Tag Archive | poetry

My good intentions and lazy kids.

 

imageI awoke this morning ready for war, ready to kick some ass. I was going to stomp through this day, defeating everything needing to be defeated. I was going to be all the Spartans rolled into one fearsome beast of a stay-at-home mom, tearing across the landscape of my home. Anything standing in my path would be a-nni-hil-at-ed.

To ready for battle I sipped a cup of hot, strength nectar and then another. Caffeinated warriors are un-frickin-stoppable, right? I donned my armor, pinned back my hair, touched up with just a bit of war paint because, I don’t know, reasons, and . . . checked my blog.

I don’t know what happened after that. I had to attend to it. Facebook said I had notifications, so the obvious course of action was to rid myself of their distraction. There were a few things that needed to be liked. I accidentally clicked on the Pinterest icon, good thing too, there were several helpful tips that would certainly aid me in what I knew was going to be a full day of fighting.

By this time, the nectar of strength was wearing off so I had to recharge. While waiting for it to work the magic it always works, I fell into a sleep-like trance, the enemy must have poisoned me. By the time I looked at the clock I realized it was too late in the day to engage my foes with any chance of success.

Tomorrow is another day.

The laundry is piled high
the dishes are still soaking,
dust bunnies have invaded,
and I’m having trouble coping.

Something in the fridge
has really started stinking,
I thought the kids would clean it,
that’s what I get for thinking.

I asked them very nicely,
I said I’d give them money,
I guess they must have thought,
I was trying to be funny.

I suppose if they want to eat
or have clean clothes to wear,
they’ll get up off their butts,
and start to do their share.

I realize I’m delusional
But I kind of have to be,
because somewhere in this mess
I think I lost my sanity.

Crystal R.Cook

Gather them.

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Today became yesterday
before I knew it had passed,
I pray my sweet memories
of each moment will last.
When tomorrow arrives
I will cherish the day,
for I know that it too
will pass quickly away.
In the midst of a moment
precious memories are made,
we wrap them in love,
in hopes they won’t fade.
We gather them up,
tuck them safely away,
inside of our hearts
to look back on someday.

Crystal R. Cook

I remember writing this years ago, I recall just how I felt in the moment. I’d had a moment of heartbreaking realization, time is fleeting. I could not believe how fast my children had grown. They were still babies really, some days it feels like it was only yesterday.

Time really is fleeting.

Parade of Fools

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Conformity is not my norm,
I’ve no desire to fit in.
Societal expectations
are not my thing.
I try to understand
the hunger for acceptance
I see so many
willingly sacrificing
themselves upon alters
of false pretenses to obtain,
but the reasons I seek
elude me.
Shall I slit my own wrists
and allow my essence
to drain, pooling into
the festering puddle
of a fictitious existence?
Shall I don a mask
which doesn’t quite fit
to blend in with the faceless
crowds blindly following
an unseen leader?
A reclusive ghost, this non-existent
circus master serves as shepherd
to a lost flock, leading them
to slaughter with delusive promises,
empty platitudes and hollow hopes.
They follow without question,
shedding their individuality
like clothing too tattered to wear.
A fools parade,
I cannot follow.

Crystal R.Cook

One of the few . . .

This is one of the few child themed pieces I’ve written I actually considered a success. It brought smiles to the faces of my children, they giggled and squealed and wanted to hear it over and over again. They would squinch up their little eyes and try to dream of silly animals, they would fall asleep with a smile . . .

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Something very strange happened late last night,
I began to hear odd noises, so I turned on the light.
You won’t believe what I saw, you won’t believe what I heard,
I hardly believed it myself, it was simply too absurd!

There where mice in my slippers and hamsters in my bed.
Fluffy bunnies on my dresser and a kitten on my head!
There where roaring lions scratching at the door,
and I could see two crocodiles, but I’m certain there where more!

Birds where busy flying, some were singing too,
I could hear a barking dog and I think I heard a moo!
Turtles slowly traveled across my bedroom floor,
while slithering snakes slid quickly underneath the door!

There was a zebra in the corner who didn’t make a sound,
and a dozen little piggies where running all around!
A great big pretty parrot flew up above my head,
then some silly chipmunks started jumping on my bed!

The closet door was opened up, just a little bit,
it must have been too small for the hippopotamus to fit!
They all made so much noise it soon woke up my mom.
She ran into my room to see just what was wrong.

Her mouth fell right open and her eyes got very wide
when she opened up my door and saw the animals inside!
She called out for my father and my little brother came in too,
who jumped up and started shouting “Yay! We’ve got a zoo!”

