Ersatz
Synthetic, artificial,
Substitute, phony.
Don't trust that it's real,
It may be baloney.
A friend suggested I post my poetry, so I'm giving it a try. Please ask me before using my poems, and use my name as author. If you wish to follow this blog, enter your email address below and click submit. Thanks! Jackie Yeates Ginn
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Birds Without Feathers - April 2012
It's interesting to note that there are many words which share the same name as a bird. Here are a few:
Hawk
Have something to sell?
You MUST advertise!
Hawk your wares wisely
And hope someone buys!
Albatross
A burden that appears one day
With a worry that can't be kept at bay
With a threat that it is here to stay
And it seems it never will go away.
Lark
A harmless adventure
Devised that it might
Get rid of boredom
And bring delight.
Pigeon
As a rule,
Somebody's fool.
Crow
One who brags about himself
Is said to crow,
Though what he's done it seems that he's
The only one to know.
Hawk
Have something to sell?
You MUST advertise!
Hawk your wares wisely
And hope someone buys!
Albatross
A burden that appears one day
With a worry that can't be kept at bay
With a threat that it is here to stay
And it seems it never will go away.
Lark
A harmless adventure
Devised that it might
Get rid of boredom
And bring delight.
Pigeon
As a rule,
Somebody's fool.
Crow
One who brags about himself
Is said to crow,
Though what he's done it seems that he's
The only one to know.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Colorful Words - April 2012
It's interesting to me that often colors are used to describe things that aren't colors!
Yellow
Cowardly, chicken, having cold feet.
Gutless, craven, faint of heart, weak.
Pink
High colored, flush,
To scallop, to blush
Blue
Naughty, obscene,
Ultramarine,
Sad, depressed,
Heartsick, distressed
Purple
Off color, indecent
Vulgar, coarse
Dirty, improper,
Can it get worse?
Black
Dingy, squalid,
Stained, unclean,
Wicked, evil,
Bad and mean
Yellow
Cowardly, chicken, having cold feet.
Gutless, craven, faint of heart, weak.
Pink
High colored, flush,
To scallop, to blush
Blue
Naughty, obscene,
Ultramarine,
Sad, depressed,
Heartsick, distressed
Purple
Off color, indecent
Vulgar, coarse
Dirty, improper,
Can it get worse?
Black
Dingy, squalid,
Stained, unclean,
Wicked, evil,
Bad and mean
Saturday, April 21, 2012
For Kym on Her 50th Birthday - March 2010
When I figured out how old you are, I thought I’d croak!
What an opportunity, I thought, to make a big old joke!
But then I thought: it’s serious, I shouldn’t poke
Fun at run-down decrepit wrinkled gray-haired old folk.
Nay, nay, I say, I must be nice and sweet and kind
For you’re the nicest person one will ever ever find,
You’d help out anyone who might be in a bind,
You’d give them anything, right down to your last lemon rind.
But you ARE now one half century old, and that’s a lot
Of years to have under your belt, is it not?
Count’ em: FIFTY! Oh! my heart feels like it’s been shot
To think my charming little niece is no longer a tot!
Sigh.
Ah, but that’s the way life is, we are always growing older,
And our bodies, brains and hair follicles start to wither and to moulder,
And if you need to weep, I have a soft round comfy shoulder,
And I can loan a lap robe if you feel you’re getting colder.
But don’t weep long, don’t be too sad, don’t waste your time bereft.
Enjoy yourself and make good use of the few days you have left.
What an opportunity, I thought, to make a big old joke!
But then I thought: it’s serious, I shouldn’t poke
Fun at run-down decrepit wrinkled gray-haired old folk.
Nay, nay, I say, I must be nice and sweet and kind
For you’re the nicest person one will ever ever find,
You’d help out anyone who might be in a bind,
You’d give them anything, right down to your last lemon rind.
But you ARE now one half century old, and that’s a lot
Of years to have under your belt, is it not?
Count’ em: FIFTY! Oh! my heart feels like it’s been shot
To think my charming little niece is no longer a tot!
Sigh.
Ah, but that’s the way life is, we are always growing older,
And our bodies, brains and hair follicles start to wither and to moulder,
And if you need to weep, I have a soft round comfy shoulder,
And I can loan a lap robe if you feel you’re getting colder.
But don’t weep long, don’t be too sad, don’t waste your time bereft.
Enjoy yourself and make good use of the few days you have left.
