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Posts Tagged ‘sadness’

The ugliest poem I have ever written.

I used to enter a lot of state poetry contests.  These contests would often have a new form of poetry listed, with rules all its own.  I enjoyed trying my hand at them but I did not always like the results.  This poetry form is called: Lil-Anne.

 

              THE PHONE CALL

 

She’d like to change the phone call’s sad event,

When the words heard, caused the sunshine to go.

She’d been enjoying the sweet yeasty scent

As she slowly kneaded the ball of dough.

 

                   Now, in pain, she

                   pummeled the dough

                   stopping only

                   to brush away tears.

 

The rest was done by routine long ingrained;

Rising dough, greased pans, loaves in the oven.

And it was the best bread she had made, but

She’d like to change the phone call’s sad event.

 

9/7/92                     Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

                             NOTE

Lil-Anne form … The ugliest poem I ever wrote.

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Whispers in my Mind

WHISPERS IN MY MIND

 

I heard her rocker creak today,

But not a soul was there.

The wind had rocked her chair.

Sometimes I think I hear her pray,

And I am sad to find,

Just whispers in my mind;

Gems my memory tucked away.

 

9/4/95          Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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WHO WILL LISTEN TO GRANDMA

 

She rocks away the lonely hours,

Sometimes a tear is shed.

And though her memories are alive,

No spoken word is said.

 

For who is there to talk to,

Near her old rocking chair?

There’s no one there to listen,

And no one seems to care.

 

Seems everyone’s so busy now,

For they have things to do.

So there’s no time for Grandma,

How sad that such is true.

 

Because her needs are very small

She asks no extra care,

And we all walk right on past her

As if she wasn’t there.

 

So her old heart weeps in sadness

Because she’s so alone.

She wonders why they do not stop,

And no concern is shown.

 

They mean to stop and talk to her,

At least that’s what they say . . .

But not just now, they can’t find time,

Perhaps another day.

 

So there she sits, a lonely soul,

Just rocking in her chair,

With hopeful heart, that you or I

Will show her that we care.

 

4/5/92       Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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