An owl hooted softly and then an elephant appeared,
followed by some monkeys and an ape who had a beard!
The house was filled with animals, now what would we do?
Every single minute our zoo just grew and grew!

Mom was in the kitchen and so where all the goats,
Dad was in the closet getting bats out of our coats!
My little brother was in the bathroom filling up the sink
for a line of thirsty penguins waiting for a drink.

“Oh what will we do?” I heard my mother call.
“We really must act fast! There’s a giraffe out in the hall!”
It was completely up to me to rid us of this zoo,
I thought for just a moment, then I knew just what to do!

I politely asked the polar bear who was sleeping in my bed,
if he could find another place to rest his sleepy head.
I thought maybe if I fell asleep I could dream them all away.
The animals where fun, but I knew they couldn’t stay.

So I pulled up all my covers and shut my eyes real tight,
hoping that my dreams would make everything all right.
I slept for just a while and then thought I’d take a peek,
everything was calm and quiet, not a single peep.

The monkeys where all gone, and the elephant was too,
I guess it must have worked because there was no zoo.
No more birds where flying, and no more lions roaring.
The animals where gone and everything was boring.

But I knew how to fix it, I knew what to do!
I’d just go back to sleep and dream about our zoo.
So I pulled up all my covers and shut my eyes real tight,
and when they opened up, I saw such a funny sight!

There where hippos and rhinos, cows and kangaroos,
I couldn’t help shouting “Yay! We’ve got a zoo!”
It used to be hard to fall asleep most every night.
I would pull up all my covers and close my eyes real tight.

Then I’d toss and I’d turn and I’d never get my rest,
I’d think all sorts of things, I’d try my very best.
But now each and every night when I get into my bed,
I just close my eyes and dream of animals instead!

Crystal R.Cook 1994

26

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All bold companions,
delicately easing forward,
gathering heartsome ideas joyfully,
keeping light my noisome obduracy.
Perfecting quiet respite,
soothing the uproarious voices within.
Xenomorphic yet zoetic.

Crystal R. Cook

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Blessings

Poem

Strength can be so gentle
like soft rains from high above

Kindness can be tough
if it is not done out of love

Caring sometimes hurts
but it’s a chance worth taking

Pain sometimes is healing
it is wholeness in the making

Faith really can move mountains
if you truly do believe

Fear can hide reality
if it’s all you choose to see

A whisper can be heard
clearer than a shout

A touch with tender strength
can lift the chains of doubt

Love can change the world
if it’s pure and it is true

It’s a blessing and a gift
from God above to you

Crystal R. Cook 2004

A Lonely Young Poet

Gerard ter Borch

artwork – Gerard ter Borch

A lonely young poet
with sweet, red wine
silently welcomes the night
as she would an old friend.

Crimson drops spill
as her glass fills to the brim.

Slowly she sips the nectar
that will transform her world.

Eclectic visions flow forth,
the laureates tongue slurs
under intoxication’s haze.

Her voiceless verbose rambles on
as she empties the bottle.

The crystal goblet glistens
as the days new light
finds its way into her
darkened room.

The page on which she rests
is stained with the color
of tears and old wine.

When she awakes
the words will greet her,
bringing with them
a few, still
moments of peace.

It will last until
the daylight
once again
fades.

Crystal R. Cook ~ 2000

Stymied by rhyme?

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To rhyme or not to rhyme, if you choose to rhyme, you must rhyme well, for if you don’t it will sound like . . . Well, you understand don’t you?

From the Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce – RIME, n. Agreeing sounds in the terminals of verse, mostly bad. The verses themselves, as distinguished from prose, mostly dull. Usually (and wickedly) spelled “rhyme.”

When asked about English words without a rhyme, most will quite correctly say orange, purple and silver. There are actually many words in the English language lacking a partner in perfect rhyme.

If it’s true rhyme you’re looking for, you may want to steer clear of the words: anything, January, stubborn, apricot, dictionary and xylophone. Good luck with chaos, angry, hostage, rhythm, shadow, circus, crayon and glimpsed. Angst and empty, depth and width will be tough to rhyme, just like glimpsed and else and diamond and chocolate. Penguin and galaxy do not have any true rhymes, nor does elbow or engine, anxious or monster.

A perfect rhyme, sometimes referred to as true rhyme or full rhyme, is defined by the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language as; a rhyme in which the final accented vowel and all succeeding consonants or syllables are identical, while the preceding consonants are different, for example, great, late; rider, beside her; dutiful, beautiful.

Pure rhyme can be broken down even further. Words such as dog and log are single pure rhymes. Silly and willy would hence be referred to as double pure rhymes. An example of a triple pure rhyme would be mystery and history.

