Mystery
By Melody Beerbower
Glowering, gloomy lights
Shadowy, shifting trees
Oppressing, ominous silence
Sultry slithering breeze
Dark and stormy nights
Touching, tragic history
Barbaric, broken trust
Intricate, encrypted messages
Horrible, hardened crust
Mystifying, mystical mystery
Monday, January 28, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
January 27, Poem #17 The Poems that Might have Been
Oh how sad to think
Of those poems that might have been
Had I but sat down in a chair
And taken into my hand a pen.
Who knows what glorious prose
Would have flowed from my finger tips,
Or what magical things
Would have escaped from my ruby lips.
Not that poems are prose
And the words really flow from the pen.
I don't generally speak my poems aloud,
Only now and again.
Of those poems that might have been
Had I but sat down in a chair
And taken into my hand a pen.
Who knows what glorious prose
Would have flowed from my finger tips,
Or what magical things
Would have escaped from my ruby lips.
Not that poems are prose
And the words really flow from the pen.
I don't generally speak my poems aloud,
Only now and again.
January 26, Poem #16
Little miss Muffet
Sat in a corner
Eating her Christmas pie.
Along came Jake Honer
Who sat on the tuffet,
And I have no idea why.
Bonus to make up for the ones I didn't write:
Rub-a-dub-dub
Three men in a tub.
Who do you think they were?
I never did get a good look,
So I really couldn't say for sure.
Sat in a corner
Eating her Christmas pie.
Along came Jake Honer
Who sat on the tuffet,
And I have no idea why.
Bonus to make up for the ones I didn't write:
Rub-a-dub-dub
Three men in a tub.
Who do you think they were?
I never did get a good look,
So I really couldn't say for sure.
January 24 & 25, Misses One and Two.
I forgot to write a poem on both Thursday and Friday. (I was under the impression that I had written one on Thursday, but I can't find one with that date, so I suppose I did not.) This is a terrible neglect on my part. I am most dreadfully sorry.
January 23, Poem #15
Why must I insist
On going to bed as late as this,
When there's really nothing for me to do,
But go to bed like normal people do.
At least...I think they go to bed...
Or was that just something that I read?
On going to bed as late as this,
When there's really nothing for me to do,
But go to bed like normal people do.
At least...I think they go to bed...
Or was that just something that I read?
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
January 22, Poem #14 Penguins
Penguins
By Melody Beerbower
Penguin's are cute, cuddly, and fun.
At least...that's what I've heard.
I've never actually met one...
By Melody Beerbower
Penguin's are cute, cuddly, and fun.
At least...that's what I've heard.
I've never actually met one...
January 21, Poem #13 Prickle, Prickle Little Toes
I hope you can guess what tune this poem goes to.
Prickle, Prickle
Little toes
How I wish you never froze.
Tucked away in socks and shoes,
Now you're turning different hues.
Prickle, Prickle
Little toes
How I wish you never froze.
January 20, Poem #12
I wrote a poem, but can't find it at the moment. If you don't believe me, ask Rebekah. She saw me writing it.
I have discovered my poem!
Staring blankly at the wall,
Suddenly my eyelids start to fall.
My mind has drifted,
Attention shifted;
This class is terribly dull.
I have discovered my poem!
Staring blankly at the wall,
Suddenly my eyelids start to fall.
My mind has drifted,
Attention shifted;
This class is terribly dull.
January 19, Poem #11 Wilbur Limerick
There once was a boy named Wilbur,
Whose face looked much like a gofer.
He was remarkably kind,
And didn't really mind-
Until he began to grow fur.
I know. I know. It's dumb. I had a better poem, but I have to add more to it. Maybe I'll post it another time.
Whose face looked much like a gofer.
He was remarkably kind,
And didn't really mind-
Until he began to grow fur.
I know. I know. It's dumb. I had a better poem, but I have to add more to it. Maybe I'll post it another time.
January 18, Poem #10 In the Stillness
In the Stillness
By Melody Beerbower
In the stillness I hear a voice
Whispering,
"Peace. Peace.
Don't fear. Rejoice.
The one you have loved is safe with me.
I've brought her home,
To My home,
For all eternity."
January 17, Poem #9 Dust Bowl of the 1930's
Sorry, I haven't been posting my poems recently. I have, however, been writing them.
The Dust Bowl of the 1930's
By Melody Beerbower
It was 1931;
The dust bowl had just begun.
By plowing up miles
Of soil for planting,
No one knew just what they'd done.
