Amazon book deals

Save on Art Supplies

Sunday

Dog days: Hounded by humidity and losing lucidity




Baby, it’s hot outside. My grandmother used to say, “Horses sweat. Men perspire. Women glow.” It’s an old saying. But lately, I beg to differ.

Dog days
(Hounded by humidity and losing lucidity)

My sprint is spent like long-lost lien.
I’ve showered thrice. I’m still not clean.
We wonder why the summer slogs,
But every day will have its dogs.
I puff and pant like mongrel mean.

The temp has dropped a few degrees.
I venture out to catch a breeze.
If just a mile or three I’d try,
My tales would justify some pie.
But after two, I crawl on knees.

God only knows my top complaint.
For He has heard I ain’t no saint.
A trio of excuses grand
I reconstruct to beat the band
And seek a shadow, there to faint.

Get up and move, you soggy slug.
Go grab that water, gulp and chug.
Then stomp those sneakers ‘round the block.
Your alibi’s a crusty crock.
I stand and shrug, and off I plug.

And still I wonder, as I fry,
Will this entitle me to pie?
c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson


This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Camera Critters: pictures of creatures
Mad Kane Humor: “lean” or “lien”
Meme Express: “venture”
Simply Snickers: “tales” (or “tails”), “trio,” and “try”
Shadow Shot Sunday: “shadow”
Sunday Smiles: something worth smiling about
Sunday Stealing: “God only knows”

Image/s:
 Vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.

Saturday

Rose-colored glasses and a white gown


Sometimes a half-dozen words are enough. But maybe not always.

Rose-colored glasses and a white gown

A carefree wonder caught her cloak.
She buttoned up to go for broke
And donned her specs of rosy hue.
Perhaps they had been better blue.

Bedecked in lace, this woman-child
Cast dreams aside to deem them wild.
The woodpecker put spark to bark
To measure how she missed the mark.

She wasn’t worthy of her wings;
Alas, the creed of self-crowned kings.
How colored glasses do deceive
A heart embroidered on a sleeve.

I’d love to help this friend by chance
To give her value second glance.
Dare hope she’ll come to recognize
The view improves in honest eyes.
c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson


This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Daily Post: “carefree”
Five-Minute Friday: “help”
One Minute Writer: Six Word Saturday
Show My Face: Six Word Saturday
Simply Snickers: “woodpecker,” “wonder,” “wild,” “worthy,” and “wings”
Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “second”
Meme Express: “go for broke”
Theme Thursday: “glasses”
Writer’s Workshop: “spark”
Image/s:
 Thanks to Sepia Saturday
for this vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.

From zilch to zing: A-Z verses from vintage visages




From zilch to zing
Rhyming views on returning hues

The stairway from boring to bright
Brings frustrated frowns back to light.
From grainy and chipped
To zany and zipped,
We zoom to the zest and ignite.

As zombies, kept captive beneath,
No image of worth to bequeath,
We huddled and shook
As long as it took.
Till false proved the evil one’s teeth.

Our colors now glow without lamp.
Our spirits are no longer damp,
As boldly we stride,
No joys still denied.
For we from the gloom did break camp.
c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson



This poem was posted for the April A to Z Blogging Challenge and National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), as well as these prompts:

Daily Post: “stairway”
Meme Express: “zany” and “zip”
Simply Snickers: “zest” and “zoom”

 Image/s:
Public domain photo –
 vintage image
(Thanks to Sepia Saturday
for this image.)

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.

Friday

Yea or Nay: A-Z verses from vintage visages




 Yea or Nay?
A poet’s case for saving grace

I used to link laws with beliefs
As metaphorical motifs.
Inside, I’d simmer, yelp, and yell
To ponder bliss and flee from hell.

I’d measure where I thought I stood
Between the camps of bad and good.
And maybe, if I did it right,
My steps would lead to endless light.

At last, I tumbled in the grass,
Regarded yonder, took a pass,
And yielded to the roar of grace.
‘Twas anything but commonplace.

Considering my former stance
I’ve stepped aside from duty’s dance.
Though truth may grade not on the curve,
To rule on others takes some nerve.

So thankful that I need not know
Who may belong above, below.
For that decision takes a crown.
My pay grade sits a long way down.
c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson



This poem was posted for the April A to Z Blogging Challenge and National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), as well as these prompts:




Image/s:
Public domain photo –
 vintage image

Feel free to follow on Google+ and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page on Facebook.

LinkWithin

Blog Widget by LinkWithin