The longer the word, the harder it will be to find a perfect rhyme, this doesn’t mean they cannot be used in the context of rhyme however. Para-rhymes are defined as a partial or imperfect rhyme, often using assonance or consonance only, as in dry and died or grown and moon. This is also called half rhyme, near rhyme, oblique rhyme, slant rhyme or forced rhyme. This refers to words that do not completely rhyme, but use like sound to form the desired effect. A common example is the word discombobulate, to create a fluid sounding rhyme, three syllables must be utilized, populate would work well as a half rhyme in this instance. Hill and hell or mystery and mastery are examples of para-rhyme.

Masculine rhyme, or monosyllabic rhyme, is among the most common; this technique stresses the final syllable of each word, as in sublime and rhyme, or went and sent. Feminine rhyme differs in that the stress is on two or more syllables such as pleasure and treasure or fountain and mountain. Identical rhyme is simply using the same word twice.

There are various other examples of rhyme; eye rhyme is a rhyme consisting of words, such as lint and pint or love and move with similar spellings, but different sounds. Rich rhyme is a word rhymed with its homonym such as blue with blew, guest with guessed.

Scarce rhymes are words with limited rhyming alternatives like wisp and lisp, motionless and oceanless. Wrenched rhyme is the rhyming of a stressed syllable with an unstressed syllable as in words like lady and bee or bent and firmament.

Internal and external multi-syllable rhymes utilize the rhyming of more than one word, in this example, bleak and seek are internal rhymes; words within the body of the stanza, while night and light are external rhymes and fall at the end of a line.

So she found him
in the bleak of night,
lost on his quest
to seek the light.

Assonance rhyme is the matching of the vowel sounds, feast and feed, fever and feature. In syllable rhyme, the last syllable in each word is matching, pitter and patter, batter and matter. Consonance rhyme is matching the consonants in each word, her and dark. Alliteration is matching the beginning sounds of each word, often used in a series; perfect, poetic, personification.

Many people wrongly assume writing a rhymed poem is an easy task, until they actually try to write one, that is . . . There is much more to it than seeking words that rhyme, but we’ll discuss it at length some other time.

Crystal R. Cook

In a chamber of glass

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In a chamber
made of glass,
I sit for all to see.

Vulnerable.

Nothing
between me
and their
conclusions.

I’ve no immunity
in their court,
there is no aid
for my defense.

Condemned
without trial,
sentenced
without
judgement.

Eyes blinded
by ignorance
detest what they
don’t understand.

They know not
who I am yet
I sit, prisoner
of their stares,
behind this fragile
piece of glass.

If it should break
would my
world shatter?

The shards, will they
pierce my heart
or set me free?

My prison
is my sanctuary,
my sanctuary
is my prison.

I sometimes
long for escape,
though I revel
in my solitude.

When I close
my eyes
they disappear.

Perhaps I shall sleep,
in wakeful dream,
and they will have
nothing more to see.

Crystal R. Cook

 

Geez, melodramatic much?

I can be just a teeny melodramatic sometimes. Well, really only in the wee hours of the morning after I’ve tossed and turned all night. I am not one for drama. Those nights though, when the day has been rough and sleep refuses to visit, I take it out on the page. I am fairly certain if too many of my silent midnight ravings were to be set loose, I would quite possibly find myself locked securely away somewhere.

Thank goodness for the sanctuary and release of words . . . Usually, I find these bits of craziness tucked into my nightstand months after they were written, I generally have no idea what led me to write them. This one though, this was after a particularly rough IEP meeting, fighting the school, again, for the services my son required and deserved. I got them, but the battle wore me down. Everything was wearing me down.

I always feel better after I spill my lunacy upon a page, the therapeutic power of the pen is magical.

Things
in my mind
are not
fit to be
thought.

Aberrations
of normalcy,
detached
from
reality,
if there
is indeed
such a
thing.

Purging
and
pouring
into the
abyss of
what used
to be.

Filling
to the brim
with bile.

The bane
of simple
existence
too much a
burden upon
battered and
bruised
shoulders that
have carried
more than
their share
of suffering
never meant
for them.

Bones crush,
hearts break,
spirits begin
to cry out
for mercy
that will
never come.

Their thirst will
never be
quenched,
hunger will
never be
quelled,
not even
when there
is nothing
left of me
to feed upon.

Darkness
will cloak
me in
the fear
I no longer
have strength
to fight,
I no longer
care to fight.

Respite and
retreat
are what I
long for now.

No more
battle,
no more
victory,
no more
defeat.

Leave me
to my misery
until the light
beckons me
to rise
and face
the battle
once again.

Crystal R Cook