For Kris's Sixtieth Birthday - Oct 2007
If something rhymed with sixty
I'd write a poem about your age,
But no word rhymes with sixty,
So I can't even rattle your cage.
But if a word rhymed with sixty
I'd write down something witty,
But no word rhymes with sixty,
And isn't it a pity?
If only a word rhymed with sixty
I'd dash off a line of mirth,
But no word rhymes with sixty,
Not a single word on earth.
But if a word rhymed with sixty
I'd write something full of fun,
Something like "Don't you wish
You were still just twenty-one?"
But sadly, no word rhymes with sixty,
Sad, so sad to say,
So instead of rhyming with sixty
I'll just wish you a Happy Birthday!
I'd write a poem about your age,
But no word rhymes with sixty,
So I can't even rattle your cage.
But if a word rhymed with sixty
I'd write down something witty,
But no word rhymes with sixty,
And isn't it a pity?
If only a word rhymed with sixty
I'd dash off a line of mirth,
But no word rhymes with sixty,
Not a single word on earth.
But if a word rhymed with sixty
I'd write something full of fun,
Something like "Don't you wish
You were still just twenty-one?"
But sadly, no word rhymes with sixty,
Sad, so sad to say,
So instead of rhyming with sixty
I'll just wish you a Happy Birthday!
Haiku Dec 2006
Redwood Country
Beware of three leaves,
Tread not on fat yellow slugs,
Use thy umbrella.
Beware of three leaves,
Tread not on fat yellow slugs,
Use thy umbrella.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Word of the Day - Ennui - April 2012
Ennui
Ennui:
To me
This means "to be
Full of boredom
And apathy."
Yawn.
Ennui:
To me
This means "to be
Full of boredom
And apathy."
Yawn.
Punks Need Not Apply - April 2012
I sunk in a funk and it stunk,
And I said to myself, "This is bunk!
I will find me a lunk
Who is built like a hunk
And then I will make a slamdunk!"
And I said to myself, "This is bunk!
I will find me a lunk
Who is built like a hunk
And then I will make a slamdunk!"
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Melancholia - 1987
I've got a disease which is fatal, I fear.
It's called Melancholy, and it's symptoms are queer.
You get down in the mouth with a sad little frown,
And you want nothing more than to go out on the town.
You listen to sad songs, and tears fill your eyes,
They spill down your cheeks, and you heave heavy sighs.
You mope 'round the house, and you pace up and back.
Your mood starts off blue but quickly turns black.
You read old love letters and long for the past
When the living was easy and the life was fast.
Nothing can cure it, it lingers for days.
You're off in a dream world, you're lost in a haze.
You're lonesome and hateful, in this melancholy mood,
Basking in the misery that feels so good.
It's called Melancholy, and it's symptoms are queer.
You get down in the mouth with a sad little frown,
And you want nothing more than to go out on the town.
You listen to sad songs, and tears fill your eyes,
They spill down your cheeks, and you heave heavy sighs.
You mope 'round the house, and you pace up and back.
Your mood starts off blue but quickly turns black.
You read old love letters and long for the past
When the living was easy and the life was fast.
Nothing can cure it, it lingers for days.
You're off in a dream world, you're lost in a haze.
You're lonesome and hateful, in this melancholy mood,
Basking in the misery that feels so good.
Pensee - 1986
Another style, Pensee, which I learned in a poetry class.
Questions For You
Have you
Forgotten us
And the way we used to love?
Or do you see me in your dreams
And do we walk together there?
Have you
Forgotten us
And the way we used to love?
Or do you see me in your dreams
And do we walk together there?
Houtt - 1986
A style called Houtt which I learned in a poetry class.
View From My Soul
My eyes may look
And never see you.
My soul,
Dear friend,
Sees you every hour
And holds you near.
My eyes may look
And never see you.
My soul,
Dear friend,
Sees you every hour
And holds you near.
To Old Lovers With Whom I No Longer Correspond - 1987
(A non-traditional rhyming scheme, which means I made it up)
Do you remember as I do
The laughter, the kisses,
The loving hugs, caresses?
The warmth of each other
On a cool spring night,
The occasional lovers' fight?
The intense gaze in each other's eyes,
The fun times that we had,
The times you purposely made me mad?
The honey-filled letters
When we were finally apart,
The final note which broke my heart?
So it's all over now,
We're on to other things,
But I still have your letters, tied with strings.
Do you remember as I do
The laughter, the kisses,
The loving hugs, caresses?
The warmth of each other
On a cool spring night,
The occasional lovers' fight?
