Archive for April, 2012

Tweeting? Hahahaha! What’s That?

Sitting here reading all these awesome tweeting poems, laughing like a banshee. Then it strikes me that I have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about; none whatsoever! What the heck is tweeting? I thought that was something only birds did! They can be heard tweeting like crazy outside my window every morning and to tell the truth, they’re tweeting right now.

Reading these poems has sparked my imagination and in my mind’s eye I see all these little birds; robins, black birds, sparrows, an eagle and an occasional parrot that’s escaped it’s cage, sitting on electrical lines or tree limbs opposite each other with teeny, tiny Blackberries or whatever other kind of phone can be used for tweeting and their itty, bitty little claws are going insanely fast on the keys as they send little messages to each other.

“Check out the pretty black bird next door!” ;-)… (drooling)

“Did you hear about Mr. Parrot and Miss Robin?” %-6 (not very clever)

Now I don’t know, but does that make me a twit, or a tweet?

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Written for JP At Olive Garden at:  http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/04/poetry-picnic-week-32-topics-on.html

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Sunlight Whispers

stock photo : Church stained-glass window with sunlight shining through   I keep hearing little noises in my house. Thinking it was mice, I bought D-Con to take care of those little buggers, but the sounds haven’t gone away.

     The noises never wake me up and they’re not scary. I only hear them during the day, when I’ve opened the curtains in my living room, when I’m playing the piano and when I run my hands through the little dusty streams coming through my stained glass window as the sun shines through them.

     There it goes again do you hear it? A child’s shriek of laughter; giggling, joy, the occasional sob and a little voice asking for a Band-Aid and then a question, “Who are you? Do you like my house?”

     I’ve lived in this house for seventy years and today will be the last day anyone will ever reside in it. My son allowed me to stay here through today; he knows how much I love this house. It holds my history; I was born here, married in the back yard, had my first child in the upstairs hall. I lived every day of my marriage here and held my husband as he passed on home.

     After standing three hundred years they’re tearing it down. I guess it’s time to put it to rest.

     Still I will miss it and walking through the house and I gently touch the wood of the walls, run my hands over the doors; rub the floor with my feet, so smooth. It’s still beautiful in spite of its fragile age. Sighing out loud, I hear the giggles again and the question, “Who are you? Do you like my house?”

     No, they’re not ghosts. They’re my memories; whispers of yesterday and I can take them with me wherever I go.

My Magical Rainbow

     I woke up this morning and heard the gentle pitter-patter of soft rain on my windows. Quickly, I pulled my chair over to the window and like an excited child pressed my nose against the glass. A joyful and excited gasp passed my lips, as the sun broke through the clouds and gifted me with a beautiful rainbow. It looked 3-D! The desire to put my hand out and touch it was strong, but I knew I’d be pulled in. Smiling, as I glanced around my room, I put my hand out and touched the rainbow, and the fairies and leprechauns met me on the other side.
I played with them for a while, helping the leprechauns protect their gold and flitting here and there with the fairies. A joyous day full of laughter and fun.
The pitter-patter of the rain came harder and faster and the rainbow melted away as the sun hid behind a cloud. I said my goodbyes to my friends, opened my eyes and smiling made my way downstairs to make breakfast.
Maybe it would rain again tomorrow.

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This was written for: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/04/poetry-picnic-week-31-nature-color-and.html
Thanks for the opportunity!!