O…Olive oil, oatmeal soap is not to eat
A…Alkali, essential oils,
P….Potassium make it sweet

S….Suds it, spike it to make that gorgeous
U…Up do —shower —hair hive, like
D…Dippity Do did— remember that
S….Sorry if you never tried the Soap-Do thing

I….It was like wearing today’s bling
N…Now— nip it, tuck it

T…Top it and pile your soap hair
H…High on your head, oh wait
E…Earrings now for a finished look

S…Slather that soap and make it thick
H…Hang the foam low
O…Over the lobe is the trick
W…Wear them dangling, wear them flat
E…Enters queen of Sheba
R…Rinse off, enough of that.


© Kellie M Shanley 2009

Day 6 poem

Prompt for Day 6
Write about something missing

Mary Jane’s Fire

Sitting in front of the fire place glass
There in the flames,
burns her present, future and past

At first the flames peak, then dwindle low,
they mimic her life with their fiery glow.

Each flicker conveys the life she did lead.
First bright
a new life begun,
then steady,
as if in the middle of things.

The flames weaken, with the threat of burning out,
she takes the upper hand and stirs them about
creating a breath of fresh air in the cinders once more
the flames anew reach high and soar

Caring, warmth and comfort,
help them burn bright for a long while,
not possible without the stirring and mending’s of time

Once more, time ticks away
as she watches, the ashes diminish in glow
waiting to be stirred,
or this time,
will she let them go

Mary Jane ponders the scene
through the fire place glass,
within the burning ashes
she sees her life’s
present, future and past.

With resemblance to life’s motivations
she chooses again to stir them around,
and the ashes blaze with new life found
keeping the blaze of her life
present, future and past,
burning in the flames
as she looks through the glass.

© Kellie M. Shanley revised 2009

School house with a couple changes...already

See which version you like best? I did a little more cutting


School House

Walking past where the schoolhouse once lived
I stare in the milieu behind the maple trees,
my imagination carries me to
visions of the small structure
calm, sitting nestled in the woods, where
trees offer shelter—
Mother Nature cradling one of her own
with knotty arms wrapped around its wooden frame
singing her song to the schoolhouse charm
The Schoolhouse quiet
listens

My visions… skip me to children assembled in
the schoolhouse with one room.
Wood desks five, ten or more lined in a row
Young girls in petticoats, pigtails, laced shoes,
open books, ready to learn

Boys growing in coveralls, finished with chores
push, shove and play strong man games
Some in bare feet, giggle lacking shame.
Their only care on this day
is their dreams
Dreams of braids
neatly plaited, down little girls backs
Lying soft— calling—tempting boys’ desires
of an ink well rendezvous.
Mischievously they anticipate perfectly tinted curls

Miss Schoolmarm at the chalkboard
in a long fitted dress, hair in a bun
laughs quietly at the dirty faces to learn
She’s seen them so many times
inkwell phantoms
dancing with the boys

“No ink well for you today,” she says,
“No ink well for you.”
They awe shucks and open their books.
Tomorrow, they ponder… will be another day

The school will remain nestled in the woods
Boys’ desire will tempt
While girls braids wait
All cradled in woody arms
one of Mother Nature’s own
swaying in a lullaby of
The Schoolhouse charm


Kellie M Shanley © 2009

Day 5 poem

Prompt for #5 poem
Write about a Landmark
This is a poem I wrote in 2007
very little revison done...