The intense gaze in each other's eyes,
The fun times that we had,
The times you purposely made me mad?
The honey-filled letters
When we were finally apart,
The final note which broke my heart?
So it's all over now,
We're on to other things,
But I still have your letters, tied with strings.
Ironing on a Friday Night - 1987
I may be old and I may be fat,
But I'm not dead, in spite of that.
I long to go out dancing with a Fred Astaire,
Underneath the moonlight, in the warm summer air.
To swirl around in a ballet of grace
To look up into a tender smiling face,
To see eyes looking into mine,
To me, it would be nothing short of divine.
To disco, to two-step, to jitterbug, to bop,
I've even half a mind that I'd do the bunny hop.
To waltz around the room in the dim yellow light,
To stay out late, just one night,
To wander home, arm in arm,
Snuggled together to keep each other warm,
A lingering kiss at the kitchen door,
It would feel so nice, we'd have one more,
Then one last gaze that would say so much,
A caress on the cheek, such a gentle touch,
And finally, "Good night", and "I'll see you soon",
And he'd stroll away 'neath the stars and the moon.
Oh, it's Friday night, and I'm ironing pants,
But how I'd much rather go out and dance!
But I'm not dead, in spite of that.
I long to go out dancing with a Fred Astaire,
Underneath the moonlight, in the warm summer air.
To swirl around in a ballet of grace
To look up into a tender smiling face,
To see eyes looking into mine,
To me, it would be nothing short of divine.
To disco, to two-step, to jitterbug, to bop,
I've even half a mind that I'd do the bunny hop.
To waltz around the room in the dim yellow light,
To stay out late, just one night,
To wander home, arm in arm,
Snuggled together to keep each other warm,
A lingering kiss at the kitchen door,
It would feel so nice, we'd have one more,
Then one last gaze that would say so much,
A caress on the cheek, such a gentle touch,
And finally, "Good night", and "I'll see you soon",
And he'd stroll away 'neath the stars and the moon.
Oh, it's Friday night, and I'm ironing pants,
But how I'd much rather go out and dance!
Monday, April 16, 2012
Word of the Day - April 2012
Akimbo
Akimbo:
Askew
Or crooked
Will do.
Kudos
Kudos:
Praise or acclaim
Which could lead
To fame.
Smirk
Smirk:
Leer
Sly smile
Or sneer
Huzza
Huzza:
Hooray,
Three cheers
And yay!
Akimbo:
Askew
Or crooked
Will do.
Kudos
Kudos:
Praise or acclaim
Which could lead
To fame.
Smirk
Smirk:
Leer
Sly smile
Or sneer
Huzza
Huzza:
Hooray,
Three cheers
And yay!
Regrets - April 2012
This one I classify more as prose than poetry, because as my Grandma Valeda used to say, it's not a poem to me if it doesn't rhyme! You fill in the blanks with your own regrets.
I wish I had not...
I wish I had...
I wish I...
I wish.
I wish I had not...
I wish I had...
I wish I...
I wish.
Golden Oldies - April 2012
Golden Oldies transport me
To the good old days back when
My hair was brown, my years were young,
My waist was nearly thin.
The music brings back memories
Of times I can't forget
When the past was only yesterday
And the future was not yet.
The sun was a Red Rubber Ball
When I "Was Just Seventeen".
Elusive Butterflies were there
And Yellow Submarines.
Those times are gone forever,
Until the radio plays
Those beloved Golden Oldies
From my young and hopeful days.
To the good old days back when
My hair was brown, my years were young,
My waist was nearly thin.
The music brings back memories
Of times I can't forget
When the past was only yesterday
And the future was not yet.
The sun was a Red Rubber Ball
When I "Was Just Seventeen".
Elusive Butterflies were there
And Yellow Submarines.
Those times are gone forever,
Until the radio plays
Those beloved Golden Oldies
From my young and hopeful days.
Pantoum - Don't Ask Me to Camp - April 2012
From Wikipedia:
The pantoum is a form of poetry (where)there are repeating lines throughout the poem...(T)he second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues...except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the next to the last stanza; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final.
Don't ask me to camp.
The ground is so hard,
The sleeping bag's damp,
The hot dogs are charred.
The ground is so hard,
The pancakes aren't done,
The hot dogs are charred
And it just ain't no fun.
The pancakes aren't done,
The toilet's a bush
And it just ain't no fun
With a breeze on my tush.
The toilet's a bush,
No shower in sight,
With a breeze on my tush
I won't sleep all night.
