Poems 24 through 30! Did it! Thanks for joining me.

Poem # 30

I will not give up,

I will not lean.

I will not forget,

I will not regret.

I will not let

love crack.

Poem # 29

My hands reach and touch your words that reach across and tell me yes.

Poem #28

If I could paint,

I would paint you.

Poem # 27

Lasagna slips through my lips all

hot and creamy as the cheesy, saucy, luscious

layers linger and lets me enjoy…passion!

Poem # 26

The geese fly over going north or south

and I wait as they call.

I think they are calling me to join them,

so I wait and wonder what it’s like to fly.

I look up and watch as they form their triangle as they sing in unison;

“Come one, come all, it is so much fun up here.”

I wish I could accommodate.

I wish I could levitate.

I want to join in on the fun.

Someday, someday I will run,

and leap, and take flight.

Now that will be a sight.

Poem # 25

My guitar is split on the side but it still sounds like honey.

I strum and it resonates life back…

my heart becomes full of feeling evoking a sound from deep within and

I sing and sing.

The strings stay with me and accompany me to heaven.

Poem # 24

Obsession, compression, depression, impression, oppression, repression, succession, discussion, repercussion, expression, procession, aggression, confession, bull session, concession, digression, accession, possession, cession, precession, secession, transgression, discretion, suppression, progression,profession,intercession, retrogression.

Poem # 23

Poem # 23

                         Attempt at a Ghazal

What do you think you are doing, Maryanna?

Wanting something you can’t have?

Where will she go, Maryanna?

Does she know, Maryanna?

Writing, working, studying, learning, hopeful is Maryanna.

Will everything be alright, Maryanna?

She takes risks, Maryanna,

For the good hopefully, Maryanna.

Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel is Maryanna,

 Knowing, seeing, feeling is Maryanna.

Here are Poems 21 and 22. Lets see if I can play catch up and get in 8 more by end of the last day today.

Poem # 21

All This Talk

All this talk about tax

and middle class

while I think about

planting seeds.

I plant this seed and

it will sprout without

much interference

on my part.

I want to sow the seed of

forgiveness

love

compassion.

What will it yield?

All this talk about

gas prices

oil companies

and politics.

While I think about

paying bills

cleaning house

cooking meals.

I want to pay tribute

to my parents

who worked hard

to get me here;

I want to clean up

the environment

of pollutions

and toxic waste.

I want to cook up

a new idea for ending war.

Does any of that help?

Can we talk?

Poem #22

Why do robins walk across the street when they can fly?
             Why do I stop to let them cross?
              I want to fly, they want to walk.
                 If I sing, will they talk?
          Into my home, should I let them live,
            cook, clean and sleep in my bed?
     Should I build a nest high in the apple tree,
              for me and my whole family?                 
      Imagine the gossip among the red red robins.
                 Would they gather for tea
                        under the tree
              and look up pointing, look, see?
                  Will they start a petition to
                         force me out?
                 Will they form a picket line
                           and shout?
                               No;
                         they will walk,
                           I will wait,
                         ‘til they cross
                     and I will fly, fly, fly.

Here's poem # 20. Ten more days to go in the month of April and 10 more poems to come hopefully.

Poem # 20

The dark night of the soul wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I didn’t know I would be laughing, crying, aching,

celebrating.

Maybe I think too deep.

Maybe I love too much.

Maybe I need to let go of the maybes.

I think too deep and

yes, I love too much.

How else am I going to be me?

You can take me, leave me, forgive me, love me and

I will always love.

I will always be there.

I will always.

I will

Poems 18 and 19! Poem 19 is a special tribute to our daughter Tama.

Poem # 19

I was going to write something amazing today, something that could win a prize for the best poem ever written. But I’m stumped. I think of you, and I see me. In your words, humor, heart. They call it a gift, a blessing, a miracle. I call it home. You came and I came home. That’s it. You did that. And because of that, I will never be alone. And know this deeply in your heart, I will always be there with you, wherever you go in your life, in the music, in the trees, in all the faces that you see. Thank you for choosing us. It is the best birth present we ever got.

