A Garden

Leather gloves tossed aside

Hard day’s work incomplete

Moistened with the nights dew

Soon to dry from sun’s heat

Garden grows to the beat

Tossing rocks, pulling weeds

Enhance the herbs to grow

Maintain the garden’s needs

Bask among the beauty

Trowel, spade, rake and hoes

Beneath a sky of blue

In the garden straight rows

Leather gloves tossed aside

Forecasting chores at hand

The work is never done

Beautifying the land

A Letter

Dear Mom:

I debated on writing this letter to you,

You never pay attention to anything I do. 

Insecure or terrible writer; it’s your choice,

I’ll never be as good as my sister’s voice.

It certainly is hard to write down a rhyme

for a mother who never devotes the time,

to read a letter I’ve written before,

I guess reading for some, is such a chore

I know you have quite an eventful life

and it’s always filled with some sort of strife. 

If I could help change it, you know that I would,

but you’re quick to point out my bad, not my good.

I know that moving many miles away,

upset some family, who thought I should stay

in a situation that never was going to be good

all my feelings were overlooked and no one understood.

Even though we talk each and every day

And try to sweep all those old heartaches away

You’re always distracted with some kind of thing

Talking with me is never all that exciting.

Some days I wish for a mommy’s hug

All warm and snuggled like a bug in a rug

I’ve tried so hard to gain your praise

And waited for approval for so many days

You love my sister more than me

I know it’s true it’s plain to see

You try to cover saying it’s not that way

That I was the strong one back in the day

I could handle things she never could

So I handled the things no one ever should

Grew up learning a false sense of trust

Ended in relationships that were nothing but lust

Something went wrong and I thought I died

Changes had come and I finally realized

I can’t blame my parents for any of my past

I pulled up ‘em up hard, my boot strings, at last.

I asked for God to help me through

To give me insight for what I misconstrue

I’m not the daughter that I used to be

And it doesn’t matter that you can’t see

You won’t even know I wrote this letter

Most likely that will work out for the better.

I’ll still do my best at everything I do

And continue to grow in my love for you.

Love,

Your daughter

Scents of Spring

I just love the smell of these!

A twining bine, grows into lengthy vine.

Hummingbirds come from afar 

For the ever sweet tasting nectar

Oh, yes, humans can enjoy it too,

Not only a beautiful landscape,

But also a tasty sweet treat.

A-Z Just Having Some Fun Pun On Words

Abcedarian accommodate alphabet with acclaim

Bartenders baffle and bamboozle the blame

Callow cacophony creates candid capers

Distasteful descriptions do deploy dopers

Eclogues express ending; epic explains expeditions

Fables flaunt flirty flings and fun fabrications

Gather gay groupies to gravitate and graze

Haphazard handwriting heaps headaches and haze

Idioms illustrate ideology including incidental information

Journalize jocularity and joyfully justify juxtaposition

Keep keen knowledge; kickback kitsch

Learn lexicology lettering; legal and legit

Magnificent metaphors multiply masterpieces

Negotiate nihility to necessitate niches

Obligatory observance obtains obsolete offers

Pleasurable palinode pleases pantaloon puffers

Question quatrains and quaternion quizzically

Roundly raconteurs rant rainbows radically

Satisfactory scribbles scratched on scraps

Transforms tachygraphy to tangible taps

Ultimatums’ unite unwritten ulterior urges

Vehement verbalism vehicles vexing verges

While writing wonderfully wisecracking words

Xerox the X-ray

Yank out the Yah-hoo

Zig-zag the zombie zoo

This blog was not signed up for the A-Z Blog Challenge but thought I might have some fun with it anyways. Check it out if you are so inclined.

Sentry Pillars

Raising shoulders gradually poke through

And point out toward the ocean blue

Crustaceous centurions guard the shore

In memory of the days before

No beach-goers leaving trash behind

Or landscape the condominium towers blind

No amusement rides or gamers boardwalks

Nor tourist campers and traffic gridlocks

Blanketed in salt water, the rocks are covered

Breakfast waiting seagulls, above they hovered

Crashing waves of water rolls

Greeting the rocks, they’re long lost souls.

Tide rolls in, tide rolls out,

Sentry pillars stand tall with clout.

Spring is in the air....

Remember to set those clocks ahead this weekend.

Conclusions

Conclusions

A small child sits quietly reading a book

The mother is outfitted with a meager look

No ring on her finger, no man by her side

She’s carrying herself with ego and pride.

“Mommy, I’m cold,” the little girl says with a cry

The mother looks back with certain evil in her eye.

Her skimpy tank top is cut way too low

Flaunting her cleavage for some naïve young beau.

The child not dressed for the too cool air

Mother oblivious, sits with a blank stare

How do I know what goes on in her life?

Perhaps it’s been filled with heartbreak and strife.

The child is interracial I can tell from her skin,

My mind is convicted from this judgment of sin

Little girl’s finger slides deep into her nose,

I feel so sad, wish I could give her new clothes.

Conclusions we draw from just a short look

Become the characters in the writer’s next book.