Short Share

Autumn is a good time for sharing short, favorite poetry. Here is one of my very favorites by Emily Dickinson. I like how it doesn't mention goldenrod allergies. *achoo* Isn't it pretty?

"The morns are meeker than they were,

the nuts are getting brown.

The berry's cheek is plumper,

the Rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf, 

the field - a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be old-fashioned

I'll put a trinket on."

Inkpen Poetry Day: "The Conquistador's Lament""

To make you laugh...

"The Conquistador's Lament"

 By Rachel Heffington

"Oh, to have a seniorita

Waiting for me in my casa

As the sun of dear Hispania

Speeds me home-a, fast an' fasta'

And to have the seniorita

say 'twas me her heart was for-a...

I would give all of my galleons

For a girl who I adore-a.

But I'm lone and lorn and wasted

In this colony in Flor'da

With not a single lady

Who would dare to cross the borda'.

I have doubloons by the thousands

And jewels by the score-a,

But I'd throw it in the ocean

For one girl who I'd adore-a.

I would tear my silken waistcoat

And rend my lace cravat-a

And burst my diamond buttons

If I thought 'twould help the matta'

But it's useless-truly useless

For the dreary thing is sure-a:

America has pinned me

And there's no one to adore-a!"

Absolute Nonsense!

This is what happens to my literary prowess when I've got a 40's Vintage-hairstyle Tutorial on the brain. I was waiting for pictures to load and picked up my pen and began to scribble:

"Requiem"

By A. Mourner

Gerbilrat Gillisplug,

King of Mice

Pinched his tail

in block of ice.

Squeaked and writhed

in sordid pain,

Got unstuck,

then stuck Again.

Wriggled, squiggled,

shrilled and squeed,

Till his tail

at last was freed.

Danced around

till frosty dusk,

screamed until

his voice was husk.

All his subjects

came to view

Gerbilrat's great

"ACH-ee-Choo!"

For he'd caught a mouse-y plague

And he died from tummy-ague.

And this decree his

Sad Death spawned:

Never pinch your tail

In Pond!

I told you! It is nothing but the keenest sort of nonsense my pen has ever leaked out. Good heavens. What a confession to make to the wide wide world. I ought to be ashamed of myself. Pity is, I kind of like it. ;)

Inkpen Poetry Day: "Nellie MacGuire"

"Nellie MacGuire"

By Rachel Heffington

Each little room in our house is so nice
But the nicest of all, full of woodsmoke and spice,
Is the kitchen--we almost don't dare to come in
So we walk on our tip-toes and stick out our chins
And peep `round the oven, just hoping to see
That Nellie MacGuire is taking her tea.
Her hair's shiny brown and her cheeks fairly glow
And when she is happy she'll give us some dough.
But if we peep in when her apron is tied
(With a big, fiercesome knot sticking out at the side)
Then she squawks like a hen with a new brood of eggs
And she thumps bread like carpenters thumping in pegs.
And if we are daring and step on the floor
Nell counts up to three and she counts up to four.
Then she purses her lips with a "look at you" face
And sends us off packing right out of the place.
But of course we come back and creep `round by the door
And we see the spice rack full of bakery lore,
The pantry shelves laden with bread light as silk
And the dairy with cheeses and butter and milk.
The fireplace gleaming, the huge iron pot,
And the tea-kettle that sings a song when it's hot.
The cab'net with china-blue flowers and white,
The medicine for when we're sick in the night.
And next to the window with sun streaming through
Holding tea-cup with flowers, some white and some blue,
Sits Nellie MacGuire with apron undone
And we knew now's the time we can start having fun.

This poem was somewhat inspired by my siblings. I'd be Nellie MacGuire, the slightly moody, but good-hearted cook. And the children in the poem would, of course, be the younger three: Benjamin, Abby, and Grace. :) I thought it turned out to be a rather cozy, Christopher Robin-ish poem. What do you think? -Rachel