Make your life a living valentine.
February’s meant for couples—
Roses and romance,
And looks that say “I love you,”
Exchanged within a glance.
But what if I don’t fit that mold?
It doesn’t quite seem fair;
Are loneliness and heartache then,
All that I can share?
“Oh, no,” cries the wing-tipped cherub,
“Please don’t think so small.
Love’s not just for lovers;
Love is meant for all!”
I think I want a covered porch
On a big, ranch-style home—
Way out in the country
Where the horse and cattle roam.
Author note: I know, this one is kind of depressing. I promise the next one will be lighter!
Walking through this frail existence
In our peaceful promised land,
We heedless see the warnings
And fail to understand.
This Christmas I’m alone and single.
Sleigh bells ring with a hollow jingle.
The bells, you see, aren’t quite as fun
When they ring-ding-jingle just for one.
In your hurried holidays, do you hear the voice that pleads?
It comes from ancient ages, it tells what Christmas needs.
Author note: This poem was originally written two years ago. I realize that Thanksgiving was unique this year. However maybe we can use this to remember the good times past and hope for better times to come. . . .
This year the feast is at your house, and you will be the host.
You want it to be perfect, but not so you can boast;
It’s just with all the family, there will be quite a crowd
And you want serve a special meal to make the Pilgrim’s proud!
Worthless, crumpled little leaf—
Cast off without a care;
Set upon the listless wind,
Carried here and there.
You’re not but nature’s clutter
To disgrace a pristine lawn;
The only want we give you
Is we want you good and gone!
And the Lord within the Manor
Sees you only as a chore;
He’ll have to rake and bag you
Which is irksome all the more.
The drought was getting serious,
The situation bleak,
And for the want of sustenance
The village was getting weak.
And the thing that was most needed,
On the hot and thirsty plain,
Was a life sustaining downpour—
A good old-fashioned rain.
In this earth’s existence, it’s 11:59,
Yet the world races onward, like everything is fine.
And people seem to say “Eat, drink, and let’s be merry!”
Even the “faithful” dally with, “We see the bridegroom tarry.”
Once Upon A Rhyme 