No shower in sight,
The sleeping bag's damp.
I won't sleep all night.
Don't ask me to camp.
The pantoum is a form of poetry (where)there are repeating lines throughout the poem...(T)he second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues...except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the next to the last stanza; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final.
Don't ask me to camp.
The ground is so hard,
The sleeping bag's damp,
The hot dogs are charred.
The ground is so hard,
The pancakes aren't done,
The hot dogs are charred
And it just ain't no fun.
The pancakes aren't done,
The toilet's a bush
And it just ain't no fun
With a breeze on my tush.
The toilet's a bush,
No shower in sight,
With a breeze on my tush
I won't sleep all night.
No shower in sight,
The sleeping bag's damp.
I won't sleep all night.
Don't ask me to camp.
The Quail - April 2012
Mama quail
So round and fat
Wears her curl
Like a charming hat.
God must have been
In the mood to smile
To top her off
In such a style.
So round and fat
Wears her curl
Like a charming hat.
God must have been
In the mood to smile
To top her off
In such a style.
The Man With Dishpan Hands - March 2012
I love a man with dishpan hands, with knowledge of a broom,
Who's not afraid his "macho" might fade if he cleans the living room;
A man who changes diapers and knows what a dust rag's for,
Who'll sing and smile all the while he does a routine chore;
A man who washes windows and does other daily tasks,
Who makes it fun and gets it done,WITHOUT EVEN BEING ASKED.
Who's not afraid his "macho" might fade if he cleans the living room;
A man who changes diapers and knows what a dust rag's for,
Who'll sing and smile all the while he does a routine chore;
A man who washes windows and does other daily tasks,
Who makes it fun and gets it done,WITHOUT EVEN BEING ASKED.
My Prince Charming - April 2012
Published in the April 2024 issue of Sr. News, an insert in the Times-Standard of Eureka, California
Need not ride in on a steed,
Need not bring me daily flowers,
Or chocolates, or beads.
Enough that he will kneel down
With smile so very sweet
And say, "My dearest darling,
May I rub your feet?"
By the Fire - April 2012
On a cold, rainy day,
The wind showing its ire,
I find it okay
To sit by the fire.
To warm up my toes---
It's the best thing to do
When the wind blows.
I like it. Do you?
The wind showing its ire,
I find it okay
To sit by the fire.
To warm up my toes---
It's the best thing to do
When the wind blows.
I like it. Do you?
Epitaph - 1985
She was born, and she lived, and she died.
We think she must have laughed
And we think she must have cried
But all the things about herself
She kept locked up inside
So all we know about her
Are the things she couldn't hide:
She was born, and she lived, and she died.
We think she must have laughed
And we think she must have cried
But all the things about herself
She kept locked up inside
So all we know about her
Are the things she couldn't hide:
She was born, and she lived, and she died.
Lawnmowing - March 2012
When handwritten, I write every other line upside down...picture the path of a lawnmower!
I get a lot of satisfaction e
v
e
r
E .lawn the mow I time y
a
c
h time I round a corner I
c
a
B .done have I what see n
a
c
k and forth and back and f
o
r
t
.track green own my blaze I h
B
a
c
k and forth and back and f
o
r
t
.back and forth and back and hThings I Don't Like - March 2012
Ugly spiders, ugly slugs,
Creepy, crawly, ugly bugs.
Brussels sprouts and biting fleas,
Stinky feet and stinky cheese.
Paper cuts, and red sore toes,
Long runs in my panty hose.
Bad hair days and bad night dreams,
Holes in soles and rips in seams.
Needle pokes and screeching chalk,
Dogs that chase me on my walk.
Matches that refuse to strike,
Just a few things I don't like.
Creepy, crawly, ugly bugs.
Brussels sprouts and biting fleas,
Stinky feet and stinky cheese.
Paper cuts, and red sore toes,
Long runs in my panty hose.
Bad hair days and bad night dreams,
Holes in soles and rips in seams.
Needle pokes and screeching chalk,
Dogs that chase me on my walk.
Matches that refuse to strike,
Just a few things I don't like.
Sleeplessness - March 2012
It's three a.m.,
I cannot sleep.
I counted blessings,
I counted sheep.
My shoulder hurts,
My ankle itches,
My toes and feet
Are full of twitches.
My brain is running
On full speed,
Although it knows
It's sleep it needs.
Oh, Sandman,
Won't you visit please
So I can get
Some precious zzzzs?!
I cannot sleep.
I counted blessings,
I counted sheep.
