The U in You

ABC and 123 are all most common and often heard,
the first numbers and letters that in kindergarten we learned.

Remember in school they'd call your name alphabetically?
If the prize was sweet and we started with A, we'd celebrate with glee.

But if we were U like Ursula, you waited and waited and yawned.
And when your time finally came the best was usually gone.

But if instead we start at the end and not at the beginning,
there'd be a chance for UVW and 1 million and 3 to be grinning.


Prompted by Poets United: The Thursday ThinkTank: "The 3rd letter of your first name"

My first name is Lauri so the 3rd letter is U!!!

My poem is short and sweet and pays honor to the numbers and letters and the end, not the beginning.

Dr. Chocolate's Rx

In a world full of chocolate you may favor a treat.
Dark chocolate may grab your taste buds by the seat..
Melted over strawberries and sweet coconut;
or peanuts, or almonds, or any other tasty nut.

Or maybe instead, dark chocolate doesn't do,
maybe, just maybe, milk chocolates for you.
Drizzled on cake, or a simple candy bar;
handy candy on the go, to eat in your car.

Now others, still others, prefer something light;
not milk chocolate or dark, instead something white.
White cholcolate covered crispies made out of rice;
and white chocolate dipped cookies, now isn't that nice?

No matter how you melt it or bake it up too,
chocolate may bring great comfort to you.
A chocolate Rx, a tasty treat for the tummy,
chocolate, dear chocolate, you are so very yummy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Created poetry by Lauri Halterman (c) 2011 for Poets United Thursday Think Tank: CHOCOLATE!
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/05/thusday-think-tank-50-chocolate.html

Childhood Magic

 

                       Photo from google images

Magic to me was Mr. Bojangles,
with his big rig diesels he drove
and those twinkling bright blue eyes.

Bojangles they called him on the CB Radio
but to us he was know as our dad.
A man who loved burgers and fries.

I learned to climb like a monkey
up into and all around that truck.
I simply could not get enough.

A rough and tumble tom-boy,
who loved working with my dad.
I wasn't scared to be greasy and tough!

The trips were adventures
on the white lined highway.
Honking the horn here and there.

I'd flash lights at the passing trucks
with the toggle switch on the dash,
as they would pass us with care.

The people we would meet
in truck stops along the way,
just loved to entertain tots.

There once was a  nice man
who made music with spoons,
Oh, how I liked him, lots!

Sometimes we would stop and see,
people we loved, our family.
It was nice seeing people we knew.

I talked dad into that puppy
while at Aunties in Sacramento.
Then, in the truck, he pooped in dads shoe!

Then that time in Des Moines, Iowa,
a rare time we stayed in a motel.
It had a pool and I just knew I could swim.

I jumped in the deep end
and floundered a bit too long
and poor dad, fully dressed, jumped in.

I will never forget the magic,
the memories and the adventures,
of my childhood life with my dad.

And even though he's now passed on
he lives on in my heart and my soul,
as the best childhood magic I had.

