Noise Day by Shel Silverstein

In honor of Memorial Day weekend and summer, I have decided to share this poem. Memorial Day is to honor those lost. I thank all Military people for their services and I remember those whom I love who have passed away. Yet, Memorial Day, all over the nation represents something else; the beginning of summer. The pools are now open and the majority of kids are out of school. SO, I find this poem very appropriate. :) enjoy. ~T

Let's have one day for girls and boyses
When you can make the grandest noises.
Screech, scream, holler, and yell--
Buzz a buzzer, clang a bell,
Sneeze--hiccup--whistle--shout,
Laugh until you lungs wear out,
Toot a whistle, kick a can,
Bang a spoon against a pan,
Sing, yodel, bellow, hum,
Blow a horn, beat a drum,
Rattle a window, slam a door,
Scrape a rake across the floor,
Use a drill, drive a nail,
Turn the hose on the garbage pail,
Shout Yahoo--Hurrah--Hooray,
Turn up the music all the way,
Try and bounce your bowling ball,
Ride a skateboard up the wall,
Chomp you food with a smack and a slurp,
Chew--chomp--hiccup--burp.
One day a year do all these,
The rest of the days--be quiet please.


R.I.P. baby nephew Mason('99-'00), Uncle Bill ('56-'07)and Great Uncle Charlie('30-'11). I love you.

I'd like to make a special thanks to Shel Silverstein also, for teaching me it's ok to mis-spell words and create words of your own as long as you do it on purpose, with purpose. :)
R.I.P. Shel Silverstein ('30-'99)

Frozen

This isn't a new poem. I just never posted it. I felt like it's just a repeat in different words of other poems I have written. I also didn't like the end of it. But when I re-read it tonight, I found what needed to be added to the end to make me like the flow. But I still feel like it's a repeat. Sharing it none the less. enjoy ~T


Shut it down
put up the walls
because what's inside
I don't like at all
Shield my face
with tears of ice
freeze them out
try to be nice
too warm, too soft, too plush
inside
to deserve anything
besides
Broken, shattered
trying to tape it back together
holding on
against this cold weather
Where I end is not where I begin
but open minds
are longed for again
open hearts lost
in the madness of this winter storm
I just want to be held
comforted, to be warm
to be loved, to be cherished
forever more.

Nothing

Don't you hate it when you ask your mother or someone else you love what they want for a gift and they say, "nothing."? I believe people say that either because they feel guilty for "wanting" anything specifically or they want you to figure out what they want on your own. My mother told my sisters and I this year that she wanted "nothing" for Mother's Day. So I thought of this clever poem to satisfy her wants. :) enjoy. ~T

Here is nothing
the nothing you ask for
the nothing you receive
Here is nothing
the nothing you don't deserve
the nothing you don't leave
Here is nothing
Though you always deserve more
Though this nothing, you misconceive
Here is nothing
Though you give me more than I deserve
Though you give me a great love weave
Here is nothing
because a mother's love deserves more
because a mother like you, I wish not to aggrieve
Here is nothing
because you are a mother, I assume, deserved
because you are a mother, I could never preconceive
Here is nothing
and when you tire of the nothing you ask for
and when the nothings fade, be relieved

I got you flowers too.

Blood

Drip, drip, drip.
Feel it pulse
head to toe.
Feel it stop.
Let it flow.
Drip, drip, drip.
Hear it rush
through your ears.
Hear it burst.
Let it roar.
Drip, drip, drip.


For some reason my blood was just pounding through me last night as I lay to bed and the feeling of it inspired me to write this poem. ~T

Love poem XXXVII of Emily Dickinson's

Gonna give ya one of Emily's AND one of mine today. Emily first though. :) enjoy. ~T

Love is anterior to life
Posterior to death
Initial to creation, and
the exponent of breath.

The Nap Taker by Shel Silverstein

No--I did not take a nap--
The nap--took--me
Off the bed and out the window
Far beyond the sea,
To a land where sleepy heads
Read only comic books
And lock their naps in iron safes
So that they can't get took

And soon as I came to that land,
I also came to grief.
The people pointed at me, shouting,
"Where's the nap, you thief?"
They took me to the courthouse.
The judge put on his cap.
He said, "My child, you are on trial
For taking someone's nap.

"Yes, all you selfish children,
You think just of yourselves
And don't care if the nap you take
Belongs to someone else.
It happens that the nap you took
Without a thought or care
Belongs to Bonnie Bowlingbrook,
Who's sittin' cryin' there.

"She hasn't slept in quite some time--
Just see her eyelids flap.
She's tired and drowsy--cranky too,
'Cause guess who took her nap?"
The jury cried, "You're guilty, yes,
You're guilty as can be,
But just return the nap you took
And we might set you free."

"I did not take that nap," I cried,
"I give my solemn vow,
And if I took it by mistake
I do not have it now."
"Oh fiddle-fudge," cried out the judge,
"Your record looks quite sour.
Last night I see you stole a kiss,
Last week you took a shower,

"You beat your eggs, you've whipped your cream,
At work you punched the clock,
You've even killed an hour or two,
We've heard you darn your socks,
We know you shot a basketball,
You've stolen second base,
And we can see you're guilty
From the sleep that's on your face.

"Go lie down on your blanket now
And cry your guilty tears.
I sentence you to one long nap
For ninety million years.
And when the other children see
This nap that never ends,
No child will ever dare to take
Somebody's nap again."