My shoulder hurts,
My ankle itches,
My toes and feet
Are full of twitches.
My brain is running
On full speed,
Although it knows
It's sleep it needs.
Oh, Sandman,
Won't you visit please
So I can get
Some precious zzzzs?!
Inattentive Driver - March 2012
Look at your dashboard!
What are you thinking?
A mile ago you turned
But your blinker's still blinking!
What are you thinking?
A mile ago you turned
But your blinker's still blinking!
Pantoum Three - March 2012
From Wikipedia:
The pantoum is a form of poetry (where)there are repeating lines throughout the poem...(T)he second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues...except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the last; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final.
Lilacs in bloom
A lavender treat
Scent fills the room
Bringing memories sweet
A lavender treat
For eyes to behold
Bringing memories sweet
That ever unfold
For eyes to behold
Petals go on display
And ever unfold
For my pleasure each day
Petals go on display
Scent fills the room
For my pleasure each day
Lilacs in bloom.
The pantoum is a form of poetry (where)there are repeating lines throughout the poem...(T)he second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues...except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the last; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final.
Lilacs in bloom
A lavender treat
Scent fills the room
Bringing memories sweet
A lavender treat
For eyes to behold
Bringing memories sweet
That ever unfold
For eyes to behold
Petals go on display
And ever unfold
For my pleasure each day
Petals go on display
Scent fills the room
For my pleasure each day
Lilacs in bloom.
Things That Make Me Smile - March 2012
A giggling baby
A frolicking pup
Sunshine in my window
When I first wake up.
A freshly picked berry
A new book to read
A soft downy pillow
When it's rest that I need.
An old friend remembered,
A lost object found,
And the sweetness of grandkids
Make the whole world go 'round.
A frolicking pup
Sunshine in my window
When I first wake up.
A freshly picked berry
A new book to read
A soft downy pillow
When it's rest that I need.
An old friend remembered,
A lost object found,
And the sweetness of grandkids
Make the whole world go 'round.
A Bird by My Window - March 2012
There's a bird on the fence near my window,
Cocking its head as though
Awaiting my answer to its question
Of "Whither shall I go?"
Or perhaps "Where's a worm for my dinner?"
Or "Where's a string to use in my nest?"
"Shall I fly up high to the tree top
Or should I stay here and rest?"
There's a tiny bird near my window
With feathers of black and gray
Such a fat little bird near my window
Questioning me today.
Cocking its head as though
Awaiting my answer to its question
Of "Whither shall I go?"
Or perhaps "Where's a worm for my dinner?"
Or "Where's a string to use in my nest?"
"Shall I fly up high to the tree top
Or should I stay here and rest?"
There's a tiny bird near my window
With feathers of black and gray
Such a fat little bird near my window
Questioning me today.
Retirement - March 2012
Retirement is a fabulous thing
I no longer arise when the alarm rings
I do what I want, when I want, and then
Tomorrow I do it all over again!
I no longer arise when the alarm rings
I do what I want, when I want, and then
Tomorrow I do it all over again!
My Universe - 1980
There is a universe in me
With more than stars...
A universe much closer,
Yet at times, so far...
So deep, unfathomable,
Not understood.
I would reach in and know it
If I could.
With more than stars...
A universe much closer,
Yet at times, so far...
So deep, unfathomable,
Not understood.
I would reach in and know it
If I could.
Pantoum One - March 2012
From Wikipedia:
The pantoum is a form of poetry (where)there are repeating lines throughout the poem...(T)he second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues...except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the last; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final.
I love a good read
Paperback mysteries
Propped on my knee
And hardbound histories
Paperback mysteries
With a last minute tweak
And hardbound histories
For the strong and the weak
With a last minute tweak
To keep pages turning
For the strong and the weak
My soul does its yearning.
To keep pages turning
The lamp is lit late
My soul does its yearning
My heart cannot wait
The lamp is lit late
Propped on my knee
My heart cannot wait
I love a good read.
The pantoum is a form of poetry (where)there are repeating lines throughout the poem...(T)he second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues...except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the last; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final.
I love a good read
Paperback mysteries
Propped on my knee
And hardbound histories
Paperback mysteries
With a last minute tweak
And hardbound histories
For the strong and the weak
With a last minute tweak
To keep pages turning
For the strong and the weak
My soul does its yearning.
To keep pages turning
The lamp is lit late
My soul does its yearning
My heart cannot wait
The lamp is lit late
Propped on my knee
My heart cannot wait
I love a good read.
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