Poem For Jingles Thursday Poetry – Gerardine Baugh

If I Were Kate Gosselin…~Or, Poem for Thursdays Jingles Poetry Rally!~

gbaugh — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 21:01:32 +0000

I am not Kate Gosselin

I don’t have eight kids

Really! I don’t! Believe me, I looked!

My divorce was never on the internet

Or television, or in the tabloids

Could have been…

At one point I did a walk-on for Jerry Springer

I was working, installing a sign

Across the street from where they were taping

Up on a building, standing on a ladder..

They asked me to be the jealous girlfriend

Does that count?

If I was Kate Gosselin

I would have a reality show

Dance across the screen

And hit the talk shows…

Wait!

I’m still looking for those eight kids

They have to be around here somewhere!

Uriah told me

To stop being silly and

Take his picture please

Poem-Pussy Cat Playing With Pussy Willows~Spring Is Blooming!~

gbaugh — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 19:57:21 +0000

Pussy, pussy pussycat

Playing with the

Pussy, pussy Pussy Willows

Pushing pulling at the soft tips

Knocking off their nails

Grabbing the branch and tipping the vase

Making for a perfect Pussy Willow race

Across the kitchen floor, under the rugs

Swept up in the fun of a catkins chase

Slipping, sliding bouncing off the walls

Finally tuckered out and surrounded

By Pussy Willow tails

The pussy, pussycat

Falls into his catnap garden

Chasing his dreams with

Pussy Willow sticks

When I took these pictures, I had to keep telling Sano, “don’t touch!” As soon as I put away the camera he knocked over the vase and started playing.

The vase is on the floor because no one would stay away from it as it sat on the table. Safer on the floor!

Poem for Jingles Thursday’s poet Rally:-)

Beneath the Willow~Poem For Jingles Thursday Poetry

gbaugh — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 02:12:25 +0000

Beneath the Willow

I lay inaccessible and supine beneath my Willow

Her naked branches pull me upward

in a flurry of color, waves of light

She drops her clothing to cover her roots

Her muse once led my soul

Now, She whips at my stone

Dancing in the timbre of sunshine

Fire amidst rustling autumn foliage

I drift deep into the cold ground

Shimmering fall leaves bury me

fighting the march of winter

Prelude to the intake of biting air

Willow will sleep quietly

raining bitterness and delight

Blending…

of dried leaves, verdure and decay

Tang of freshly turned mud and dusty soil

She taunts me, coating my name with leaves

Burning embers, flashes of destruction

Move closer, She will burn

Does She Understand this…

Having no choice I am inside the flame of colors

Staring upward spinning blue, against white

She crashes to earth in a storm of orange…

Arcing, vivid orange, photosphere, blindingly

A searing prism

A golden illumination

An autumnal equinox

Her aroma full of passionate ecstasy

Willow, whispers of the changing winds

Listen you will hear her laughter at my entrapment

Roots dig deep, tearing into my sides as She reigns from above

I am… This volatile collision

A menagerie swept together of bitter green and biting hot

All but a memory of light and life

Shifting beneath a path of sweet promise

Willow worries not for me

She will feed off my flesh

Ripping into my marrow

Until I disintegrate into the cold ground, forever supine…

I posted this for Jingles Thrusday Poetry- I wrote it for the writers site I belong to, it was for their picture contest- October 2008. I added the picture that was used for that contest.