 

~~~~~

Written for Think Tank Thursday - Nov. 4th

The real magic wand is the child’s own mind

~Jose Ortega y Gasset

To a child magic is amazing possibilities, to a romantic it’s what happens when you fall in love and to a scientist it is something to be scoffed at, magic is something to everyone. What is magic to you?

It could be a familiar smell that brings back a memory, maybe it is silence to a frazzled mother or it might be the wonders of technology, any way you look at it magic means something to everyone. This week use your pen as a magic wand and share with us the magic in your world.

River of Irony

The river of irony goes with the flow,
it turns and it twists as it puts on a show.
It flows soft and sweet with its delicate trickles,
then roars into madness, leaving rafters in pickles.

It needs to be present, for there to be life;
it can cut through a canyon like butter from knife.
Before we were born, we swam in it and grew;
our first world of fluid was all our lungs knew.

That life bringing first breath that comes from the air,
we cry as we breath in this air we all share.
The water now takes on a new destiny,
for that which can give life can take it you see.

We need it to drink, but it's best when it's pure;
with too much pollutants, it could kill us, for sure.
When we don't drink enough, our poor bodies dehydrate.
Sit it in too long, we shrivel up like a dried date.

Its brings life to being, yet blows homes to bits.
Its calm, cool and tranquil, then throws hurricane fits.
Were grateful for all that our water can bring,
were blessed to have drops from our clean clothes to wring.

The moral I speak of lies hidden in rocks,
this life giving water . . . this paradox.
It gives life and takes life, sometimes in one breath;
then gives up a teardrop at the mention of death.

That teardrop then falls from the face of the living,
who pick up their feet and continue the giving.
The sweat on our brow becomes fuel for our soul.
A rebirth for the living, for this is our goal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Written in response to this weeks:
Think Tank Thursday Prompt# 12 at United Poets

"We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one"
~Jacques Cousteau

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also I write this in honor of all those who have suffered from the devastation's of water damage in any way shape or form. Hurricanes, Tornado's, Vicious Storms, Typhoons, Tidal Waves, Tsunami's.

Flood and water damage is devastating.

Water is a force not to be reckoned with.....

The Minds Eyes are Wise

My minds eyes, to my surprise, see so much more than I.
For when I trust my eyes alone, a so called truth, might be a lie.

Behind my eyes, to my surprise, are teardrops full of dreams.
They see much more, than just what is, they see beyond what seems.

These teardrops do not always flow, from out of the edge of my eye.
Sometimes they just hold back real tight, no reason to even ask why.

Teardrops aren't just for the pain, they're for the beauty too.
Those moments of the many tears, and those moments of the few.

These eyes that see, they puzzle me, and make me doubt just what I feel,
but behind these eyes, in the eyes of my mind, I see what is for real.

Inside I see a sharp view, of the many, of the few, and of us all;
because truly, it's about us all, answering that silent, universal call.

Seeing that which can't be seen, and that which can only be felt.
Living your life the best that you can with the cards that you've been dealt.

And to open our inner eyes wide, and to let what we see, sink in to our very soul;
in doing so, you grow, and the eyes of your mind truly see, and the soul begins to glow.

And once a soul glows, its like magic, and has the ability to reach out and embrace;
to grab hold off a heart, to sooth, comfort, and coerce a smile from a mournful face.

Even though we know the bodies eyes might see, listen to what you're minds eye's see.
For this is what is real, to feel, and it sets our hearts, spirits, and ultimately, our souls free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poets United: The Thursday Think Tank - Prompt 10

Prompt: The Eyes

"For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be”
~Lord Alfred Tennyson

My Sanctuary

Sometimes when I close my eyes and drift off to sleep,
I start to dream and by surprise I'm pulled right off my feet.
Suddenly my arms become capable of flight;
I soar through the sky, everything such a delight.

I find that sleep removes me from the troubles of my day.
A sort of an escape that keeps my frowny side at bay.
Sleep reboots my system giving me another start.
Tomorrow is a new day to love with all my heart.

Another way that I refill my soul when feeling blue,
is by sitting on the back deck and absorbing natures view.
I feel at one with nature and the birds in the sky.
I soak up all the energy and exhale pain with a sigh.

At times when noise taunts me and I need a little quiet,
I run a nice hot bath and pretend I'm at the Hyatt.
I add some bubble bath and turn the lights down low.
Light a scented candle and ease in really slow.

If unwelcome sounds still reach me and I find I want no more,
I plug my ears and nose and dive beneath the bathtub shore.
I stay beneath the water hearing sounds like seashells make,
I stay submerged until I feel my lungs begin to quake.

For a moment I'm all alone, just me and my bath hideaway;
and quite often its enough to keep my demons at bay.
My soul is soothed and I can face the world once again,
replacing tired frowns with a rejuvenated grin.

~~~~~~

Inspired by Poets United and Thursday Think Tank #9

Sanctuary

"Sanctuary, on a personal level, is where we perform the job of taking care of our soul.”
~Christopher Forrest McDowell

Food-play

Sultry little subtleties
in the way the you catch my eye.
An eyebrow raised provocatively,
and a softly whispered sigh.

From across the textured tablecloth,
you gingerly grab a hot roll.
Then with honey butter and a knife,
you spread the roll just so.

With that special twinkle in your eye
and an eager, outstretched hand,
you offer up a sweet morsel of bread,
to my mouths promised land.

The bread and butter melt;
upon my tongue, such ecstasy.
I love this sultry food foreplay,
and that magical way you look at me.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inspired by:

The Thursday Think Tank - Prompt #8

Sultry - hot and humid; very hot and dry; torrid; sexually enthralling; sensual excesses