This is one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems from his book, Falling Up. I love the clever use of words. It also reminds me of a movie I saw as a child called, Puff the Magic Dragon. It was about telling lies. I don't remember for sure if that changed the title of it. lol. Anyways... :) ~T

Love poem of Emily Dickinson

It's all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
This, and my heart, and all the fields,
And all the meadows wide.
Be sure you count, should I forget,--
Some one the sun could tell,--
This, and my heart, and all the bees
Which in the clover dwell.


I love reading Emily Dickinson poetry. She uses similar rhythm to her poetry as I do in mine and it flows so easily from my tongue. ~T

I'm Writing to Tell You by Jewel Kilcher

I'm writing
this letter to tell you

I don't love you anymore.

I don't miss you.

I never have.

The truth is, I
tried, but never found
your adoration
anything other than arduous

your niceties cliched,

your praise thoughtless,

and it has become
unbearably obvious
that you love me with
all the originality
of romance novels;

the manly man weakening
the luscious flower.



One of my absolute favorites. As a single lady, I have met quite a few men who this poem reminds me of.
~T

I Don't Suppose Raindrops by Jewel Kilcher

I don't suppose raindrops
will ever replace
the sound of small feet

nor sunflowers
their tiny crowns

All the dust has gathered itself
and settled on
your heart
and there is no correct combination

no key

no question

that will deliver them
once more
to your side

for she has already decided:
no answers will
be given



I love Jewel's poetry. Her music has always been some of my favorites even from when I was young. I'm sure her music helped inspire my own poetry.
~T

Not a poem- Essay on Fantasy Fiction

I was wanting to write an essay on something, just for fun. Don't hear that very often, do you? lol. Anyways, I picked the topic of Fantasy fiction. I asked myself- How do you define Fantasy fiction? This is what I wrote. Enjoy and leave me comments about the essay in general or how you define Fantasy fiction or maybe any other genre of literature that you enjoy. :) ~T

Fantasy takes the mind somewhere it may have never imagined. Yet, someone else imagined it. Authors of fantasy fiction build exciting, parallel worlds, magical beings and an over all sense of awe.

What if today's world didn't have cars, but instead everyone traveled by giant bubbles? Authors build their fantasy worlds on stacked questions of; "What if?" The essential question for all fiction writers plays a crucial part in delving into a writer's imagination. What if the sky was brown and the dirt was blue? Readers of fantasy fiction cannot question, "why?" Fantasy makes the question irrelevant. Yet, a great fantasy writer will be able to paint a world of magic and delights so believable, instead readers will ask, "why not?"

Once the world is built, why not add creatures of wonder? Magical creatures of fantasy are almost a must. The selection and creation of fantasy characters and creatures is usually inspired by the combination of; what the author knows, reality, and ideas formed from myths or folklore, or formed from pure creativity. These characters and creatures give the author's created world a purpose.

With purpose, comes life and adventure. Fantasy worlds are created, filled, brought to life and then presented to the reader. Readers of fantasy can devour the platter of an amazing world, wondrous creatures and a great tale of adventure. The author transforms these magical, fantasy elements into a tasty smoothie. Readers learn to love the characters. The readers are amazed by the fantasy world. Then the readers just burst into ecstastical bliss, all from a well written fantasy.

These fantasy authors are great at building exciting worlds, filling them with magical beings and leaving readers satisfied and in awe. That is what defines a good fantasy novel. Fantasy, as we never imagined, built upon questions.

We Create in Different Ways

Again, going to talk before the poem. :) This poem was inspired moments ago by my realization that I love it when people comment and like about my art work and scenery photos I post on facebook. Where I post art, my friends and family post pictures of their children. I'm sure they feel proud and happy when people "like" and comment on the pictures of their children too. ~T

Smile, birth
Smile, create
photo, awww!
photo, neat!
1 step, 2 step, Cheer!
1 line, 2 line, review.
giggle, giggle, Hug!
snap, snap, upload.
scribble, scribble, fridge.
Doodle, doodle, display.
your children, your creation.
my children, my creation.

Death's Checklist

I did this poem for an assignment. We had to write a poem that was a list. I remember that I struggled with the concept, thinking that I couldn't express anything worth reading with a list. I proved myself wrong though. Tell me if you agree. ~T


scream
cry
hyperventilate
panic
silence
Will I survive?
wide eyes
tears
breathing
heart beats
nothing
Will I survive?

The Students' Snow Storm

The various movements of students
Each motion unique
The tapping of a foot
The clicking of a tongue
The biting on a pen
The putting on of some gloves
The rhythm of silent sounds
sweetly singing of sleepiness
eyes dart around
some are lazy, others are intriguing
The symphony sounds out in anxiety
Waiting for the silent white
To release them from their cage.

LOL. I loved this poem and writing it was fun too. I remember observing the classmates around me as we all waited to hopefully be released early from school because of the falling snow. :) I don't remember however if we did get released early or not. Goes to show it's the waiting that counts and not the prize. :) ~T

Reality

Usually I talk after the poem, but I am doing before today. ;p I was looking through old writings of mine from high school. I found two old poems I wrote for a class. I thought I would share them with you. enjoy :) ~T

Old age bitterly falls
falls into my bones, into my skin
skin droops and wrinkles and is tanned
tanned as a young Californian, happy in the sun
sun shines through the windows of my dreary, dark room
room for my children, my grandchildren, to run and play
play an old hymn on the organ at church
church is where I congregate among my friends
friends grow old... I grow old.