Happy 19^th Birthday Tama

Love Mom and Dad

Poem # 18

Everything is gonna be alright

tonight.

Tomorrow is a different story.

I’ll wake up covered in man-made guilt.

Torn between two decisions,

looks like I need to be strong.

What’s it gonna take?

I don’t know.

Should I have pancake

 and eggs or

a healthy protein shake?

Poem 17. Bear with me folks...

Poem # 17

So, if I blah, blah, blah,

then I can blah, blah, blah.

But if you blah, blah, blah,

I won’t blah, blah, blah.

I have to blah, blah, blah,

If I am going to blah, blah, blah.

That’s why we need to blah, blah, blah,

So we can blah, blah, blah.

Let’s blah, blah, blah,

Holding hands and blah, blah, blah together.

Poem #16 Kiddo's.

Poem #16

I am not a reason

I am not a mistake

I am not an excuse

I am not an obligation

I am not an imposition

I am not a lie

I am not a blank canvas

I am not a slave

I am not worthless

I am not a dreamer

I am the dream!

Poem number 15 and going strong..think this one could be a song.

Poem # 15

Take me home tonight

and promise to hold me

tight.

Keep me in your sight

fight

for me,

make it right for me.

Whisper soft and tell me

everything is gonna be

alright for me.

For you are right for me.

So very right, you see?

We are right, so take me

home tonight!

Poem number 14 Folks!

Poem # 14

Poems are secrets told in rhyme.

Maybe you don’t like them all the time.

But they hold truths, and lies, and bias and freedom;

And no one tells you, you are wrong.

So write what you like, write what you may,

I won’t judge or take your truth away.

Play on words, maybe or not;

But know this and make it something never to be forgot;

Poems are secrets told in rhyme.

Here come poems 12 and 13!

Poem # 13

Spiraling, swerving, crashing, exposing, seeing, hiding, begging, laughing, walking, stepping on

rotting branches that crack and smash into the muddy terrain until they

disappear and become part of the whole, whole, whole.

Here in this muddy terrain we are! Whole! I don’t recognize this place, your face,

 but I know what’s inside. Strange, strange, strange!

Strange how I want to begin again and eat the food that melts into me after much chewing.  

Strange how I want to walk the roads until they end. Strange how I want to sing the songs that

emerge from the street and save the people.

Strange here in this whole!

Poem # 12

I’ll be seein’ you down the road;

I promise, no kiddin’.

I’m comin’.

Don’t see no reason

standin’ in my way.

I’ll be seein you

down the road.

I don’t care if a storm comes a blowin’;

not scared if the earth cracks in two;

I’ll be seeing you, soon…

down the road.

I’ll be seein you down the road;

I promise, no kiddin’

I’m comin’.

I’ll be seein you

down the road.

Poems 10 and 11 Continuing the Challenge to write 30 poems in 30 days of April

Poem # 10

Black Heart

It was like performing open heart surgery,

I dug the black heart shaped rock from the frozen earth.

It was my miracle.

Nature granted me a glimpse into her magic.

In that moment, I was suspended.

In that moment, I was grateful.

In that moment, I was happy.

I held it in my hand and gazed.

I passed it on.

Poem  # 11

The Bedroom

I want to paint these

 walls worn with time,

 anger, love…

 marked, cobwebs crowning glory

...smudges, scrapes, black, red, nicks, dents,

 come together celebrating

 where the chair meets the corner.

Dreams swirl torment, lust, elation…

beckoning worlds pull, yank at

the soul.

Go away

 ancestor;

 back from where you came…

this soul is not ready…to leave…quite yet!

Poem # 9 from Maryanna's challenge of writing 30 poems in 30 days in the month of April. This one took me longer than the others.

Poem # 9 From Maryanna's challenge of writing 30 poems in 30 days in the month of April. This one took me longer than the others.

Poem # 9

My dreams are keeping me awake;
I hope they never stop!

Life in Words with Maryanna: Poem # 8 for tomorrow April 8th - Maryanna's chall...

