An Odd Ode


Not one to let a day go by without putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboards), here is an attempt at putting Covid-19 in perspective from my point of view.

Ode to Covid-19

It’s been nearly ten weeks now

Since I’ve been out the door

to visit all the places

I frequently explored.

My mind is playing tricks on me

I thought today was Sunday

and went online to church today

but it’s already Monday.

I’ve been told to “Stay at home!” 

’cause I’m considered old

which wasn’t what I thought I was

until Corona Virus took its hold.

Stay home and social distance

if someone comes your way,

and don’t forget to wash your hands

several times a day!”

My hands are very chapped and dry

from all that soap and water;

to add excitement to my life

I bought a teeter-totter.

The problem is there’s no one here

to weight the other end;

in order to get up again

I have to just pretend.

Which brings me to the closure

of this rambling bit of verse;

I hope my mind can stay the course

if this Virus gets much worse!
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Garden Not Forgotten


It’s time to put a poem on the page. This was written for a gentleman in long term care in 2005. His name was Mr. Flowers and learning that I wrote poetry, he asked if I would write a poem for him. Hence A Garden Not Forgotten. This was first posted in 2014. Happy Saturday.

A garden full of flowers

tended in the mind with care

or tended not at all

if wildflower seed is planted there

will reap its keeper plenitude

in fragrant showy splendor

and bring the memory of spring

come blustery December.

Blooms spring forth upon the mind,

deep wine rose and purple phlox,

daffodils of yellow,

multicolored hollyhocks

replace the snow and blizzards

in the darkened winter hours

and keep alive in mind’s great eye

that garden full of flowers.

Mind’s garden keeps on growing;

wild winds and winter snow

won’t whip the fragrant flowers

that mind has come to grow.

The seeds are firmly planted

in the fertile soil of thought

where that garden full of flowers

also blooms forget-me-nots.

2005

IF


We are living in a time of “if’s” right now and my Pastor reminded me of Rudyard Kipling’s poem which I am going to share with you today because we need to keep our heads, we need to meet with triumph and disaster; we need the Will that keeps us holding on. I’ll just alter the final line a bit…”and – which is more- our battle will be won”.

Rudyard KiplingBy Rudyard Kipling More Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

 

When It Hurts


Yesterday, I learned that someone was deeply hurt by cutting remarks of another and remembered a little poem that had come to me several years ago in similar circumstances.

Forgive us oh my Father,

We know not what we do,

For when we’re hurting others

We’re also hurting you.

Happy Sunday.

 

 

Saturday Lightheartedness


Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words…and then sometimes a few words can paint a picture, like this one I found on Pinterest which reminded me of my silly little Oliver Owl poem. Happy Saturday. (Original post for today will be posted tomorrow).

OLIVER OWL

Oliver Owl is a happy old bird

as wise as wise can be.

He makes his home in the forest

at the top of an old pine tree

He dines on delicate insects

and wears his feathers well,

they appear as a fine tuxedo

in shades of brown eggshell.

Oliver’s eyes are round and bright,

they help him to plainly see

through the dark, dark night in the forest

at his home in the old pine tree.

©2005

Spooky

 

“The Moon is Always Full”


In 2014 when my memoir, “My Precious Life” was published, I was working on a book of poetry, in the works for over forty years. “The Moon is Always Full” is now about a week away from printing. This is a sample cover of the book which contains one-hundred-and-twenty-nine poems, including thirty-one in haiku form.

This is proof positive that we are never too old to start something new. Having been on this planet for eighty-one-plus years, each day continues to be an opportunity to welcome new ideas and seek new horizons. Carpe diem!

Questions and feedback are most welcome.

THE MOON IS ALWAYS FULL

Once a month…

sometimes twice,

the full moon is revealed:

but when it’s on the wane

that fullness seems concealed.

Its many phases mark the heavens,

earth’s tides reveal its pull

the naked eye may yet espy

the moon is always full.

©Patricia Ann Boyes

 

 

 

Just Checking In


Today’s post came via Facebook yesterday. It was accompanied by a very long, meaningful poem but I’ll just post one verse here. Happy Sunday.

I JUST CAME by TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHERS FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
I DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,
BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.
SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME,
JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

Image may contain: cloud, sky, tree, outdoor and nature

 

Do You Believe It?


In Soul Stories, a book by Gary Zuvak, he wrote, among other things, “Believe that when you ask a question you always get an answer.” I don’t know why, but the question I asked was, “Where am I from?”

I was led to a meditation site online from a note I had taken on a television program a few nights earlier. The meditation that day was titled “Home”. It suggested that I am from another dimension, one of peace, and light, and silence. This explains my love of silence…I bask in it when stillness seems to envelop me from time to time.

At different times in prior years I had written poems, one titled,” A New Dimension” where becoming aware of the things we usually ignore opens our eyes to what’s around us. “The Journey” depicts a life of love and serenity.

To my mind, heaven is another dimension and perfectly fits the description above…love and serenity.

If I had ignored the prompting to take a note from a television program, I would not have been aware of the online meditation that gave me a fairly apt description of “where I am from”.

I attribute the inspiration for “The Journey” to a surgeon who many years ago released me from hospital with these words, “Live, love, and be happy.” And this is precisely my life today.

Do you believe it?

Can You Imagine?


‘Two people were killed and 12 others injured after a man with a handgun opened fire on a bustling avenue in Toronto on Sunday night the police said. The gunman was later found dead.”

This headline this morning prompted today’s blog which is a slightly altered version of an August 1/14 post. It is actually the third time for posting this poem but somehow the times seem to warrant it.

In 1995 I wrote this poem called The Victim. It’s about crimes and war and unsound government, and the entire world possibly becoming victim to all of these things. And then thinking about the poem in a new light, I realized that it’s not only crimes and wars and unsound government that hurt people, but the way we treat each other on a daily basis. The sad part of all of this is the take heed part. If we don’t take heed, nothing changes, and if we do…can you imagine?

THE VICTIM

People dead

before their time,

victims

of some heinous crime.

Callous killers,

world’s worst foes,

victims

of God only knows.

Wars created

through sheer greed,

victims

of abnormal need.

Governments

whose rule a hoax,

victims

of the peoples’ votes.

Our planet Earth,

soon indigent,

victim

of our ignorance.

World, take heed!

The time has come

for remedy

lest you become

the victim.

©1995

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgement…Romans 12;3

This post is a slightly altered repeat of an August 1, 2014 blog.

 

 

 

 

Sunshine In My Heart


Poetry is another pleasant pastime of mine. It’s been quite a while since my poetry muse has paid me a visit but yesterday she came along and told me to write about the sunshine in my heart. And so I did.

SUNSHINE IN MY HEART

Though the day be dull and dreary

There is sunshine in my heart

Though I’m sometimes weak and weary

There is sunshine in my heart

When the world seems so unfair

With sadness everywhere

With families torn apart

There’s no sunshine in my heart.

When someone says, “I love you tons”

I have sunshine in my heart

When healing hugs replace doldrums

I have sunshine in my heart

When people care and show compassion

When coldness is replaced with passion

When these give life a brand new start

Again, there’s sunshine in my heart.