Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Cosmic Phoenix

At the end of every poem
space fills the begging page,
a void in this poet’s mind
whirling in a growing cage.

“So little done, so much to do,”
echoes doubtful muse of mine.
“Why can’t I set you free
Cosmic Phoenix so divine?”

@laurie kolp

*Prompt inspiration: Carry On Tuesday, “So little done, so much to do.” ~Cecil Rhodes

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Stormy Nights Forgotten

so heavy they hurt
they cloud reality
blow the time away
a tornado from the blue
sprawled out on the dirty floor
she fuels her moods with songs
melancholy, broken, dark
songs of lost loves, cheating liars
over and over again
she sits
she listens
she rocks
the violent storms flood
blinding rain, tears of pain
an emotional balloon is she
until the hurricane hits
turns thunder
spurns rage
eyes, those eyes
they know
dusk turns to dark turns to dawn
sunshine peaks through, cheer
offers hope after the rain
the pain last night forgotten
she wonders why her head hurts
so heavy
these moods

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations: Jingle poetry and  Poetry Jam

My Sunday Offerings

Insatiable Liaison

Against the tangerine leaves
Plum sky silenced, turning
Twilight looms afraid
A cry of broken tails
Beneath the shadowed flock
Remnants of the fire
Like wind planets fallen
We lie beneath tomorrow’s smoke
Our love striding to meet again
Flying free we float as one

@laurie kolp

*Prompt inspirations: A Whirl of Wordling Sundays, Sunday Scribblings


forgotten rose petals
shadowed beneath a colorless void, pink
silk on pebbled memories

@laurie kolp

*Prompt inspiration: Poetic Bloomings

Saturday, May 28, 2011

*Refreshing wind slaps my sweaty cheeks.*

Prompt inspiration: Six Word Saturday

What do you notice from the ringside seat?

Why wear flip-flops on a nature trail?

Summer is upon us, another school year come and gone. It zoomed by like a day at an amusement park; ups and downs of defeat and disappointment, dizzying days of strep throat and bronchitis, warped illusions sometimes reflecting false intentions. Even though some rides were better than others, overall the year was good. The kids had caring, challenging teachers and excelled, which is the greatest adrenaline high of all.

Everyday I waited in the carpool line for my children's release from school. I wanted to be near the front, so I waited quite a while. I used the cherished time to read, write, work crossword puzzles and catch up with friends on the phone. I also witnessed some bizarre behavior (great fodder for poetry). Here are some of the highlights:

1. Cheaters (and they wonder why their children get in trouble all the time). They are like weasels who cut to the front of the line. They show up minutes before the bell and park wherever. Some park across the street and jaywalk, even though the principal has forbidden that. Others pull their children out before the final bell. I often wonder where their entitlement comes from.

2. Exhibitionists. They show up in their shorter than short shorts, jogging bras smiling with bleached white teeth that contrasts well against their tanned skin. What an example they are setting for the children who have to follow the dress code.

3. Social butterflies. They gather at cars or huddle in groups like high school cliques at lunchtime. Their preschoolers run amok, sneak sips out of whatever is in that insulated cup and smile. They run into the building and are sent back out without their chatty caretaker's knowledge.

4. Just plain old jerks. They hold up the line or refuse to move lest their grandchildren might not be able to find them. Some even yell at teachers who try to move traffic along, then shake their heads when they finally leave.

5. Misfortunes. Poor parents who come back from field trips looking as if they stepped off Disney World's Tower of Terror. They started out fresh all dressed in their sundresses and flip-flops, with French manicured toenails on show. Then they come back sunburned and covered in bug bites. Did they not get the memo to wear sneakers for the hike through the woods?

I really could go on and on, but I would rather hear from you. What, if any, type of bizarre behavior have you observed? It could be at the mall, on vacation, or wherever you want it to be. I will highlight the most unusual one on an upcoming post.

