Christmas lessons & carols

At dVerse poets , we look back on 2025 for the last poetics prompt of the year…


Looking back in rearview mirror,

on events of past month of year,

swipe tissue under blurry eyes

and serve up slice of humble pie.

Sweet baby, born before her time,

fits beautifully in family line

but tiny heart anomaly

means coming home not yet to be.

God, in his wisdom, has a plan

higher than that of mortal man;

helpless we feel to watch and wait

while surgeon’s skills work delicate.

Magdalena will live her name

demonic power of death won’t reign;

her will to live is stubborn, strong

her parents, faith-full, walk along.

Grandparents care for brother, Gid

( and wonder at precocious kid! )

family and friends all watch and pray,

believe in miracles today!

debate is great, duel is cruel

Merril hosts dVerse poetics and (remembering the infamous headless horseman) encourages each of us to “hold on to your head!”

______________

when you strongly disagree
with either them (or maybe me)
…hold on to your head

when politics don’t seem to go
the way you think that they should flow
…hold on to your head

when the news sounds awfully bad
or reported stories make you sad
…hold on to your head

when nuance colors point of view
you recognize both sides are true
let common ground be found anew

whenever you are criticized
or favorite group is stigmatized
control yourself, be civilized

hear outrageous words you said—
you truly wish “those” people dead?
please…hold on to your head!

________________

taken in his time

A eulogy for our friend, Harlan Kooima, who died in farm accident while loading cattle…

______________

A farmer is a man with simple needs
who learns to follow weather in the skies
he watches corn grow tall from kerneled seeds
enjoys his morning coffee with the guys.

His wife beside him, faithful thru the years
she was his only chosen, youthful bride
and tho’ their troubles sometimes caused her tears
she listened to his stories, saved his pride.

They raised two lovely daughters, three strong sons
took them to church and taught them of God’s love
life on the farm made hard work seem like fun
grown green with rain and sunshine from above.

This farmer’s sudden passing came too soon
we’ll miss his presence here, his smiling eyes
he now whistles some bright celestial tune…
we trust God’s grace to keep us all our lives.

portent


while visiting town cemetery

i walk among the dead

dark crow caws loud atop pine tree

sound fills my mind with dread

anon, i heard another bird

sing sweet upon headstone

“his eye is on the sparrow”

means i will not die alone.


Civil War headstone photo by lynn__

faith in motion

life’s locomotive rumbles down track
with muscled horsepower multiplied
once it leaves station, cannot turn back
so one must trust train is well-supplied.

who is the engineer guiding this train?
he’s the one who knows the destination
he stays at throttle through sunshine-rain
brings it safely through line’s every station.

i know the conductor, he’s engineer’s son,
my worn ticket he will stamp and receive
i’ll travel with him till my journey is done;
holy faith-powered…you too can believe!

At dVerse poets’ pub, Punam invites us to travel by train. My oldest son worked as a train engineer and gave us this framed print which hangs in our home. “Santa Fe” is translated “holy faith”.

young and green

we each begin as young and green
like tender shoot and sapling lean

we’re curious and want to learn
what life’s about, to take our turn

to find the light, to make a friend,
to run away… come back again.

as we discover who we are
we wonder if we’ll reach that star?

this world broadcasts fearful voices
which lead us into foolish choices

thank God, in love, he reaches down
to rescue hearts and lost are found

as children listen to wisdom’s way
they grow up strong, learn to obey
and, best of all, know how to pray.

___________

Dora hosts dVerse with “young and green” prompt…I was going to write my own young and green memories but it turned into a homily for my grandchildren.

slumber party

slumber party hosted by famous bard?
i’ll sleep not a wink while genius sleeps hard
thoughts of sonnets and great theatrical works
poetic lore over snores, s’mores, and smirks;
in my warm flannels with hot cup of tea
i’ll dream of writing brilliant poetry!

_______________

Punam hosts our quadrille prompt (44 words) with slumber party theme 🙂

fort phantom hill

Our welcome may be silent but offered sincere
as you enter this quiet space, what do you hear?
Yes, the wind whispers or whips, depends on season,
’round lone chimneys…do you wonder the reason?
Several brick chimneys and two buildings of stone;
commissary and powder house, stand here alone.
We were young soldiers when we marched to this spot
and our work to build fort in west Texas proved hot.
A frontier fort to deal with new settlers’ problem
but after three years, fort burned and abandoned.
Civil war called us, and native peoples moved on…
leaving cannon and wagon, we’re long dead and gone.

____________

For Dora Hak’s “written in stone” prompt at dVerse Poets Pub.

boomers message to snowflakes

snowflakes melting on mittens
mewling like helpless kittens
half-grown, grad school bound
when will self-respect be found?

it’s tough world, you must be strong
such thin skin will not last long
not every insult’s in your face,
peace of mind is safest space!

______________

Bjorn hosts quadrilles at dVerse and is pouring hot chocolate for the poets today…comic courtesy of Brett Jordan at Unsplash.

don’t handicap us

it’s rude to stand at a distance and stare
but if you come closer, we’ll make you aware

we are people first, although may be disabled;
most of us people prefer not to be labled

our behavior sometimes causes confusion
we may choose to isolate yet desire inclusion

we offer perspectives that may surprise
listen and learn from us, grow to be wise

wheelchair is obvious or condition is hidden
but tolerance of barriers should be forbidden

yes, you may be healthy now at your age
but accident or illness can come on next page

all of us humans are differently able;
all of us humans deserve seats at the table

_________________

At dVerse poets today, Bjorn challenges us to meet the bar with any poem written for a cause in first person plural.

neigh of neighbors

busy husband beavering
with wood in a back shed
mothers catting back and forth
to catch young kits for bed
grandma rabbiting about
in garden’s warm black dirt
brothers squirrel round a tree
till one falls and gets hurt
sisters lark on swingset
sing songs with silly words
wee early morning’s quiet
except for beetling birds

______________

Sarah’s poetics prompt to use animal nouns as verbs…i had fun with rhymes as well 🙂

fox family

foxes build homes of cool earth;

burrows dug deep under changeable skies.

in dark den, a vixen gives birth,

to sightless pups who whimper where mom lies.

Creator God, to you all creatures raise myriad voices united in praise.

underground, newborn fox kits pass each hour

waiting for father who prowls, growling this night;

hunts by scent, stealthy as rare moon flower,

he fills cache with fresh meat before dawn’s light.

Creator God, to you all creatures raise myriad voices united in praise.

both reynard and vixen’s instinctual love

is needed to nurture each furry fox child

they protectively watch for danger above

and lead kits outside when weather grows mild.

Creator God, to you all creatures raise myriad voices united in praise.

___________________

This poem uses the end rhymes and similar refrain of hymn, “For the Beauty of the Earth”.

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