Wheat was a profitable crop,
So the ground they started to chop,
Plowing up thousands
Of miles and more.
They saw no reason to stop.
But then the unexpected drought came.
It was one of record fame.
The rich crops all died.
The ground was parched,
From the long absence of rain.
I haven't finished this poem, partly because I haven't finished my research on the Dust Bowl, partly because it's rather boring.
The Dust Bowl of the 1930's
By Melody Beerbower
It was 1931;
The dust bowl had just begun.
By plowing up miles
Of soil for planting,
No one knew just what they'd done.
Wheat was a profitable crop,
So the ground they started to chop,
Plowing up thousands
Of miles and more.
They saw no reason to stop.
But then the unexpected drought came.
It was one of record fame.
The rich crops all died.
The ground was parched,
From the long absence of rain.
I haven't finished this poem, partly because I haven't finished my research on the Dust Bowl, partly because it's rather boring.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
January 16, Poem #8
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I haven't written a poem
So this will have to do.
Violets are blue.
I haven't written a poem
So this will have to do.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
January 15, Poem #7 Tea
Tea
By Melody Beerbower
Tea, Tea
What kind should it be?
Green tea, brown tea
Black tea, red
I need some to clear
This cold in my head.
Just for the clarification, I do not really like tea, nor do I have a cold. No one said the poems had to be true.
By Melody Beerbower
Tea, Tea
What kind should it be?
Green tea, brown tea
Black tea, red
I need some to clear
This cold in my head.
Just for the clarification, I do not really like tea, nor do I have a cold. No one said the poems had to be true.
January 14, Poem #6 Watery Eyes
Watery Eyes
By Melody Beerbower
That little trickle in my eye
Does not mean I'm about to cry.
It simply means, in a manner of speaking,
That my indoor plumbing's leaking.
My eyes must think it terribly fun
To be constantly on the run
With no logical reason at all
Save to make others think I bawl.
I try to wipe the tears away
In the most inconspicuous way,
But no matter which method I keep trying
Someone always thinks that I am crying.
By Melody Beerbower
That little trickle in my eye
Does not mean I'm about to cry.
It simply means, in a manner of speaking,
That my indoor plumbing's leaking.
My eyes must think it terribly fun
To be constantly on the run
With no logical reason at all
Save to make others think I bawl.
I try to wipe the tears away
In the most inconspicuous way,
But no matter which method I keep trying
Someone always thinks that I am crying.
January 13, Poem #5
This poem is dedicated to all my little friends at church. I could not think of a title for it, so it doesn't have one.
Chubby hands grasped in mine
Shining eyes locked on my face
Glowing smile with teeth so fine
Wispy hair sticking up all over the place
Tiny body snuggled close to me
Secret message whispered in my ear
Bubbly giggles filled with glee
Cherished time with ones so dear
Chubby hands grasped in mine
Shining eyes locked on my face
Glowing smile with teeth so fine
Wispy hair sticking up all over the place
Tiny body snuggled close to me
Secret message whispered in my ear
Bubbly giggles filled with glee
Cherished time with ones so dear
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Poem #4 Santa Clause in Overalls
I wrote this poem at a Contra Dance I went to last night. It really should have a few more verses, but I only wrote one.
Santa Clause
In overalls
Playing a violin
Music plays
Musician sways
As the dancers spin
Santa Clause
In overalls
Playing a violin
Music plays
Musician sways
As the dancers spin
 |
| This man was the inspiration for my poem. |
Friday, January 11, 2013
Poem #3
Thankfully it does not matter at what time I post this, only that I wrote a poem on that date. Here it is.
I have to write a poem,
But it is very late,
So this is all I have,
Written on this date.
I did warn you there would be some lovely ones...
Good night.
I have to write a poem,
But it is very late,
So this is all I have,
Written on this date.
I did warn you there would be some lovely ones...
Good night.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
A Poem a day Keeps the Boredom at Bay
Several of my friends-- well, my sister and two of my friends are all doing photo-a-day projects. My sister has completed one year with only eight misses, and is starting her second year. Although I do enjoy taking pictures, I am not particularly good at it, nor do I understand any of that camera language of ISO's and shutter speeds. I also am seldom in possession of a camera, since it's usually with my sister. Of course it is hers. All this is to say that I am not going to do a photo-a-day contest.
However, I enjoy writing. One day I thought, "Hmm, what if I wrote a poem everyday for a year?" So this is the project that I am embarking on. A poem a day keeps the boredom at bay. 365 poems. I'm sure they'll be lovely.