School House

Walking past where the school house once lived
I stare in the milieu behind the maple trees,
My imagination carries me to
Visions of the small structure
Calm, sitting nestled in the woods, where
Trees offer shelter—
Mother Nature cradling one of her own
With knotty arms wrapped around its wooden frame
Singing her song to the school house charm
The schoolhouse quiet
Listens

My visions… skip me to children assembled in
The school house with one room,
Wood desks five, ten or more lined in a row
Young girls in petticoats, pigtails, laced shoes and
Open books, ready to learn

Boys wearing coveralls, finished with chores
Push, shove and play strong man games
Some in bare feet, they giggle lacking shame.
Their only care on this day
Is their dreams
Dreams of braids
Neatly plaited, down little girls backs
Lying soft— calling—tempting boys’ desires
Of an ink well rendezvous.
Mischievously they anticipate perfectly tinted curls

Miss schoolmarm at the chalkboard
In a long fitted dress, hair in a bun
Laughs quietly at the dirty faces to learn
She’s seen them so many times
Inkwell phantoms
Dancing with the boys

“No ink well for you today,” she says,
“No ink well for you.”
They awe shucks and open their books.
Tomorrow, they ponder… will be another day

The school will remain nestled in the woods
Boys’ desire will tempt
While girls braids wait
All cradled in woody arms
one of Mother Nature’s own
Swaying in a lullaby of The Schoolhouse charm


Kellie M Shanley © 2007 revised 2009

Poem a day # 4

The prompt for day 4
(I know...I'm a little behind I'll catch up!)
Write about an animal


Ode to the Hippocampus

Suspended in waters below
It floats
amidst sea grass or coral reefs
Its home

The smallest a royal presence, merely an inch long
Another at twelve inches is a ‘horse’ of a different breed

Though not a chameleon
with colors of
fluorescent and neon preservation
It
hides within the mangroves many feet below

A diver’s delight
thirty-three species
of phenomenon to admire
and
They…
live a monogamous life
not expected in their genre

He bares the young
She’s always there

Equipped with
dorsal and pectorals fins
They
a bony fish
make us wonder
how can that be
as we watch the
marvelous
mysterious
beautiful
often hard to find
enchanting
endangered
Seahorses of the sea

© Kellie M. Shanley 2009



Hippocampus: Greek word meaning seahorse
Hippocampus also part of the brain named after the seahorse because of its shape.

Poem a day # 3

Prompt for day 3
Start with, “the problem with Blank” fill in the blank

Paint

The problem with paint

Primer, latex, oil, base
Kitchen, bath, bedroom, wait
Satin, eggshell, gloss, matte
One, two, three coats apply
Twenty, thirty, forty minutes dry
Massage temple, relieve ache

Wood, drywall, metal, glass
Peel, sand, prime, tape
Roller, pad, sponge, brush
Ladder, stool, drop cloth, hat
Too many choices —stop

Behr, Sherman, Ace or that
Interior, exterior, ceiling, wall
Frown, idea, smile, at last
Hammock, book, iced tea, relax

(c) Kellie M Shanley 2009

April Challenge

Well Spring is here and what better way to start celebrating than taking a challenge?
I've decided to do the Writers Digest, April's Poem A Day Challenge.
Will I be able to do it. Yes. If I truly commit myself and do not let my self slack.
So here are my first two poems,
Be back soon. Writing Wishes from Kellie


Last little girl ride

The 1938 Ford, metallic blue
seats only for two
takes us on
Our
last little girl ride

Me in my wedding dress
of satin and lace
He in his tux,
a somber look on his face

My Dad my Hero,
always was…and will be

What words should I say so he will understand
He —was the First hero,
my little girl eyes did see
and here on my wedding day
before I wed
my Hero is beside me

Maybe they’ll be no words needed
to speak
because it’s
We
sitting in Thirty-Eight’s seats
My tuxedoed Hero …
will He cry

and Me
in my wedding dress…
sigh
His
little girl tucked inside
glad we’re together for
Our
last little girl ride.


© KMS 2007




Day 2

Moonrise

I remember much
I remember nothing
Trying… I watch the moonrise
Almost dark
Light echoes behind the evergreen trees
Telling
Bigger, bigger, brighter
I remember once
A moment like this before
When
I remember nothing

Moonrise
Above the trees
A memory rising like the moon
A glimmer
Was it then
Is it now
I remember much
I remember nothing
I remember when
I remember now

© Kellie M Shanley 2009