Category Archives: Freeform Friday

Freeform Friday: limerick: “Man with Waders”

There once was a man with waders
Who thought he might find him some gators
down at his creek,
where the trash did seep
left often by unkind invaders.

On October 13th, a Saturday,
folks like you will come to play
from nine until noon
and not a moment too soon
to pick up trash and put it far away.

So come to First Creek and discover
“treasures” left by some unkind others:
shopping carts and flat tires,
pay phones, couches, and wires
and stuff that the creek tries to smother.

Bring tools and gloves for your hands;
pick up trash for as long as you can.
Once done, we will eat
Harby’s Pizza and Three Rivers’ treats
and be glad we helped the creek and the land.

A man and his waders

A man trying on waders: Ask not by whom the trash will be picked up. The trash will be picked up by you.

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Freeform Friday: Ramparts of Obscurity

I stand on the ramparts of tautology
Forever eschewing any hint of scatology.
But don’t ask me this fine day
To bind my obfuscations away.

For where o’ where would I be
If I could not in confidence convolute thee?
Oh, where o’ where, pray tell
Would my alliterations have place to dwell?

I am but a humble servant of words
Trundling through this world of the absurd.
A land of regret full of monsters who fete
On a mind that will now be quiet.

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Free form Friday: “If I could tell you.”

If I could tell you that it was always darkest before the dawn
And it would matter,
I would.

If I could tell you that pain is a sign of healing
And it would make a difference,
I would.

If I could tell you that the healing of a broken heart will only make it stronger
And it would mean something to you,
I would.

If I could hold you and rock you and whisper that you will be okay
And you will be.
I would.

But whether I tell you these things or not, they will happen.
Some now,
Some later,
Some all at once,
Some in stages,
Some as time permits,
Some as you make the time.

You are not alone,
You are not forgotten,
And you are loved.
These are yours, too.

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Freeform Friday: “A Pillow”

A pillow here,
a pillow there,
a pillow skyward
into the air.
A cloud up there
it may not be
nor a marshmallow
for me to see.
A pillow here,
a pillow there,
off the bed to
the floor I share.
I wrestle nightly
with my pillows.
At times they feel
like armadillos.
Curled tight as
if to protect
many dreams and
a few regrets.
A pillow here,
a pillow there,
if you ask nice
I might just share.
But my dreams
are mine to keep;
they bring comfort
while I sleep.

A pillow here, a pillow there

A pillow here, a pillow there. If you ask nice, I might just share.

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Freeform Friday: Haiku: “Fall”

Brown among the green,
Mower mutters over grass.
Fall beckons the leaves.

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Freeform Friday: “Oh, my … Outlook”

Oh, my poopy Outlook
Oh, what can I say?
It lives its life upsetting
me both night and day.

I tried to get if fixed so its
problems would be put away.
But masterful ministrations
won’t keep all its issues at bay.

I sit at my desk and wrestle
with one issue or the next.
Oh, my poopy Outlook,
your outlook has me vexed.

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Freeform Friday: Limerick: “Lady from Roane”

There once was a lady from Roane
who could have fun even while being alone.
She’d let her fingers do the walking
and cries of joy do the talking
by herself or sometimes on the phone.

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Freeform Friday: “I once was blue, too”

[Editor’s note: “I once was blue, too” was written a bit tongue in cheek in response to a friend on Facebook who changed his profile photo to an all-blue photo. I have included it here. After writing it and reading it, I think it holds up fairly well, so I thought I would post it here to annoy a few more people.]

Blue hue

What do you see in this wild blue yonder?

I once was very blue

then one day I saw you

and because of your blue hue

I could no longer be blue, too.

When asked if this was true,

I said what else could I do?

Next, I tried being red

but it all went to my head

and it filled me with fiery dread.

What else could be said?

I then tried being green,

but it was the worst I’d ever seen

so bad as to be obscene

Everywhere I went, I made a scene.

I tried be being yellow

a sallow looking fellow

Not too bright and not too mellow

Still people wanted to bellow.

Up next, I tried being gray

and though on my beard it did stay

I sent the rest of it away.

I’ll deal with it another day.

Other colors I tried, too:

purples, oranges, and violet brews

but none fit me quite like blue.

But what else was I to do?

I could not be as blue as you.

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Freeform Friday: “Moon in my pocket”

The night rests quiet
with the moon in my pocket:
a frame for my love.

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Freeform Friday: “Each drop”

When I hear from you no more,
the rains will speak your name
and each drop will be a memory of you.

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