Life in Words with Maryanna: Poem # 8 for tomorrow April 8th - Maryanna's chall...: Poem # 8 Esther Esther weaved a basket for the children who watched. Her nimble fingers took care to intertwine the straw. Each one told a s...

Poem # 8 for tomorrow April 8th - Maryanna's challenge keeps on going.

Poem # 8

Esther

Esther weaved a basket

for the children who watched.

Her nimble fingers took care

to intertwine the straw.

Each one told a story;

each one held a dream.

Esther tilled the soil,

planted the seeds deep

in the ground.

She watched, waited

and nurtured their growth.

Esther  gazed upon the blossoms

and reveled in their joy.

One by one they opened

new life, new hope.

Esther filled the basket.

Poem # 7 Day 7 of the 30 Poems in 30 days of April Challenge

Poem # 7

Thinking…thinking…too much thinking.

From where does it come?

Maybe some

seed

of illusion?

Less and less thinking

and more doing?

More doing and less doing?

Less doing and more being?

More being;

more and more being.

Less being, less being, less being.

Being…being…all about being!

or

more

about

BE?

.....Day 6 of 30 poems in 30 days of April...here comes poem #6....

Poem # 6

I am old.

The beauty of  that excuse gets you off the hook for life’s dilemma when it takes the soul for a test drive through the ragged road of recovery only to find a messy, mixed up place in the gut wanting to free itself of dogmatic dishonesties that crippled your actions and made you lose yourself to other’s beliefs and brought you to your knees in apologetic whispers too difficult to admit that you were trapped within your own creation until finally you were brave enough to admit defeat and let go of all unnecessary expectations put upon you by your ancestors. You are Old! Torn up inside with confused emotions of whys or why nots, wheres, hows and whens? Why not revel in the fact that you made it this far without much injury even though your mind and body have been ripped from all good society and exposed to the hate, love, light, dark, bliss, angst, and curdling screams of the young begging to be shown the way. Praise yourself for coming back to the real truth that you were made by God. You were made in the image of Light, Light, Light. You’ve come back to the light. You are yourself!!!

Day 5 with Poem # 5 Maryanna keeps the challenge alive! 30 Poems is 30 days of April

Poem # 5

Slam the GM

Dontcha be makin no gm food.

Ya upta no good.

It’s money in ya pocket,

don’t havta know rocket

science.                                          

Dontcha be givin me no gm food.

Would ja eat it ya self?

Leave it on da shelf?                             

Dontcha be feedin me no gm food

Dare are fishes in da corn,

and da corn in da cow,

and da cow in da burga,

and da burga in you.

Watcha gonna do wit dat gm food?

Give it to da poo-ah?

Wha’, give it to da kids?

Watcha gonna do wit dat gm food?

I’ll tell ya watcha do wit dat gm food!

Maryanna's Challenge keeps going - Poem # 4 30 Poems in 30 Days

Poem # 4

A Pantoum of Sorts

The sheer curtain lazily lifts and swells with lilac breezes,

reaching, calling, reminding.

So I rest and enjoy the calling,

the room and the overstuffed comfy chair.

As the breeze wafts my way, I breathe

and let it take me.

I breathe and let it take me

until I become one with it.

Until I become one with it,

I wait and close my eyes.

I wait and close my eyes

as the breeze wafts my way.

The sheer curtain lazily lifts and swells with lilac breezes,

as my breath lifts and swells in time.

As my breath lifts and swells in time,

I rest and enjoy the calling.

I rest and enjoy the calling,

in the room with the overstuffed comfy chair;

In the room with the overstuffed comfy chair;

In the room with the overstuffed comfy chair.

In the room…

overstuffed comfy chair…

my breath…

falls…

I rest…

and enjoy!

Maryanna's Challenge continuing 30 Poems in 30 Days in April Poem # 3

Here is poem # 3. This was hard to write but glad I did. For me personal but potent.

For Emil

You are long gone,

maybe re-born

but I still wonder

what went wrong.

Divorce is such an ugly word

and doesn’t fit the feeling.

What about we were done,

finished with our project of

learning how to co-exist?

