Category: A New Poem Every Morning

There’s a Sap For That

lindastudley4 Comments

Technology, the two edged sword,
LOL – OL
A million apps and still we’re bored
LOL – OL
with an app, app here, and an app, app there
Here an app, there an app everywhere an app, app
My phone’s smarter now than yours
LOL – OL

Solutions to those problems that
LOL – OL
We never realized we had
LOL _ OL
with an app, app here, and an app, app there
Here an app, there an app everywhere an app, app
My phone is dead and I am glad
LOL – OL

I’m gonna get a simple phone
Plug it in the wall
And if I’m not right by its side
I won’t get your call
with a hap, hap here, and a hap, hap there
here a hap, there a hap, everywhere a happy hap
free at last from cell phone’s thrall
LOL – OL

 

#307

(sung to the tune of ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’)

Seasonal Siblings

lindastudley4 Comments

Spring, the pampered baby of the seasonal family,
spoiled and cossetted. Every sunny smile a miracle,
every quivering green leaf a first step.  Even her  sudden
warm tears are welcome and end in rainbows. 

Summer, the simmering sister with the California smile,
all light and flowers and lazy self indulgence. The golden girl
that everyone wants as their friend. The seasonal
celebrity, paparazzi in her wake in campers and motorhomes.

Autumn, serenity with an edge, the generous big brother
with the fatalistic sense of humour. The sadness behind the
beauty of fallen leaves and soft winds. He shares his bounty freely
but behind each cornucopia lurks the knowledge that even he
can’t protect us from the other one…

Winter, the evil twin, all temper and disdain.
The long thin sneer on the calendar,
The ice tiger with a taste for frozen blood.
Howling paranoia that feeds on fear and rejection
piling wrath at our doors, gnawing exposed flesh
like a crazed piranha until, sated at last,
he expires into puddles at spring’s tiny feet.

#306

La Musique

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Tu ma sauvé encore une fois
Cœur de mon cœur
Mémoires du passé dans vos chansons.
Le fil fragile, incassable.
La musique.

#305

(English translation: “You saved me again, heart of my heart, memories of my past in your songs, the fragile thread unbreakable, music.”)

Birdsong

lindastudley2 Comments

When I am gone the birds will sing
as if I had never been.
It is a rather morbid thing
to think of in the dawn.

But looking at it rationally,
the birds have no interest in me.
They sang before I came to be
They’ll sing when I am gone.

The fact of it was there and yet
I was blissfully unaware of it
and now it makes me feel a bit
sad when birds are singing.

But no, I will not fall in this
egocentric black abyss.
I will reclaim forgotten bliss
in  songs the birds are bringing.

 

#304

Change in the Wind

lindastudley2 Comments

It isn’t you it’s me, I changed but you just stayed the same.
I don’t know how much longer I can play this silly game
and look the other way when you rage and act so cold.
My heart is getting harder and your temper’s getting old.

There was a time when I could handle all your flighty ways,
the long nights were a novelty that made up for the days
of unpredictability, of blowing cold then hot.
Back then it made me feel alive, alas, now it does not.

I know you’re never going to change, it’s more than I could hope.
So I’ll just have to be the one who has to learn to cope.
I think we need some time apart, a trial separation.
Perhaps a few months on our own, separate vacations. 

When we first met I thought you were the only place to be
This snug nest ‘neath Northern Lights, this lovely Peace Country.
But now the nest is far to thin when nights are cold and black
This Snowbird needs to stretch her wings, don’t worry, I’ll be back.

 

#303

 

Daisy, Daisy, Smiling Baker Lady

lindastudley2 Comments

Coconut buns with orange rind
Breads of every shape and size
Sponge cake, raspberry and ganache
Face it, this girl’s got panache. 

Oh it’s Daisy, Daisy,
she fills her facebook bak’ry
With pictures of culinary feats
You can almost smell the tempting treats
(yeah, smell them feats!)

Braided bread with apricot,
Tiramisu, crossed buns that are hot,
Multi grain bread and home made jam.
I eat whole wheat therefore I am

 Oh, Daisy, Daisy,
she fills her facebook bak’ry
Baking’s never been such fun
She’s got the most amazing buns
(yeah, check those buns!)

Cinnamon swirl bread and focaccia
Her ‘mise en place’ is always in placcia
I hope one day she’ll be opening
a bakery where I can stop and sing about…

Daisy, Daisy. The smiling baker lady…

 

#302

Dedicated to my friend Daisy, whose full colour pictures of her amazing baking leap out at me everytime I open my facebook page. Sigh, but Seattle is such a long way to go for a hot crossed bun 😦   If you can’t open a bakery, Daisy, at least open a mail order service!

Time in Space

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Time and space,
Space in time.
We take our place,
yours and mine

Tangled lines
within a web
human vines,
specious threads

overhead
stars align
fortunes read
give the sign.

All design
that ever was
repeats in time
again because

nature’s laws
are resigned
to ever draw
the spiral line.

Our space in time,
beside ourselves,
a nursery rhyme
that time retells.

 

#301

The Paved Road

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They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions,
But sometimes good intentions make for lousy travel plans.

Because, although the road is paved, someone forgot to mention
It’s also filled with detours leading back where you began.

The road to Hell is full of speed bumps, jagged holes and glass shards.
You sprint, you jump, you never thought a road could be so hard.

Then, somewhere along the way, you see this road you travel,
although paved, is harder to traverse than one that’s gravel.

And it’s never going to lead you where you really want to go.
I’m walking down a different path, to Hell with the paved road.

#299

What Time Isn’t

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The broken watch’s hands were frozen on its face
Like not to know the time was some kind of disgrace.

I pulled the back off with a knife, and gingerly removed
the hands and face and gears and bits that refused to move.

The gears and bits and face I threw away, they had no claim
upon my sympathy – but the hands – I pitied them their shame.

I put the hands back loose and free to rattle in the case
with a sign that said ‘Time is an Illusion’ for a face.
 
Now I have two watches, and when I need to make decisions,
one tells me what the time is, the other tells me what it isn’t.

#298