Serene Symphony

Image by Michael Maier, German surrealist
Melodic dreams
Heaven's serene symphony
Wash ashore these troubled times
Let mind, body, spirit unearth your fear
Hypnotic wings in harmony sing 
Fly on high transparency
You, me

@laurie kolp

{Prompt inspiration and image: Writer's Island}

Friday, May 27, 2011

You Have a Friend in Chocolate

A party was in order
the last Lamaze class now complete,
so they gathered in a restaurant;
men to drink, the women eat.
Everything was chocolate
covered pancakes, bacon too
salad dressed in semi-sweet
crispy rice granola chew.
Meanwhile on the other side
weary men sat at the bar
commiserating moodiness
and if they’d gone too far.
By the time the night was over
neither side could move a lick,
women were crashed from sugar’s high
drunken men bowled over sick.
So if you ever wonder why
chocolate stays women’s best friend;
unconditional is their love
satisfaction ‘til the end.
@laurie kolp

*Prompt inspiration

Cloudy with a Chance of Mackenzie

Mackenzie thought she was a cloud
Sometimes fluffy or wispy or loud.
She’d flit through the house,
Roaring words she’d douse--
Like weather uncertain, but proud.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Theme Thursday

Thursday, May 26, 2011

How to make comments on Blogger sites

Dear Google/Blogger/blogspot.com,

Are you okay? I can tell that you have been under the weather lately. Whenever I try to comment on other people's blogs, you regurgitate all over me. I sign in under the profile as a Google Account user and am led on a circuitous rigmarole, even when I follow the blog on which I want to comment.

Please find a way to stop spreading your noxious germs.

Yesterday I went through the tedious process of being redirected to the Blogger Sign-In page whenever I tried to comment on friends' blogs. I had to type my user name and password and was directed back to the comment box, where I had to type in the code and press send several times. Imagine my frustration when I landed back on the Blogger Sign-In page and had to go through the process all over again! When I thought I had finally beat your disease after three tries, my comment was signed Anonymous.

You really need to check your medication.

I have found a way around your shenanigans, though. First, the setting for comments on my blog is set as a Pop-Up Window. Second, I allow Anyone to make comments, not just Registered users (the code weeds out spammers). Another safety measure I practice when possible is that when I comment, instead of signing in as a Google Account user, I scroll down and click on the Name/URL option. These minor adjustments have helped alleviate your irksome plague. I hope other Bloggers will do the same.

Please get better soon. I would hate to lose you.


Laurie Kolp
Editor, Conversations with a Cardinal and Conversations with Laurie

Texas Drought

weary blue

treks through desert heat--

oasis here I come

@laurie kolp

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

The Bus from Nowhere

A deserted road dusty
barbecue in the summer sky,
alone she frets and paces
growing fears petrify

until the old school bus,
a mirage, does appear
old and frail the driver
an invitation full of cheer.

Bombarded when she climbs aboard
fragrant pleasures titillate,
a sense of peace encompasses
as warming vibes stimulate.

From the empty depths magnetic
an unkempt stranger does allure
in a second, she’s beside him
no longer lost, she is sure.

The dream, the trip, the memories
a greyhound on the run--
when at last she landed home
she knew He’d sent his son.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Carry on Tuesday

Monday, May 23, 2011

Sunday Scribblings: Better Late Than Never

In a second
Everything changes
And nothing is the same
A tornado swooshes through
Splits the town in two
And nothing is the same
An accident touches sweet lives
Comfort tumbles down steep stairs
And nothing is the same
Decisions made in haste
Deep scars cannot erase
And nothing is the same
A prayer is offered
(It only takes a second)
And nothing is the same

@laurie kolp
Prompt inspiration: Sunday Scribblings

Sunday, May 22, 2011

My brush with plumage

Imagine my surprise when I touched a dove. It was quite unexpected and really took me by surprise. I had noticed the peaceful presence on my front porch the day before when I was checking the mail. I opened the door and there he was. I hadn't even scared him off. He simply went on with his business as usual, and then waddled away. Little did I know I would later meet him on a more personal level.

The next time I came in contact with the grey bird was when I opened the door that goes from my home to the garage. I didn't see him at first; I touched him... with my toes. When I stepped out, my foot brushed up against what felt like a soft pillow of feathers. I had no idea what I had encountered, so my heart started racing. Was a mouse that close to the house? I opened that door hundreds of times a day because not only do I get to my car that way, but the washing machine and dryer is in the garage. Nothing had ever come that close to the door, but I had seen an 'EEK' mouse once. Had I kicked a mouse? My adreneline soared like the summer heat in Texas.

