Poetry

I love poetry.
At least I like writing it.  Not reading it.  Well sometimes I do.  It depends.  Was that even a sentence?  Yes it was.  There was a noun.  And a verb.  "It" was a noun.  A subject actually.  "Depends" was the verb.  A verb is an action.  I'm getting off subject.  Ok.

And now, you will get the joy of looking at my poetry:  Noelle's favorites.

Weather

By Noelle Matherne

Sunny

beautiful, warm

laughing, loving, strengthening

- sun, moon, clouds, rain -

pouring, beating, thundering

dark, scary

Rain

What is Love?

By Noelle E. Matherne

Snuggles with a puppy,

Smiles and tickling,

A special dinner, made just for you,

Zurburts and jokes after 8:00 o’clock,

Date nights out with Daddy,

Friendship,

Hugs and playdates with friends,

Family warmth,

A game played by the family together,

Hugs and kisses, made just for you,

A sunset painting, staring out to sea,

A present and card on Mother’s Day,

Eggs and bacon at 9:00 in the morning,

Happy giggles,

Wrestling-just for the fun of in,

A quiet walk with the red maples and yellow scribe trees all around,

Passion,

Games of hairstylist after chores,

Friendly quarrels over nerds,

Tuck-ins,

Love.

Leggerwoky

By Noelle E. Matherne

Twas morning and the slimy toads,

Did splish and splash in the pool.

The life guard watched the happy droves,

And the fish held swimming school.

“Beware the two-leggers, my son!

Feet that stomp!  Hands that catch!

Beware their dog and shun

The enormous cats that scratch!”

He took his minnow in his fin,

And out he lifted the fish,

Dried him off up to his chin

And seated him with a squish.

And as he dried his sturdy fins,

A two-legger, with fingers wide,

Came shrieking down with pasty skin,

Then turned and fled to hide!

First one, the two peeked out in fear,

Then with a dawning glee,

Returned at last, the coast was clear!

They did not have to flee!

Twas morning and the slimy toads,

Did splish and splash in the pool.

The life guard watched the happy droves,

And fish held swimming school.

The Grass Seed that Couldn’t Hold it’s Breath

By Noelle E. Matherne

There once was a little grass seed,

Who floated downstream on a reed,

Alas the stream was a circle,

And the seed turned quite purple,

Trying to commit such a deed.

With the blasts of sharp-bladed winds and flurries of ice, comes an artistic period in my life.  I seek my peace through the Japanese art of haiku, a rigid poem with three lines of pre-set syllables.

Winter.

Winter is the cold time.

Icy blasts of cool white snow.

I hope you are warm.

I have decided to dedicate this journal entry to haikus.  It will be filled with the poetic peace that comes from these delicate verses.

Blue Skies.

I adore blue skies.

Cloudless and sunny are they.

Nature at its best.

Leaf.

Leaves fall down down down

Their trees grow red, brown, then green.

One falls on my face.

Package.

Packages stand there.

Boxes waiting to be open.

What do you hold, bin?

As you might already know, haikus are made with three lines.  The first and third line have five syllables, and the second has seven.  The haiku form of poetry (allow me to enlighten you) was used by the Japanese poet Matsuo Basho.  Basho had many followers, and had a tendency to wander Japan for first-hand inspiration for his writing.  Haiku can also be spelled hokku.

White

Snow, kittens, paper.

There’s white in everything.

Putty, soap, my door.

Waterfalls.

Blue splashing down rocks.

Moss and trickling water.

Sparkling and peaceful.

Gone.

I have to leave now.

I will come back tomorrow.

See you then I guess?