I Don’t Need You

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Excuse me while I find you something else
And somewhere else to occupy yourself.
The truth is, that cheesecake doesn’t need you
In its personal space at the moment.
Now let’s just move right along. Move along.
Go on with you now. Yes. You. I’m talking
To you. No one else. That “innocent” look
Has nobody fooled. You’re fooling no one.
And I’m not trying to be mean. You know
That you won’t resist temptation alone.
Cheesecake conquers self control faster than
Hot-blooded Americans realize,
Especially if mealtime was more than-
Er — a minute or two ago. You want
Some for yourself and you might as well tell
Everyone, including yourself, the truth.
Come away with me before you fall to
Agonizing depths of diet failure.
Kindly leave the table, then stay away.
Enjoy a nice big slice of self-control!
by Gwennon
November 27, 2019
for my German Shepherd, “Roosevelt”, who has expressed no overwhelming disdain for all desserts

All Purpose

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Native of all my loveliest daydreams,
Expected to jolt to life anytime
We are together. She’s more than she seems:
Perfect for young and old, inspiring rhyme
Even doing nothing at all. This sweet
Triceratops is plush and whimsical,
Delighting me, and awakening dreams
I cherish of Eden’s peace. Optimal
New friend of kids who into wonder roam.
Options for her employment are many:
Sunblock sitting on my shoulder while my
Awesome husband cheerfully drives us home.
Unexpected friend of silly granny,
Reaching for her, since she is so close by.
Gwennon
October 15, 2019

At Risk?

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Should I hoard up all my umbrage,
Lest it into trouble stray?
What if umbrage is a substance
Whose quick exit brings dismay?
Can I really guard and keep it
And protect it from all harm,
Or will umbrage be escaping
On a smoothly-twisting arm?
Might I keep it in a closet?
Should I stash it in a bank?
Would my umbrage
Suffer breakage
If I hide it in a tank?
Well, no matter where I put it,
It is sure to get away,
Since we hear of many people
Taking umbrage ev’ry day!
Gwennon
September 27, 2019

In A Name

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If my “rose” is just a daisy,

Then have I been simply lazy?

Though I’ve worked on this like crazy,

Are results a tad bit hazy?

 

I’ve not studied well this art form,

And I’m feeling others’ sharp scorn,

As the label’s from my works torn,

I am feeling rather forlorn.

 

There is precious few agreement

On the writings that can cement

Praise sincere in its vehement.

Yep. There’s rampant disagreement!

 

Though I’ve labored much upon it,

Have I never wrote a sonnet?

 

Gwennon

September 5, 2019

Cat Burglar

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You’re stealing my poor puppy’s peace,

Which NO ONE ought to do.

So, Kitty, I will take this chance

To say, “Shame, SHAME, on you!”

You taunt my precious hound-girl

‘Til she’s WILD to give you chase.

You never stop to think that thus

Your value you debase.

Your presence here AIN’T needed

Unless you are killing mice.

So scoot on down the road, my friend:

Don’t MAKE me tell you twice!

 

by Gwennon, July 21, 2019

for my poor, beleaguered “Baby Beatrice”

My Two Wonderful Fathers

It’s hard to find modern poems that I can love and enjoy. But they occasionally do find me. I hope you will enjoy this one as much as I have. And if you do, please thank the author. She did a great job.

Seeking Divine Perspective

“If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask him?” Matthew 7:11

June was my dad’s month – Father’s Day, his birthday – he even married a lady named June. (Their anniversary is in June.) So I’m dedicating one more post to him today.

Just before flying to St. Louis to join my father for his big 65th birthday celebration, I composed this poem during my morning run. I am now one year older than he was then – Where does the time go???

Happy Father’s Day, everyone.

                           To Dad

You told me that God was my Father;                                         …

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Without the Conductor

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The band was not in session;

Indeed, could not be,

Though the eager young musicians

Glanced pointedly,

And repeatedly,

At the sacred space

Where their beloved instruments

Were meticulously kept,

Quietly reposing momentarily,

Safe from both the elements

And overuse:

The carefully locked doors

Surrounding those well-guarded treasures,

Known by most of the commoners

As pots and pans.

 

by Gwennon

July 1, 2019

Beautiful

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It’s a beautiful day,

And my bed is made,

And my dishes done,

And the dogs behave

As we stand together,

Shaded from the sun,

Enjoying the breeze in our hair,

While none in our exclusive little group of three

Barks at cats,

Or pulls incessantly at the leash,

Or shouts unprintable epithets

At any of the neighbors

Who are also braving the heat.

 

It’s a beautiful day,

Made even more beautiful

By the songbirds

Pouring out their little wild hearts

In a chorus that has to be

About a million billion times

More joyful–

Not to mention, WELCOME–

Than the loud, raucous disharmonies

Ladled out generously

Earlier this week

By enlightened

Drive-by

Music educators.

And we peacefully soak ourselves

In summer birdsong

As the laughter of children,

Splashing into their cold,

Pop-up swimming pool next door,

Washes over our hearts

With its healing balm

Of innocent gladness.

 

It’s a beautiful day,

And I remember

How thankful I was

To move into this house

In this neighborhood

That God provided

At just the right time

For a price that was

Even better than we expected,

And He protected us–

And protects us still-

From a series of very awful things,

As we begin to relax,

Adjust to our new normal

And decompress

And heal

In this lovely oasis

Only He could have provided.

 

It’s a beautiful day to be alive,

And I am glad.

 

by Gwennon

June 15, 2019

Done

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A thousand little duties done.
Such duties that we had to do,
Which seemed we never would get through,
But now we see them fully done.
And all the time we thought was long
Is gone–IS GONE–and won’t return,
And many lessons have been learned
In that short time we thought was long.
And now that these sweet days have gone,
I’m having trouble moving on.
So slowly I am moving on,
Shocked, now that these sweet days are gone.
I’m trusting God but feel great pain
And wish I could these days retain.
While endless tears my face now stain,
I’m trusting God with this deep pain.
by Gwennon
December 1, 2018

Scathed, but Persevering

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Fatigue has turned me into limp spaghetti,
Ready to call it quits and leave the drama
Here to the stronger warriors on my team.
Battles leave me feeling weak and deadly small.
Tomorrow’s winning chants and glad confetti
Fade into blurred, distant hope. The sweet parades
Afforded returning heroes–the trauma
Of miserable, active battle falling
Away–these must be delayed now to allow
Total commitment of each precious resource.
I grieve, as I continue, for the fallen
Soldiers no longer able to fight. Wilder
Future battles beckon, to which I must go,
Unflinching, trusting God throughout the saga
Of an imperfect life, while Heaven afar
Calls, and prayers rise, and in God my help I seek.
by Gwennon
February 10, 2019