Creative work in progressgreenspun.com : LUSENET : FRL friends : One Thread
Summer warmth returns
Flowers face sun joyously
Bright colours smiling.
Trees begin to change
Rich yellows, golds, oranges
Replace summer's green.
Geese gather gladly
Practice flying formations
Soon to southern climes.
Children screech and run
Squeezing last fun from summer
School soon starts again.
Lon, will you grace us with some more of your wonderful poetry? Please? Or a story with/by Helen would be welcome! I guess we should let our Dear Author rest for just a bit :-)
-- Tricia the Canuck (email@example.com), August 25, 2002
Bump to new answers.
-- TtheC (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 25, 2002.
Oh, and Gayla, I know you can write, yet you so rarely do - got something you'd like to share?
Or any lurker - story, poetry, whimsy - any work in progress will do :-)
-- TtheC (email@example.com), August 25, 2002.
Accrding to she-who-must-be-obeyed, her bathroom and the painting of the back wall of the house are works-in-infinite-progress ....
-- Robert A. Cook, PE (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 25, 2002.
There once was a girl named Susan,
Who on the web went perusin'
The FRL to defend
Should greenspun meet its end
Unk's was the place of her choosin'. :-)
-- Gayla (email@example.com), August 25, 2002.
Well, if it's to be limmericks...!
Where's Sir Richard when you need him?
There once were some friends who met 'netting
Who created their very own setting
A dog name of Pat
Who started out a rat
And whose change occasioned much fretting.
Well, rats and beavers are both rodents... and I'm allowed some poetic license ya know!
-- TC (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 25, 2002.
LOL Tricia! Nice job! Women rule! (And Robert, thank "she who must be obeyed" for us, won't you?)
-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), August 26, 2002.
SNIPPING SPENT ROSES
She grew round
in the fullness of summer.
New life her pride in every waking
and in the quiet before sleep.
She had known him forever, and
for only a moment.
Yet the evidence of their meeting
was there, carried on her hips and
on the rising of breasts, swollen
like rose buds in the garden
she tended, her lips too, blushing
scarlet as the late summer bloom.
Come see, little one. Come
lay your hand just here
and feel the wonder that will be yours
on a day when the fallen petals
gather in summer winds.
-- Lon Frank (email@example.com), August 26, 2002.
Lon, that was lovely! I love your writing.
OK, Ms. Tricia, I wrote this today for you:
Streaks of pink, as the sun begins to rise,
I sip my coffee and try to open my eyes.
Five deer come quietly grazing along,
A Tanager nearby starts singing a song.
The river gurgles running over some rocks,
A beaver stacks logs like a child stacks blocks.
I linger a moment longer in the peaceful dawn,
Memorizing its beauty before I move on.
-- Gayla (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 26, 2002.
Great poetry, Lon and Gayla! Thanks!
-- Tricia the Canuck (email@example.com), August 26, 2002.
Look, it's turned yellow!
I guess I should turn left now
Who's that you call ditz???
-- Tricia teh Canukc (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 28, 2002.
What terned yellow?
Birds flying south towards Lon?
Or a leaf falling?
-- Robert A. Cook, PE (email@example.com), August 29, 2002.
(I think she just about sat through a traffic light.) ;-)
-- Honking Gayla ;-) (glad@I wasn't.behind you), August 29, 2002.
Hello all. I'm so glad to see you are back. Beautiful writing everybody. Sorry I can't contribute a poem, but I don't have a poetic bone in my body, I just appreciate other peoples' writing. Cheers.
-- Carol (insomniac@down under.com), September 03, 2002.
What? No bonetry?
One must try for poetry
Whatever the light.
-- Robert A. Cook, PE (firstname.lastname@example.org), September 05, 2002.
Ok Robert, I'm filled with guilt
So I'll stir my bones a bit
The trouble is, I'll get the spacing wrong
And you have previously explained it.
So if these lines are all joined up
And you think I didn't listen
Don't be cross, it's not my fault
I think a gene is missing!
-- Carol (C@oz.com.au), September 07, 2002.
Carol, you did a great job!
Now we'll teach haiku :-)
Five, seven and five
That is the syllabic count
Per line of haiku.
To write good haiku
Takes a little more than that
But we're not picky!
Autumn colours bloom
Yellow, orange and gold abound
Summer is ending.
-- Tricia the Cancuk (email@example.com), September 07, 2002.
Carol missing jeans?
Alas! A lack! Lucky loss ...
A lovely Lass!
-- Robert A. Cook, PE (firstname.lastname@example.org), September 08, 2002.
Me without my jeans!
A sight that's never been seen
I have awful knees.
Thank you for the explanation Tricia. Unfortunately I'm not good with pretty words, but I'm having lots of fun trying.
Also thanks to Robert, it's been many a moon since I was called a lass. What a treat.
-- Carol (email@example.com), September 09, 2002.
Walk by the river
Watch ducks ducking for their food
Bottoms sticking up :-)
Big green trees flourish
Shading river bank's sidewalk
You'll never guess what I did yesterday afternoon, right? ;-)
-- Tricia the Canuck (firstname.lastname@example.org), September 09, 2002.
I sang this for the mule:
Good morning mulish lumpkin!
How's the frost on momma's bumpkin?
I know I'm slow, but Mule, you're somethin'!
Pucker up, you hairy Pumpkin!
The mule was not amused either.
-- helen (email@example.com.IS.our.diet.program), September 10, 2002.
The mule needs a sense of humor! Helen, only you would kiss a hairy pumpkin. ;-)
-- Gayla (firstname.lastname@example.org), September 10, 2002.
LOL Helen! Too bad you don't have a midi file for your mule serenade! I'd love to hear you sing!
-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), September 11, 2002.
I'd rather see Helen in a mini-file rather than a midi-skirt .....
(Looks puzzled. Thinks a second ... )
Or maybe the other way around?
-- Robert A. Cook, PE (email@example.com), September 14, 2002.