I was given the challenge of writing a non-rhyming poem, using a template based on the poem "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon.  Here it is.

Where I’m From  - April 12, 2024

I am from upright Kirby vacuum cleaners,

From Nestle Quik (chocolate) and hula hoops.

I am from mostly junky little houses

Filled with hand-me-down furniture.

I am from the perfumed lilac bush and

The blackberry bush hideout.

I’m from sitting in the backseat on long trips to see relatives,

Or because we were moving once again.

I’m from J. D. and Rhea,

From salted watermelons and salted apples

And from angel-hair Christmas trees with blue lights.

I’m from “don’t tell me no” and “you make a better door than a window”

And “Little Scrawny Teacher”.

I’m from moving without getting to say goodbye.

I’m from Idaho and every European country,

Homemade fudge and lemon meringue pie,

From Rhea’s leprechaun who chopped wood in the forest,

Her crocheted doilies and tablecloths, Valeda’s poems and songs,

Stored in cabinets or boxes in the shop.

I’m from Corene’s quilts made from scraps,

From J.D.’s work ethic and his

M I crooked letter crooked letter I crooked letter crooked letter I humpback humpback I.

 A Lesson From Nature - March 2012

Heads bowed low beneath the rain, 

But strong enough to rise again,

The yellow daffodils arise

And face the wind, the stormy skies, 

And you and I can learn from them, 

These hardy blossoms on their stems, 

To face our trials, big and small, 

And rise triumphant over all.

Things I Wonder About and For Which I Should Probably Take Science Courses

April 8, 2024

Let’s start with that flaming orb we call the sun.

Where does all the fuel it burns come from?

After eons and eons of burning hot and bright

Surely by now it should have fizzled out of sight!

And also in the sky, that glorious night time sphere,

Which somehow pulls the sea from over there to over here!

How can an object so high up in the sky

Control the boundless ocean’s endless daily tide?

Now my mind turns to the earth’s molten core,

Where, I’m told, iron has burned forevermore.

With no oxygen, how does it keep on burning?

For that matter, how does the earth keep on turning?

What about the wind? Sometimes gentle as a child,

But other times it can blow so ferociously and wild!

All these thoughts and more my mind can’t comprehend,

But, I can turn to Google, my well-informed friend.

 Six Senses -  January 11, 2024

Cotton ball clouds on a background of blue,

Silver-white streaks of sun soaking through,

Bright yellow daffies on stems rising high,

These are all things that enchant the eye.

The trickle and burble of bubbling streams,

Like the sparkling and jingling of God’s tambourines.

A mild zephyr rustling the leaves in the trees.

What could please the ear more than these?

The heavenly softness of a young rabbit’s fur,

The warmth of a duvet when feeling quite “brrr”,

And who could deny the endorphin rush

Of the pure simple pleasure of the human touch?

The sweetness and tartness a strawberry brings,

A perfect filet mignon, how it sings!

The original drink, water, so pure and cold,

Such tastes must be lauded, they must be extolled.

A whiff of hot bread when the oven's ajar,

The sharp scent of pine needles unlocked from afar,

A hint of the lilac, a wink of a rose,

Are teasers and pleasers that uplift the nose.

Sight and sound, touch, taste and smell,

God has indeed blessed us so well.

But the blessings that rise above them all,

Are the memories of you and the love I recall,

Friends  

Dec. 16, 2023

Meet Mardi.  She walks everywhere, Sometimes others join us

Flatland, uphill and down. In the middle or at the start.

Her goals include inspiring We may be a bunch of old fogies

All the people of our town. But we are very young at heart!

Meet Marla, the graceful matriarch Meet the Resource Center Wunderkin,

Of our Friday Morning crew. Molly and Shelby and Chris.

Classical music is her bag, Molly’s the Resource Lady

But the Jazz Bros will do! And she invents groups like this.

Meet Tina Catalina.      Shelby reads children's stories

She’s in charge of all PR         To the little kids in town.

For the Coffee Club, the Brewery, Chris entertains us with his guitar

But especially the Logger Bar! When he’s not hauling boxes around.

Meet Ann, so sweet and quiet, These three bring a sense of vitality

Until she hears a familiar song, And make us old fogies feel great!

Then listen up, because she’ll join As though our opinions are valued,

With you and sing along.         As though our ideas carry weight.

Meet Art, who keeps discussions going So here’s to the friendships we’ve made here!

And who also happens to sing, So here’s to the laughter and fun!

But do not be mistaken.         So here’s to the time that we spend here!

Baseball is his thing! May we all just keep on keepin’ on!

Meet Jackie. She loves her Friday mornings

It’s her favorite day and time,

And she’s the author of this poem

And other little rhymes.

 For My Family

Dec. 23, 2014

For thirty-five Christmas Eves (give or take one or two)

I've known exactly what I would do.

I'd pack all the gifts and food in the car

And drive a bit south, not very far,

To my sister's place where the house overflowed

With family and friends, and the Christmas tree glowed.

The Kemps cooked the main course, the guests brought the sides,

And we ate and we talked and we laughed and we cried.

Some years we had "programs" with songs by the kids,

Some years we played games, and guess what else we did:

We had head-stand contests in honor of Dad!

Do you know any others with a tradition like that?

Makeshift beds were all over the floor,

In the bedrooms, the family room, the trailer, and more.

The kids snuggled up, worn out and yawning,

Excited to see what would come in the morning.

And the morning! My word, you never saw such a sight

As the wrapping paper flew in the dawn's early light!

And the smiles on the faces and the love all around

Were just part of the blessings that were there to be found.

After breakfast the kids played with their toys

Or went outside to wear off their excitement and joy.

Then the big "kids" would gather around the table

To play the big kid games, if they were able.

Taboo, Balderdash, Trivial Pursuit, to name a few,

Competition was fierce between me and you!

There were years when appearances were made

By Mom's fudge and divinity, two things I wouldn't trade

For anyone else's, no matter how good,

For Mom's recipes date back to her own childhood

And probably further (Aunt Maurine would know);

The fudge so rich and the divinity like snow.

In the late afternoon as the sun went down

It was time to head back to my own little town.

With hugs all around and gratitude, too,

Another Christmas was gone; the time always flew.

The decades went by and the children got grown

And had spouses and children and traditions of their own.

So things are different now, but though my eyes may be wet

All those years, all those Christmases, I'll never forget.

I love all of you.

 Reflections - Oct. 20, 2023

When first we met

You made me laugh 

With your silly response

To a question I asked.

From that time on

You kept a smile on my face

With the things you would do

And the things you would say.

Being around you

Was my greatest delight

You took out the darkness

And replaced it with light.

It was so long ago

But I remember it all

And the smiles still come

And the tears also fall.

Folks say, “Be glad that it happened,

Not sad that it’s gone”

But it's so much easier 

Said than done.

I smile at the memories

And tears fill my eyes

My face cannot hide it,

So it smiles, and it cries.