Illogical Ideals and Suppositions of the Seasons

-->

Illogical Ideals and Suppositions of the Seasons

Photo c2009 by Nickers and Ink. All rights reserved.

Winter’s Last Laugh –

Who’s in Charge Here?

The Joker weaves a world of white,

Though winter’s storming out-a-sight.

How marvelous the Maker’s eye,

As smoke-like flurries mystify.

With jumbled joy, ‘mid our complaints,

We watch, as the Creator paints.

Frustrations mounting, hear Him call.

The greatest Humorist of all.

We shovel, pondering the scoop.

It’s time for snow to fly the coop.

c2009 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts ( “flying the coop”)

Friday Flash-55 (55 words)

Friday Funnies

Meme Express (“A Sunday Invitation”)

Monday Poetry Train

One Single Impression (“smoke”)

Pumping Your Muse (“The Joker”)

Simply Snickers (“marvel,” “master” and “miss”)

Then Sings My Soul Saturdays (“Here I Am”)

Weekend Wordsmith (“jumbled”)

Photo/s posted in response to these prompts:

Camera Critters (photo/s)

Scenic Sunday (photo/s)

Straight Out of the Camera (SOOC Sunday)

Thursday Challenge (photo/s)

Wordless Wednesday (any day – photo/s)

Sight vs. Might

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“winning and losing”)

Meme Express (Sunday Invitation – to Simply Snickers)

Pumping Your Muse (“the unexpected”)

Read-Write-Poem (writer’s choice - #64)

Simply Snickers (“still,” “stop” and “stray”)

Slice of Life Sunday (“Writer’s Choice”)

Sunday Scribblings (“art”)

Totally Optional Prompts (“repetition”)

Word-Filled Wednesday (“mind control”)

Sight vs. Might

Clear eyesight is critical, but vision truly counts for more. What would you do, if you suddenly lost your sight, as I did recently? I thank God daily for my praying friends. My Miracle Status really does depend on shared prayer, as my faithful friends keep my eyes focused where they belong.

Interceding Beats MiSreading –

A Rhymed Conception on Perception

My friends, they open up my eyes

With earnest prayers and groaning sighs –

For even when I cannot pray,

These faithful lampholders ne’er stray.

Beseeching from the Source of Light,

I wrestled with Him through the night.

A foggy fortnight passed me by

With cirrus shadowing one eye.

A sudden shade eclipsed my days,

Attempting to confuse my ways.

I’d blink and stare and stop to see,

But vision still eluded me.

As fear’s own forces raised their swords,

With daggers forged from daunting words,

I sketched a line and stood my ground,

My own lost lens to be refound.

Then, tracing images by heart,

I drew upon a missing part.

For other hands, they held me dear

By interceding through to clear.

True vision rests in mind control,

Perceiving insights of the soul.

Mere repetition, prayer is not,

Not unexpected faith begot.

Pure promises may yet await

For miracles, not yet too late.

No MonSter may exhaust the beam,

For sights may not be all they seem.

Though days and weeks may be a blur,

My faith is focused. I concur.

The Healer’s power will persist.

Lampholders: thanks for the assist.

Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Try your hand with weekly prompts! Or, look into The Meme Express for daily blogging prompts.

Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.

Throughout 2009, please join us at The Heart of a Ready Writer, a Bible reading and devotional blog, as we read through the entire Bible in chronological order.

Click here to subscribe to an RSS feed for this writer's helpful Helium content. If you wish, click here for a free subscription to this author's online AC content, so you won't miss a single post!

Preaching to the Mirror, Perhaps?

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“and then …”

Meme Express (“peculiar people”)

Simply Snickers (“sleep,” “sorry” and “sweet”)

Sunday Scribblings (“organic”)

That’s My Answer (“I Don’t Really Think I Can Manage . . . Today”)

Weekend Wordsmith (“pens”)

Word-Filled Wednesday (“rest”)

Writer’s Island (“Just Around the Corner”)

Preaching to the Mirror, Perhaps?

Inklings –

A Limericked Tear on a Poetry Rare

Mere ink on a page does not poetry make,

Though often we offer the self-same mistake.

In free verse or rhyme,

Our two cents will chime,

Unless we more effort and energy take.

 

So sorry indeed are the jottings so cheap,

Organic, but trite, scrawled while drifting to sleep –

Sweet longings confessed

But still not expressed,

Peculiar people and pens reaching deep.

 

We claim, “I can’t manage the verse. It’s too hard.”

But just ‘round the corner, a muse stands on guard.

The poet, distraught,

Then catches true thought,

While some of us settle to mimic the Bard.

 

We pray inspiration may blind us with light,

That inklings may overflow to our delight.

Poetic to wax,

We dare not relax,

But rewrite and edit with all of our might.

 

Fine wordsmithing builds in the depths of the heart,

As words coalesce into musical art.

With rhythm and poise,

So much more than noise,

A true poet beauty may ever impart.

 

Please take no offense by these barbs, if you will;

We preach to the mirror with homily shrill.

The longing of lore,

Creative rapport

Does drive us to dare require more of the quill.

 c2009 by Linda Ann Nickerson