Fortunately, when I looked down I saw the tame dove. He flitted his wings a little (I'm sure I scared him as much as he scared me), but then started meandering away from me like before. I tiptoed from a close distance behind him to make sure he wasn't hurt. I could see no sign of injury or wing problem. He marched on out of the garage, down the driveway and to the bushes. I haven't seen him since... but I'm waiting.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Writer's Island

Icy Relief

A school carnival
Kids spread like wildfires
In the sizzling Texas sun, bacon
Bouncing off the concrete slab
Drops of sweat a salty treat
As one mom works the relay booth
Her skin pancakes on the griddle
Until another mom shows up
And chills the air for everyone

@laurie kolp
*Prompt inspiration: Writer's Island

Friday, May 20, 2011

Rapture... or raptor?

rapture (n): 1. ecstatic joy or delight  2. religious or spiritual ecstasy  3. (Archaic) the art of carrying off

So, what is this "rapture" everyone's talking about? If it really is a celebration of the end of the world for those who believe they won't be saved, shouldn't it be called something else like raptor?

raptor (n): any of numerous carnivorous birds that hunt and kill other animals

A real rapture party would be a celebration of eternal life. The revelers would not be gathering together because of a crazy prediction from an 89-year-old man. Only God knows when the world will end, so these rapturers would enjoy each day; making each one as important as the last. In fact, spiritual beings experience rapture quite frequently by doing the right thing (or at least trying to) and making amends when they mess up. These ecstatic partiers also help one another when possible. This is called living a spiritual life and the celebration's ongoing.

On the other hand, a raptor party would be more appropriate for those who believe May 21, 2011 is Judgement Day. These suckers are being duped by an egotistical zealot. Some will sell their homes, give away fortunes, possibly even kill themselves because of this satanistic (or perhaps terroristic?) fallacy. Maybe they will rack up credit card debt or try their hands at something new.

Which is what I witnessed today. My amazing family had given me a gift certificate for a pedicure on Mother's Day, so I decided to cash in on this rapturous joy. I think everyone else had the same idea. The place was packed. I even saw two grown men sitting in the big massaging chairs; their feet soaking in water, hands in little pink bowls.

One reminded me of Bill Murray. He looked like an oafish teddy bear in that vibrating chair with his hairy legs sprawled out, one arm waving in the air. He was joking with the oriental lady about what was for dinner and when could he come. She slapped his hand like a nun would a belligerent student. Ole' Bill shut up real fast.

The other guy, who was younger and much more GQ, had a sly grin on his face the whole time. He was wearing a baseball cap (to disguise himself, I'm sure). I think GQ must have been drunk. I made eye contact with him once and his face reddened. I think he was merely Bill's tag-along. I did overhear the conversation turn to alcohol, so my active imagination surmised they were going to be partying like it was 1999.

And Me? Well, I'll just stay home with my family, maybe go to 5:00 Saturday night mass. But I don't believe all that mumbo jumbo. Do you?

Sick of Those Silly Ole' Love Songs

Put out your torch songs
Because I hate the way you lie
And love won’t keep us together
When you jilt me for a guy

Love is never deep enough
To build an endless bridge
It never feels like I’m in love
You push me off a ridge

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Jingle Poetry, One Stop Poetry

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

PA prompt: Tell it like it is

That Sick

For years she watched him
that strong boy, muscled and fit
lifting table chairs a piece of pie
an acrobat on the trampoline
arm wrestling as if with dolls.

That sly smile can’t deny
the bile suspicions,
budding resemblance--
that square jaw, that slender gap.

Until at last she knew the truth

With that familiar backwards glance
and “I’ll be back,”
in that thick Austrian accent known by all.

Yes, but would she?

@laurie kolp

Poetic Asides

3 Word Wednesday

Psyche, You’re It

Incensed nonsense,
insane thoughts s - k - i - d
like a child’s muddy shoes--
dampened recesses
of a troubled mind.

@laurie kolp
3WW: skid, incensed, damp

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Carry On Tuesday

Say No to Hate, Yes to Love

everyone, everywhere
pointing fingers, cursing names
who did what when where how why
full of hatred, full of blame
I see it in the schoolyard
shopping malls and county seats
he said she said we said they
blah blah blah- it’s grave deceit
each day we have a brand new choice
to live this way or not
after all tomorrow is another day*
it may be all we’ve got
so try, just try this once
compassion, love and grace
in every new endeavor
let’s put a smile on each face

@laurie kolp

Carry on Tuesday prompt this week was to use the famous line (or part of it) from Gone With the Wind in a poem.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Mag 66

The ESSENCE of Books

Eight erect epics
Shelved scholary spines
Surreal somber summaries
Every essay expanding
Nostalgic narrative
Critiqued, caressed columns
Everlasting epitaph

@laurie kolp

Magpie Tales Monday

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Sunday Prompts

The Infusion of Anxiety

A hunched-back silhouette
filtered through textured
curtains in the rural cabin
across Mason Bridge. Smoky
wisps floated out the red
brick chimney, brandishing
the clean air apple. Walking
miles on end without reprieve,
the broken man decided to stop
and ask for a bite. A wrinkled
lady answered on the third
knock; said yes, he could eke
out a homemade meal. Slurping
salty soup, he recognized
the canned chicken taste,
thick noodles, zesty flavor.
The down-trodden man grinned
and winked his knowing eye.
Tension lifted like fog, two
lonely souls talked the night
away. Protective shields
they surrendered and let
new friendship blossom.

