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.
Friday, January 11, 2013
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
Sunday, October 21, 2012
One Small Life
I've been waiting for a fitting time to post this song. I didn't really want to do it on just any day. To many people, today may be 'just any day', nothing too important, nothing that great.
Well, today has a special importance to me. Two years ago, while protesting at an abortion clinic, I gave my life to God. Outside of that place of death a new life was born. Two new lives, actually, as my sister followed in my footsteps.
That's why today is significant. That's why it is fitting I post this song today.
I was flipping through my notebook of song lyrics one day in March 2011, when I came across a Christmas song called One Small Child. It was written by David Meece. We have a Christmas CD with it on.
As I read through the lyrics, I noted all the references to Jesus as a small, helpless baby. It reminded me of all the small unborn babies that are being killed daily through abortion. That was the seed to my writing this song. I did not write it right away. I let the idea tumble about in my brain awhile. A few days later I wrote the song.
It's hard to say that I like it, because it's about abortion, but I think it captures many of the issues.
One Small Life
Lyrics by Melody Beerbower, 3-31-11
Tune: One Small Child, by David Meece
One small child in the womb of a mother.
One small embryo of flesh and blood.
One small fetus, a sister or brother.
One small image of God.
One mom ridding herself of a burden.
One mom choosing death over life.
One mom practicing her right as a citizen.
One mom rejecting a life.
And the Baby no longer wanted
Is the victim of it all.
Neither the mother, nor the father.
Want to be responsible.
One big right in the land of America.
One big choice from a people of sin.
One big battle that we must fight and win.
One big question of life.
Can't you see they are dying? They need us to help them.
They have no voice of their own.
Their Mothers and Fathers don't want to keep them.
They're so small, so helpless, so alone.
One small child born in spite of uncertainties.
One bright hope from a people who care.
One fervent prayer to our heavenly Father.
One plea to save these small lives.
I hope you all have a blessed Sunday.
~Melody
Well, today has a special importance to me. Two years ago, while protesting at an abortion clinic, I gave my life to God. Outside of that place of death a new life was born. Two new lives, actually, as my sister followed in my footsteps.
That's why today is significant. That's why it is fitting I post this song today.
I was flipping through my notebook of song lyrics one day in March 2011, when I came across a Christmas song called One Small Child. It was written by David Meece. We have a Christmas CD with it on.
As I read through the lyrics, I noted all the references to Jesus as a small, helpless baby. It reminded me of all the small unborn babies that are being killed daily through abortion. That was the seed to my writing this song. I did not write it right away. I let the idea tumble about in my brain awhile. A few days later I wrote the song.
It's hard to say that I like it, because it's about abortion, but I think it captures many of the issues.
One Small Life
Lyrics by Melody Beerbower, 3-31-11
Tune: One Small Child, by David Meece
One small child in the womb of a mother.
One small embryo of flesh and blood.
One small fetus, a sister or brother.
One small image of God.
One mom ridding herself of a burden.
One mom choosing death over life.
One mom practicing her right as a citizen.
One mom rejecting a life.
And the Baby no longer wanted
Is the victim of it all.
Neither the mother, nor the father.
Want to be responsible.
One big right in the land of America.
One big choice from a people of sin.
One big battle that we must fight and win.
One big question of life.
Can't you see they are dying? They need us to help them.
They have no voice of their own.
Their Mothers and Fathers don't want to keep them.
They're so small, so helpless, so alone.
One small child born in spite of uncertainties.
One bright hope from a people who care.
One fervent prayer to our heavenly Father.
One plea to save these small lives.
I hope you all have a blessed Sunday.
~Melody
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Grandpa
It was a year ago yesterday that Grandpa passed away.
This is one of my favorite pictures of him. I know. It's not very good quality and Grandpa isn't looking. I like it because of the story behind it.
It was the last time my brother and I went to Tennessee with Grandpa. We stopped at a rest stop. There were tons of bright yellow dandelions growing all around. On a whim, Eric and I decided to make a dandelion chain. We ran around and gathered the flowers. It was finished just as Grandpa got back. Laughingly, we presented it to him, and to our surprise, he put it on. I'm glad Eric suggested we take a picture...
This is a poem I wrote about him and read a his memorial service.
Grandpa
By Melody Beerbower, September 15, 2011
Here is what I’ll remember about Grandpa
All my whole life through:
Grandpa loved to tease people
It did not matter who.
One of my earliest memories of Grandpa’s teasing
Has to be this one
He once told me very solemnly
“You can’t play the trombone while sucking on your thumb.”
This one is my favorite;
Maybe it was Grandpa’s too,
We went to a restaurant that served water in pint jars.
This gave me an idea of what to do.
I drank down six pints,
But my stomach wasn’t stable.
It gave a heave and then
All six pints were back on the table.
Grandpa laughed so hard.
He would never let it pass.
It would always start more teasing,
When I got anywhere near a glass.
When I was much younger
It use to make me mad,
But as I grew older I enjoyed it
Now I’ll miss it bad.
Though Grandpa is now gone
And all his teasing done
They’ll linger in my memory
Sure as the rising sun
This is one of my favorite pictures of him. I know. It's not very good quality and Grandpa isn't looking. I like it because of the story behind it.
It was the last time my brother and I went to Tennessee with Grandpa. We stopped at a rest stop. There were tons of bright yellow dandelions growing all around. On a whim, Eric and I decided to make a dandelion chain. We ran around and gathered the flowers. It was finished just as Grandpa got back. Laughingly, we presented it to him, and to our surprise, he put it on. I'm glad Eric suggested we take a picture...
This is a poem I wrote about him and read a his memorial service.
Grandpa
By Melody Beerbower, September 15, 2011
Here is what I’ll remember about Grandpa
All my whole life through:
Grandpa loved to tease people
It did not matter who.
One of my earliest memories of Grandpa’s teasing
Has to be this one
He once told me very solemnly
“You can’t play the trombone while sucking on your thumb.”
This one is my favorite;
Maybe it was Grandpa’s too,
We went to a restaurant that served water in pint jars.
This gave me an idea of what to do.
I drank down six pints,
But my stomach wasn’t stable.
It gave a heave and then
All six pints were back on the table.
Grandpa laughed so hard.
He would never let it pass.
It would always start more teasing,
When I got anywhere near a glass.
When I was much younger
It use to make me mad,
But as I grew older I enjoyed it
Now I’ll miss it bad.
Though Grandpa is now gone
And all his teasing done
They’ll linger in my memory
Sure as the rising sun
Monday, August 6, 2012
Six- year-old Hero
This is a poem I wrote for a friend of mine. Today is his birthday. He is now Seven, and all grown up. He told me once that when he turned seven he would be too big for piggyback rides.
Six-year-old Hero
By Melody Beerbower
He’s a fire breathing dragon
With sharp claws and massive
tail
With powerful, stocky legs
Strong enough to bend an iron rail
He’s a fearless Texan cowboy
Riding under a blazing sun
Being chased by a thousand
Indians
Armed with only one trusty
gun
He’s a Superhero with special
powers
He has the strongest force
field
He faces millions of enemies
And makes every one of them
yield
Really, He’s a six-year-old
kid
With a big imagination
Who has invited me along
To help him rule the nation
Galloping on a horse
Or sailing through the sea
So many modes of transport
All of which are really me
He opened up a world of make
believe
I thought that I had lost
Together we fight thousands
of enemies
No matter what the cost
The only cost really
Is aching arms and a sore
back
A small price to pay
For the joy of the attack
People only see a dark-haired
little boy
Getting a piggyback ride, of
course
But he’s really a
night in shining armor
Riding his galloping,
snow-white horse
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