Late Night Haiku

The sun has fallen

The night sky black and silent

Time to end the day

Pie

My mom and I stopped at Deseret Book this evening.  Just as we were walking out of the door to head home, I caught one last whiff of their Lion House rolls.  Only partially joking, I said to my mother that I had really wanted a pie, but we were now leaving without one.  She surprised me by promptly turning around, charging right back into the store, and walking straight to the Pantry counter.  There we found a beautiful thing: we found a coconut cream pie for 50% off.  Nothing like a Lion House pie for 6 bucks! 

Later, as we were eating the pie at home, I was reminded of a slip of paper I found a few months ago.  I was digging in some old scrapping stuff my mother had and I found a poem I had written in 4th or 5th grade.  I was surprised that my mother had kept this little poem of mine for so many years, and had stowed it away with photos and other memories.  I was surprised she had kept it...but not really because, you see, my mother always knew I would one day be a writer.

Enjoy!

The Banana Cream Pie, by Jill 

(4th or 5th grade Jill)

I'm sorry I threw the pie in your face,

With bananas and cream all over the place.

With cream in your eyes and cream in your hair,

With cream in your nose you looked like a bear.

The bananas and cream looked so tempting to me

and that is why I threw the pie, you see.

If you want to, I am the one to blame.

All I was doing was playing a game.

With everyone laughing and rolling around,

It was extremely funny, is one thing I found.

I won't do it again for all the world's money,

But then, you did kind of look quite funny.

Poem #1: Consequences

Tonight I went to Zumba
and shimmied all my stuff,
Perhaps one day I'll be skinny,
and really, really buff.

But now I'm kind of sweaty,
a bit stinky, what's more;
For, come this time tomorrow
I'll be really rather sore.

My First (and Last) Swim in the Ocean

I had never seen the ocean before.  I think I had imagined it being somewhat like Ariel's mermaid land, with schools of colorful fish, fields of sparkling coral, and a secret king and castle.  It ended up not being exactly how I had imagined it, or even really being the ocean--it was just San Francisco Bay--but to my 4-year-old eyes, it might as well have been the lovely world that I had dreamed.  It was blue, it was beautiful, it was big, and I didn't know the difference.

This was the vacation of my short life.  Coming from land-locked Utah, this was my first experience with the coast and California, my first time to the land of surf and sun.  Everything was new and exciting to my brother, sisters, and me: the bridges, the fog, the boats, the steep roads, and the smooshed houses. And we couldn't wait to get into the water.

We parked our car at the side of the road near the cars of other tourists, and made our way past the rocks down to the sandy shore.  A bridge was to our left, spanning the watery vastness, and to our right, the glittering sea leading to infinity.  We didn't have the time nor the gear to go swimming but we had a few moments to wade to our heart's content.  We eagerly took off our shoes, rolled up our pant legs, and ran into the water.

It was slightly chilly, regardless of it being July, but we splashed and stomped and were generally carefree.  The wet sand squished between my toes and the little beach was littered with little shells.  It was a great day to be a kid.

Suddenly, the tide came in.  A wave too strong pushed and grabbed and knocked me off my feet, tossing me into the greedy water.  The ocean's cold kiss filled my mouth and nose, engorging me on the salty sea.  Her icy fingers entangled in my hair.  Her raspy laugh echoed in my ears.  And her hungry arms engulfed my body, tugging me towards her deep.  I was caught in the ocean's deadly embrace.

But the tide goes out as quickly as it comes in.  After the eternity of a second, the water released me, spitting me out on the muddy sand.  The ocean was no longer beautiful.  I no longer cared for its bluey hue or its hidden treasures.  It had betrayed me, attacked me, and left me crumpled on the beach.

Gasping and sputtering, I did what any 4-year-old would do once I could breathe again: I cried for my mommy.

A Limerick

There once was a girl named Jill

Whose life had nothing of thrill,

So she hasn't a say

About what happened today,

Nor a post her blog to fill.

The Story of Two Donuts

Once there was a donut,
Sitting on a plate.
Round, and glazed, and shiny,

It was looking rather great.

I almost placed it in my hand
to appease my hunger faint.
But a moment's pause acknowledged
my new diet it would taint.

Telling myself no, no, to

the gooey glazey sweet,

I went back to my office

and forgot about the treat.

Minutes passed and up again

I went about my daily work

And suddenly a second donut
began beckoning with a smirk.

But this time it was chocolate--
cakey frosted brown--
My resolve was lost, my will
was gone, I was going down.

I took one bite, two and more,
until the deed was done.
And then I looked around and sighed,
for the donut indeed had won.

The moral of the story is
that life is full of woe,
And instead of eating all the donut,
I should just focus on the hole.

--JH

My Literary Vacation in Poetic Form, Year 3

This weekend last, to Cedar City our way did wend
With friends Charlie, Jane, Al, and Will to spend.

First Charles Dickens, his Great Expectations to see
All played in musical score, most set in minor key.

Young Pip is poor, with opportunity and learning scant
Until one day when mysteriously his wish was grant:

To become a gentleman, his desires to pursue
Finery and riches, a life different than what he knew.