@laurie kolp

A Whirl of Wordling Sundays         Sunday Scribblings

PA Poetic Challenge: The Bop

Breaking through Curtain Walls

Hands of peaks and valleys pale
slushy feet long for grass and sun.
A whirlybird in a swivel chair,
its sweaty seat like chewed-up gum.
I talk, no snaps; furry ears perk up.
I am alone, I want to run.

Isolation is the wall I’ve built.

As a child I spent lonely sprees
safe within my castle door. Yellow
curtains offered sunshine, bright
comfort. Crisp and clean tranquility
when all around was war. Branching
out I tripped on roots time and
time again. Like a ricochet I shied
away, dying with each backwards step.

Isolation is the wall I’ve built.

I drank and ate and sexed myself,
eroding secrets termites to my soul.
Until I raised my arms, asked for help.
Levitating pesky ghosts, letting go--
no longer fueled by fear. Now when left
all by myself, my God is with me near.

Isolation is the wall I’ve built.

@laurie kolp

*To find out more about the Bop form and contest rules, visit Poetic Asides.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Why wait?

And now I wait. It really IS the hardest part, you know. Especially when the wait is l--o--n--g.  "Patience is a virtue," my mother always told me (in a sing-songsy voice) when I was growing up. I used to say the same words to my students when I was teaching. Now I say it to my own children. But the cliche is so passé in this day and age. I mean, who has to wait for anything anymore? Our society has become  like a stepped-on ant bed. We are the (fire) ants scattering about in a million different directions seeking immediate gratification. Need a new read? Fresh material is just a click away. Need to reach someone? Call, text, Twitter, Skype. The options are endless 24/7. Everything is at our fingertips. Except when it comes to one thing. Before I tell you what it is, let's stop for a minute.

What does "Patience is a virtue" really mean?

According to my handy old Webster's dictionary, patience means the quality of tolerating delay, provocation, annoyance without complaint or anger; and virtue is morality, goodness or uprightness; a special type of goodness.

I guess it means to be good while you wait. Well, if you want to learn how to be patient like that, then become a writer. Sometimes you have to wait for eons before you hear back from editors. And you must be good while you wait because you don't want to piss them off.

So I sit. I wait. I check my email every fifteen minutes. And I write. Such is the life of a writer.

What do you find difficult to wait for?

Writer's Island: Superstition

State of Fate

a ripple effect
choices made

highways travelled
detours taken
battles fought
morals shaken

fences mended
words unspoken
faith shattered
vows broken

loving life
ignoring hate
accepting, forgiving--
the state of fate.

@laurie kolp

Writer's Island

Friday, May 13, 2011

Big Tent's Final Prompt

My dogs Jake and Snowy

It’s a Dog’s World

Sassy’s master tried to train her well:

Sit, Sassy!
Demanding that she sit and stay
Fetch, Sassy!
Tossing tennis balls for her retrieval
Heel, Sassy!
Teaching her to walk on his left side

And this is what he got:

Sassy ran right past him
In pursuit of squirrel-teases
As fuzzy yellow balls rolled on by
Sniff! Sniff!
Sassy stopped every fifth step to do her business
Getting lost in the leash’s tangled mess
Wag! Wag!
Sassy greeted happy friends and visitors with jumps of joy
Wet kisses and a thump-thumping tail

I guess the saying’s true:
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

@laurie kolp

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” was originally coined by E.C. Brewer in 1898.

Big Tent Poetry will be missed tremendously. I wish everyone the best in their endeavors. I'll be seeing you around!

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Wednesday prompts: 3WW and Poetic Asides

A Taste of Forbidden Fruit

You managed to bring up
ugly politics and brandish
us a fool; at the dinner
table, no doubt. Did you
ever listen to Mother?

@laurie kolp

3WW words- forbid, manage, brandish

Pay Attention in Times Square, Lady

Under a cheap umbrella
I stood in Times Square
when it started to rain
that popped out of nowhere.