It is much easier to snap a photo than to write a poem. But then again, I'm not going to put any qualifications on my poetry, so it may be easier to dash off a few rhyming lines before bed than to grab a camera and snaps some photos. Also, as long as I have a pen and paper (or at least a good memory) I can write a poem anytime.
Dad was just saying to me that if I was going to be the next Dr. Seuss I would need to amass more poems. So by the end of a year I should have 365 of them. Since I wrote a poem yesterday, that can count as my starting date. This should be interesting.
My second poem. Here it goes...
The Past
By Melody Beerbower, January 10, 2013
When people reflect on their pasts
They generally conclude
It never lasts.
Aaaaaa, let me try again.
Plans
By Melody Beerbower, January 10, 2013
Yesterday I planed to do
What I didn't get done today,
But I figure I'd just put it off
Till tomorrow anyway.
I shall leave it at that and bid you a fond farewell.
However, I enjoy writing. One day I thought, "Hmm, what if I wrote a poem everyday for a year?" So this is the project that I am embarking on. A poem a day keeps the boredom at bay. 365 poems. I'm sure they'll be lovely.
It is much easier to snap a photo than to write a poem. But then again, I'm not going to put any qualifications on my poetry, so it may be easier to dash off a few rhyming lines before bed than to grab a camera and snaps some photos. Also, as long as I have a pen and paper (or at least a good memory) I can write a poem anytime.
Dad was just saying to me that if I was going to be the next Dr. Seuss I would need to amass more poems. So by the end of a year I should have 365 of them. Since I wrote a poem yesterday, that can count as my starting date. This should be interesting.
My second poem. Here it goes...
The Past
By Melody Beerbower, January 10, 2013
When people reflect on their pasts
They generally conclude
It never lasts.
Aaaaaa, let me try again.
Plans
By Melody Beerbower, January 10, 2013
Yesterday I planed to do
What I didn't get done today,
But I figure I'd just put it off
Till tomorrow anyway.
I shall leave it at that and bid you a fond farewell.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Wright Wrote 'Rite' Right
Wright Wrote 'Rite' Right
By Melody Beerbower, January 9, 2013
Wright tried to write 'rite' right,
But the 'rite' Wight wrote was wrong.
Wright righted his writing, but realized
While reading and riding,
That even with the righting of his writing was wrong.
Wright tumbled while riding and righting his writing
So before Wight's right mind could feel bereft,
Wright righted himself and wrote 'write' right,
And having written 'rite' right,
Wright left.
Hopefully you enjoyed that. I could ask you here to comment the best play on words you have heard, but I'm not that stupid to reveal once and for all that no one actually reads my blog...
Besides, don't you always feel sort of sorry for those people who ask questions like that, obviously hoping that many people will respond...and no one ever does?
I shall leave you with this (also made up on the spot):
Where is the cheapest place to drive?
Look for the answer in the comments.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Augustine the Lima Bean
I haven't posted a poem in a long time. So here is a random one I wrote some time ago.
Augustine the Lima Bean
By Melody Beerbower, October 15, 2011
Once there was a lima bean,
Riding in a limousine,
Wearing a fine suit of green
Reading a Time Magazine
This bean’s name was Augustine
The reason for his traveling
Was to call on a jellybean
His sweetheart named miss Magdalene
He wished to drive submarine
To do all of his adventuring
But he couldn’t get that machine
Because his wallet was far to lean
The car drove through a vast ravine
And there ran out of gasoline
Stuck somewhere in the town of Aberdeen
When he heard the howl of a wolverine.
How does he get out of the ravine?
Does he get eaten by the Wolverine?
Will he get to marry Magdalene?
Well, I’ll leave that up to your imagining
Augustine the Lima Bean
By Melody Beerbower, October 15, 2011
Once there was a lima bean,
Riding in a limousine,
Wearing a fine suit of green
Reading a Time Magazine
This bean’s name was Augustine
The reason for his traveling
Was to call on a jellybean
His sweetheart named miss Magdalene
He wished to drive submarine
To do all of his adventuring
But he couldn’t get that machine
Because his wallet was far to lean
The car drove through a vast ravine
And there ran out of gasoline
Stuck somewhere in the town of Aberdeen
When he heard the howl of a wolverine.
How does he get out of the ravine?
Does he get eaten by the Wolverine?
Will he get to marry Magdalene?
Well, I’ll leave that up to your imagining
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