Poems Are Like Buds On A Tree

Poems Are Like Buds On A Tree

Poems are like spring days in winter's eye.
They cleanse our dulled eyes and brain.
They awaken our senses from a deep sleep.
They make us delight in the sound of words expressed.
They create images that express our true feelings.

We fall in love with poems.
We use poems to declare love.
We recite poems to those we adore.
We equate poems with a time and place and lost love.
We hunger for another poem to stir our soul.

Poems are small while novels are big, sometimes huge.
Poems carry more meaning then their weight in gold.
Sometimes novels are not worth the paper to print them.
Novels almost never are worth their weight in gold.
Poems do have more meaning then their weight in gold.

Poems represent good economy.
A huge product from so little material.
But the mental production progresses slowly.
Poems don't come from assembly lines.
Poems come from struggling words along a line.

Nursery rhymes are poems for mothers and babies.
And babies respond with coos, laughs and mimics.
Patriotic lyrics are musical poems for citizens.
And folks respond with tears, zeal and volunteering.
Gospel songs are poems for souls in search of God.

Poems are like buds on a tree.
Each bud has many tightly wrapped petals.
And each petal unpeels another thought
Each bud is a delight to the searching soul who finds it.
And each poem like each tree bud is a divine delight.


Joann Gariety Shipley
February 12, 2009

Reflections On 2008 Election

Reflections On 2008 Election

It is now truly over

the 2008 election.

So roll over in the clover.

The election, the election.

Just take a break.

No need to stay awake.

What a Dem procession

In this greatest election.

It is pure perfection!

The Bush days are numbered.

So give a great big cheer.

Barack is now unencumbered.

The change, the change

For John McCain

Still home on the range.

The change, the change

For Barack Obama

D.C. address rearrange.

For all the others in the race

You're down and out.

You're in disgrace with losing face.

Let it go, let it go.

Let it go, let it go,

The evangelical politics show.

From near and far

Scare tactics were heard.

In every American beer bar.

They drank Cindy's beer

And they talked and argued

But in the end the choice was clear.

America had made its choice.

No Republicans in D.C. offices

It spoke with a mighty voice.

No more scare tactics now.

And no crying in place

Since you lost the race.

But Obama is smart and kind.

He still needs your help

For the coming financial grind.

So put away all the buttons.

Throw the scare tactics away.

Here comes another work day.

Put on a very patriotic face.

And concede your deserved defeat.

Exit the Bush play with some grace.

Help make the transition easy.

Buck up, buck up, buck up.

Now's no time for queasy.

What an historic night! I haven't shed tears of joy like this since America in 1960 declared John F. Kennedy president-elect at 3:30 A.M. on Wednesday after the Tuesday election. God bless America. God bless Barack Obama. Now let's go to bed and get up to the first day of the presidential transition.

The Story of the Great Pumpkin Encounter

Grandma Tells Jack Aidan How She Encountered The Great Pumpkin In Virginia Jackie Bear: Grandma Be Quick and Tell Me The Story of the Great Pumpkin Encounter in Haymarket, Va.

Grandma: The Great Pumpkin Now Operates From The Blog World. The Great Pumpkin Is Like Santa Claus In That He Represents Big And Little Signs of Faith, Hope and Charity Thru Both The Telling of Tales and Fables and The Giving Of Gifts Of All Kinds.

Jack Aidan: So What Happened, Grandma, Did You Hear A Tale Or Get A Gift?

Grandma: I Opened The Front Door And Discovered A Big Box From Ohio Delivered By UPS.

Jack Aidan: Grandma,What Did You Do Then?

Grandma: I Opened The Box And Found Lots of White Plastic Nuts. Then I Dug Deeper Into The Box And Found That.

Jack Aidan: What Was That?

Grandma: Those Were Buckeyes Wrapped In Ohio Newspaper.

Jack Aidan: Was There Anything Else In That Box Besides Buckeyes?

Grandma: Yes, Jackie Bear, There Was More.

Jack Aidan: What Was It,Grandma?

Grandma: It Was A Framed Photo Of That Buckeye Tree In Fishing Guy's Yard And A Printout Copy Of The Buckeye Poem I Wrote Last Month As A Comment On Fishing Guy's Blog.

Buckeye Poem

Come to Ohio to see

Buckeyes thicker than flies.

Many kinds you will see.

One is a nice green tree

That grows up to the skies

With blossoms for a bee.

One is a football team

Scoring touchdowns way high

And winning with a scheme.

One has a wild fan club base.

When red and white colors fly

All Ohioans keep pace.

Here's to all the Buckeyes.

Columbus is the place.

Let football fly her skies.

And when the game is done

And Buckeyes leaves do fall

The Bucks are number one.

Jack Aidan: Golly, Grandma, The Great Pumpkin Does Exist And You Can Encounter Him In A Pumpkin Patch, Or In A Mum Bed Or In A Blog!

Grandma: Yes, You Can Jackie Bear. Now I'm Going To Have Your Grandpa Hang That Buckeye Photo And The Poem That Is In That Fancy Brown And Gold Frame Right Above Your Changing Table. That Way You Can Study It While Mommy Changes Your Diaper And You Can Remember That You Go Back In Family History To A Long Line Of Buckeyes!

Tune In Tomorrow For More Buckeye Photos And News Of The Great Pumpkin And How You Just Might Encounter Him Too.

I Have A Little Mushroom

I Have A Little Mushroom

I have a little mushroom.

He is about five inches tall.

He is living in my flower bed

With his funky see thru bottom

And his queer deep red head.

I have a little mushroom.

I do not know his name.

I do know he grows very fast.

I wonder if he is poisonous.

Others like him I killed in the past.

I have a little mushroom.

He is as strange as strange can be.

I do not know what to do.

The rabbits won't even touch him

So what am I suppose to do.

I have a little mushroom.

Here is his little mug shot.

Take a look at his scarlet face

Please, can you identify him?

Help me put him in his place.

I have a little mushroom.

I still don't know his name.

But Ohio Fishing Guy took a look

And gave me some good advice.

If rabbits won't eat, he's a fluke.

I have a little mushroom.

That Abe Lincoln couldn't identify.

Same for Wanda who hopped right over.

I can't add him to Patty's soup.

I'll leave him standing in the clover.

Click on photo to see the well lit rear end on this guy.