I knew you were close
yet lost in the crowd,
ants scurrying about-
dense streets, noise loud.

That’s when I saw you
hurrying along with the flow,
you wore panic well
failed to notice below

a cement pole, waist high
you ‘smack’ ran right into,
must have hurt like hell
but you moseyed on through.

@laurie kolp
Poetic Asides

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Tell Me Why

To drool in the company of another
As she pokes and prods in your mouth

Talking gibberish and gobbledygook
While pulling your chin to the south

Then sticking a fist and cold metal
On your seemingly red-carpet tongue

Scoping things out like a treasure chest
As if probing a cushion for one

All the while expecting answers
While my mouth remains ajar

Why do these candid teeth cleaners
Take conversation that far?

From the dentist's chair

Yesterday a dark cloud formed and showered me with a sense of dread. Six months had passed and it was time for my teeth cleaning. Excuses formed in my head as I searched for a justifiable reason to cancel the appointment. There was none. But I did have one card in my favor; Katie was scheduled at the same time (with another person). Maybe if my hygienist knew I had to hurry up and get Katie to school, she might not talk as much. Or perhaps the pressure would be so great as she competed for first place against the other lady that she would not dilly dally. I was hoping.

Instead, I found myself sitting in the dentist chair at 9:00 with a heavy bib on my chest and a whiter-than-white smile glaring down at me. My lady stood there for a good five minutes filling me in on all of her kid's escapades since our last get-together; graduation, college, class trips, blah, blah, blah.

"What do you have on your agenda for the day?" She finally asked.

"Getting Katie to school so she doesn't miss too much."

This made her step of out the room, remote in hand, but she kept on talking. As she clicked the x-ray button she asked me a question. I nodded.

"Oh, no! Did you move? You need to be absolutely still during the x-ray," she chided.

"I'm pretty sure you had already pushed the button," I answered.

"Oh, well. If it doesn't turn out we'll just have to do it over. Silly me."

Then she proceeded to clean my teeth. She reminded me of Glinda the Good Witch from Wizard of Oz, full of sparkly glee as she waved her magic wand. Cleaning instruments were forced into my opened mouth as she continued talking and asking questions with an animated voice.

"What are y'all doing this summer?" She asked.

"Uh, eh oe no," I managed.

"That sounds familiar," she said as she flitted around from one task to the next.

"Aa beh," I said.

Then she divulged in a sweet story about a boy who spoke at her daughter's school. He had such an amazing story, he shouldn't be alive. Everyone was in tears when he was finished talking, my lady said.

That's fine, but let's get done with this! I raised my arm and looked at my watch.

"We're done sweetie. It's been so good talking to you."

"Yes, it has. See you in six months." Thank God. I went to get Katie, grateful to be finished at the dentist. (But my teeth still aren't as white as my lady's).

Monday, May 9, 2011

Magpie Tales Monday

Traffic Lights

Sublime, signals
The peace that calls doves home
Green, notice
Carries tender souls to rest
Yellow, listen
Do you hear them call your name?
Red, stop
Before 'puff' they fly away
Signals, sublime

@laurie kolp

Magpie Tales Monday prompt

Sunday, May 8, 2011


His True Calling

Briny water splashes waves against the dock.
Mother Ocean’s breeze moistens leathered
skin. Salt sprays slap his contented face.
A thin layer cracks fissures in dry lips.
Wafts of rotten shrimp, slimy fish guts.
Discarded bait like incense burns.
Childhood memories up in smoke.
One tarnished past fades away.
A state of mind. Water is his refuge,
his true calling. Standing at the ocean’s
edge once again. His thin and lanky frame
a pillar. On the horizon a ship appears, moves
closer, docks. Has it really been two hours?

@laurie Kolp

Prompts: Poetic Bloomings and Sunday Scribblings

Saturday, May 7, 2011

The Big Day

Another milestone was reached today when Nicholas received his first communion. I must confess, it brought tears to my eyes. His out-of-the-norm quiet voice reading from the altar, his baby soft hands  motioning as he sang Taste and See, and his animated face tasting the wafer and wine for the first time were sentimental moments never to be forgotten.

It seems like every time I turn around, we are back to this day. Every other year for the past six, one of the kids has partaken in this joyous event. The pictures below show each child's special day, starting with Katie, then Andrew and finally Nicholas. My how they have grown!

May 2007
May 2009
May 2011
Confirmation here we come (in a couple of years).

Life's Hope

Season is the prompt over at Writer's Island. I love spring's fresh new growth, lighter in color and fragile as a newborn babe. One look at this one in my backyard and all I could see was...