What about we learned so much

from each other and are better for it?

What about, what about, what about?

I still think of you and wish I was brave

enough to admit I made mistakes!

I made them alright, I made them and let them flourish.

What a fool I was, what a fool I am!

But thank you anyway for trying.

I’m sorry if it wasn’t my best work.

I guess I was trying, trying, trying too hard.

Maybe that was your mistake

for letting me get away with it.

Ha, Ha, so you’re not perfect either.

Hey, what if I forgive you if you forgive me?

Emil?

Maryanna's Challenge - Write 30 poems in 30 days in the Month of April

Here are the first two poems. They may not be the number one best poems you ever read but they are poems. Wish me luck with the rest of the month.

Poem #1  Pies

Pies, pies, and more pies.

Flours sifted, strained;

strained shaken.

Butter folded;

but you folded;

gave in to the deception.

Knead, need flowers;

knead, need, knead.

Rolling, pushing, and pulling;

don’t knead too much, didn’t need that much.

Laying it out,

all on the line.

Cut the dough in half,

and separate the two, one here, and one there.

What an odd pairing, paring knife in hand, slice the apples not too thick and lay one out.

Lay one out, fill with fruit, top with sugar, butter, and sprinkle the cinnamon.

Place the other on top hugging the edges together and hope that it works out.

Bake until golden and pray it doesn’t leak, drip, spatter across your whole life.

Let it cool down, cool down, calm down; it will be alright.

Everything works out for the best, it works out,

out of your hands now.

Wait for a while until you taste, don’t want to get burned, not again.

Wait, wait, and wait;

There are plenty of freaking pies.

Poem # 2

Hands

Hands do, feel, touch, connect, love, knead, pound, grab, throw, catch, wave, paddle, scratch, slap, clap, point, let go, beckon, halt, tear down, build up, and heal.

Hands do it all!

Pie Lady brings a fresh slice of life to South Eastern Iowa.

Who doesn't love pie? Would you travel miles for a slice of that homemade, fresh, sweetly tart fruit, and that scrumptious crispy buttery crust? My husband and I did after we heard on NPR radio about the "Pie Lady" who bought the Gothic house in Eldon Iowa. Ok, maybe it wasn't that many miles but we were on our way home from the Social Security office in Ottumwa to Fairfield and Tim reminded me about the "Pie Lady". We were kind of in a hurry to get back home to our jobs, but had a little time to spare.

I responed by saying why don't we go and get some of that pie. We were hungry anyway.

To our surprise, we discovered a museum dedicated to Grant Wood's famous painting of the stern couple standing in front of the famous American Gothic house. A pleasant young lady named Holly, the director of the museum, came to greet us and enthusiastically showed us around and led us down the path of the artist's life and paintings from Europe to Iowa.

We asked about the "Pie Lady" and if there was any pie to be had. She told us that Beth Howard only made them in the summer beginning Memorial Day weekend and throughout. Yes, we were disappointed but she added, if we came on Saturday, Beth was going to be there at the museum launching her book "Making Piece, a Memoir of Love, Loss, and Pie."

We left the museum still hungry for pie and  a curious "need" to meet this young woman who was the pie baker to the stars, lived all over the world and finally came back to her roots to live in Iowa and bake pie. As we were getting to our car, we saw someone on the lawn playing with her dogs and talking on a cell phone. Her back was to us. My husband and I commented to each other; "that must be her." We didn't feel to disturb, but felt a nice energy around her. We decided to leave and knew we would be back on Saturday.

Of course we went and not only was there pie and, oh my goodness, lovely rows of crispy, fruity, splendor, but a vivacious friendly open young woman telling her story, of her love and heartbreaking loss, her process of recovery, and her conviction that the world trully needs more pie. It's all in her book which we bought and can't wait to read.  She believes we need to get out more, knead the dough with nothing but our own hands, get into the dough, and build those upper biceps and triceps. In other words, get in touch with ourselves and the life lessons the simple act of baking pie quietly teaches.

We bought her book and I am now reading it. Already I can't put it down. Looking forward to going back for more pie and good conversation come this summer.