Text Me Truly

Text messaging’s a miracle;

As marriages are saved.

One need not spin lines lyrical,

When missives are engraved.

Notes don’t take introduction,

For brevity is key.

And words meet no obstruction,

Agree or disagree.

One’s character is not cut off,

Nor phrasing shouted short.

Our parlance seems above the scoff,

When single lines we sport.

Such documented words are safe

And painstakingly picked.

When questioned, should the memo chafe,

It’s clear what one has clicked.

Technology, we thank you much,

For helping us be heard.

You’ve surely saved us in a clutch.

All hail the printed word!

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Theme art – adapted from public domain image

Still from His Girl Friday, 1940

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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.

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Gone for good: A-Z verses from vintage visages

Gone for good

I choose to be happy. I choose to be whole.

I give up the faraway place in my soul.

The impolite hurting, who’ve knotted each scroll,

And livid attackers, who claim to control.

Electric excitement zips through every vein.

I’m bursting out laughing, releasing the pain.

My soul bubbles over, like drunk with champagne.

But what if the spoilers remount their campaign?

They won’t simply vanish. That much is for sure.

Alas, for I know I can’t banish each boor.

Still, though they may linger and stay immature,

Their onslaught reverts, for my faith is secure.

(Remind me the next time they toss their manure.) 

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: “faraway”

Five Minute Friday: “whole”

One-Minute Writer: “I give up”

Theme Thursday: “space”

Three Word Wednesday: “impolite,” “knotted,” and “livid”

Thursday Challenge: “electric”

#FridayFeeling – on Twitter

 Image/s:

Public domain photo –
 vintage image

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S is for Still I Rise

Writer and civil rights champion Maya Angelou (1928 - ) may be one of the most famous American poets of the current age. Her first book, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, has become almost required reading for American literature students.

With dozens of honorary doctorate degrees, she has spoken at Presidential Inaugurations and university graduations. In 2011, U.S. President Barack Obama presented Angelou with the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

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This poem demonstrates Angelou’s indomitable spirit.

Still I Rise

By Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

 With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise
I rise
I rise.

Last year’s A to Z post: Stuck on Self

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Related Items:

• No Trace of Grace
• A Glimmer of Grace
• The Race for Grace

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Image/s:

Dancer

Creative Commons Licensing

Favorite Classic Poems

Adapted from ClipArt ETC

A to Z Blogging Challenge logo

Fair Use

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Flyer Drill: A Limericked Shove on Rising Above

Flyer Drill

A Limericked Shove on Rising Above

A woman who loved a good thrill

Plunged into the fire until

A true breach of trust

Left “Done” in the dust.

A louder bird shrieked ever shrill.

His crowings ignited a blaze,

Desiring her feathers to faze.

Like phoenix of old,

She’d rise again, bold,

Perhaps even self to amaze.

Her smoldering wings fluttered frail,

And still on the skies she would sail.

Each tumbling bruise

Her longings would loose.

To travel above her travail.
c2011 by Linda Ann Nickerson

(Written in response to a prompt from Mad Kane.)

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Image/s:

Phoenix, by Barthelemy

15^th Century Artwork

From: Biblioteque Municipale d’Amiens, France

Public Domain Artwork

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