Life's Hope

Spraying, splaying
Reaching skyward
A sago palm
New growth, green
Arms lifting, praying

@laurie kolp

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Big Tent poetry prompt

Big Tent Poetry’s prompt for this week was to take an old poem and revise it. This one was written two years ago when my middle child received his first holy communion. Since my youngest is doing the same thing this weekend, I thought it would be fun to work on it.

The Big Monument

Happy parents, friends and family
gathered together to proudly see,
their sweet young girl or boy
receive first holy communion with joy.
Flowers decorated the altar and pews
and everyone dressed in their best shoes.
Together they prayed in reverence
and watched with glee the innocence.
As each one took the bread and wine,
the choir sang glorious tunes divine.
After the service, all went to the hall
to celebrate with cake and pictures for all.
The day was a tremendously fine event,
one not to be forgotten; a big monument.

My revised version, as you can see, is completely different. Which one do you like better?

A Momentous Occasion

Together friends and family
gather in church pews, ends
decorated with innocent banners
 honorees made for the joyous
occasion. Proud parents beam with joy,
their bribed children sit in a straight
row, gelled hair combed just right;
some with wiggly toes seeking release
from confining shoes. Innocent girls
dressed in lacy white bridal-like
gowns, debonair boys donning dark
suits and ties wait in line to taste
their first holy communion and sip
sweet wine, while behind a forest
of fragrant Easter lilies adorns
the joyous altar. Reverent prayer
sings within the choir until the fine
event ends. Pictures are snapped,
refreshments served. Everyone
leaves the hall ready to change
into more comfortable clothes.

@laurie kolp

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

A sneak peek of what's to come

"One of the things I love about you, Mom, is you're special quality to love."

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world."

Yes, my baby says those flattering, melt-your-heart words. He's good that way. You know- smothering the female gender with compliments. I think he learned early on that sweet talk gets positive responses. Plus, he has an outgoing and lovable personality. Together those qualities make for quite the ladies man, I'm afraid. Just look at this:

Nicholas struck a pose without any prompt from me. Partly because he loves his new suit, but mostly because he's my future movie star. And Saturday, my baby is growing up one more way: he's receiving his First Holy Communion.

I have to tell you that this year has been... hmmm... entertaining? Because with first communion comes first confession, and Nicholas tackled that one in his cute, precious way (which was to be first in line and tell only the things he's done three times). He barreled out the door like a sly fox, smiling and strutting with a gleam in his eyes. I'm sure he gave the priest a high-five.

The culminating activity happens Saturday. My youngest will dress the part with pride, eat the bread expressively and drink from the cup with joy. He also gets to participate in a reading on the altar. I couldn't have asked for a better Mother's Day present than witnessing this spectacular event.

Stay tuned. More to come...

3 Word Wednesday prompt

3WW- grace, thin, jittery

For the Love of Sports (A cascade poem)

Grace never wanted to settle down
She much preferred a myriad of men
Spontaneity fueled her lustful desires

Striking: in with looks, out with luck
A playing field, she beat thin scores
Grace never wanted to settle down

Photo trophies saved on hard drives
All the conquests mere victories
She much preferred a myriad of men

The prime of her life, a star athlete
Grace welcomed jitters as basic warm-ups
Spontaneity fueled her lustful desires

@laurie kolp

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Innovative Haiku

1, 2, 3…

Honk!             Honk!

 ~to the beat~
    Honk!     Honk!

~a squirrel line dances~

@laurie kolp

Monday, May 2, 2011

Mother Nature

The Wrath of Nature Shatters Lives*

Powerful winds can desiccate
like speeding cars accelerate.
Hurricanes don’t sympathize,
the wrath of nature shatters lives.

Harmless eddies masquerade
and grow into a great brigade.
Tornadoes leave no time for lies,
the wrath of nature shatters lives.

Earth, the foundation of our home,
often becomes our catacomb.
Earthquakes smash all alibis,
the wrath of nature shatters lives.

Transforming waves can lure and thrill
oblivious to man’s free will.
Tsunamis haunt and victimize,
the wrath of nature shatters lives.

@laurie kolp

*This was written a while back. It placed 4th in Poetic Asides' Poetic Form Contest: Kyrielle (2010). In lieu of all the world-wide devastion lately, I wanted to share it with you.

Magpie Tales 64

A Mother's Instinct

With hackles up
Embers glowing
Mama bear protects
Eruption blowing

@laurie kolp