Miss Havisham is bitter and Estella’s heart is cold.
In truth Pip’s future the convict did control:

A good deed done, a debt and life to compensate.
Pip becomes a better man, his expectations great.

At show’s end all is well, most repentant and ashamed
Of the way they lived their lives; friendship again reclaimed.

39 Steps was the second show we did attend
The goal to discover ‘who done it’ in the end

A night at the theatre, Richard did regret,
As he got involved in a game of deadly roulette:

For he was framed for the pretty spy’s demise,
And then ran to Scotland to find the truth behind the lies.

Madcap and mishaps later, Richard finally cracked the case
Discovering the secret and putting the professor in his place.

Four actors and a comedy, the audience did roar.
This Alfred Hitchcock parody certainly did score.

Of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen wrote with wit
The characters jab and spar, a romance she does knit.

Five daughters of Mr. Bennett, much accomplished and called fair,
All in want for a husband, rich men their mother hopes to snare.

Two gentlemen soon come to town, Mr. Bingley a delight,
To the contrary, Mr. Darcy finds the country rather trite.

Jane and Bingley are in love, Elizabeth is sure;
Mr. Darcy sends him to London, thinking it a cure.

Mr. Wickham is a cad; he takes Lydia for a ride.
Jane and Bingley reunite, she will be his bride.

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, each proud and stubborn too,
Find they love each other, despite their different view.

Shakespeare was the last of the writers we did meet
His Much Ado About Nothing was the perfect treat.

In Messina, Claudio his love for Hero does declare,
While Benedict and Beatrice are a contemptuous pair.

They pronounce their much dislike, but all others do insist
That Benedict and Beatrice love, the others’ game persist.

Frivolity and jest do follow, as each love they have denied,
Yet, see that the true feelings of their hearts they cannot hide

Claudio thought Hero proved untrue night of marriage eve,
Her he slayed with slanderous tongue, though he was deceived.

Truth uncovered, Claudio’s remorse, Hero proved not dead,
A happy end for all, with Beatrice and Benedict to wed.

Next season will be historic: they mark the fiftieth year;
To this summer’s shows and plays I give a hearty cheer.

--Me

Click here for "My Literary Vacation in Poetic Form" Year 1 and Year 2.

A Haiku

A winter's morning

fog swirls in utter silence,

eerily empty.

A Poem About Blogging

Life has been busy.
Yet, I haven’t a word
To write on my blog--
It’s rather absurd.

No thoughts or ideas,
No jokes or good laughs,
No insights or fun,
No recipes or crafts.

Sorry to disappoint
Those who like to read.
Perhaps by tomorrow,
I’ll have what I need

To write something truly
Remarkable and great:
Something I did,
Or something I ate,

Something I heard,
Or something I saw
To share with you here
And leave you in awe.

I won’t disappoint.
Until then sit tight:
It is forthcoming--
And is sure to delight.

--Me

My Literary Vacation in Poetic Form, Year 2

This recent summer past to Cedar we to see
A play of Shakespeare, a musical, and a comedy.

That Shakespeare, a playwright and sonnet poet too
The Comedy of Errors did write for our review.

Antipholus and Dromio, each a twin without the know,
Are muddled and confused throughout the entire show.

Antipholus of Syracuse in Ephesus to find
His brother at sea long-lost, one of his own kind.

Dromio appears, (is really the other brother's slave)
Has not that gold which he his master gave.

Disorder and identity mistook were certain to ensue;
Laughter and pleasure from the audience did drew.

At curtain close each twin was found and together united,
Brothers and parentage revealed; all visages delighted.

In The Secret Garden, Mary young orphan child
From India to England sailed to live on moor wild.

Sad Uncle Archie, haunted by ghosts and love of past.
Colin is so very ill; they fear he will not last.

Mary finds the key that to Aunt Lily's garden fair
Will open doors, tear down walls, allow all hearts repair.

With the help of Dickon flowers soon begin to bloom,
Life and love will scatter doubt and fear and gloom.

Magic touches all, despair and illness flee--
Hope and happiness renew as Archie comes to see

The garden of his Lily dear in painted color bright
Is not dead, but lives and grows. All is set to right.

Of Private Lives, one couple five years ago did part
Find they still each other love in their inner heart.

Elyot and new wife Sybil, first night of unioned bliss,
On balcony along the shores of France share a wedded kiss.

Victor and Amanda at neighboring veranda do reside
Spend their honeymoon; that day she too played bride.

Elyot and Amanda, married and divorced that time ago
Once met again still love the other despite their many rows.

Both like to tease and argue, each their tempers tend to flare
Yet decide to leave the new spouses and continue their affair.

To Paris they do flee, their brawls and fights do raise a laugh.
But in their love continue, remaining the other's better half.

All in all, the plays were fun, though Shakespeare took the cake,
I thoroughly enjoyed them all--Can't wait for next year's take.

To Read 'My Literary Vacation in Poetic Form, Year 1", click here.

A Typical Day

I sit at my desk:
Not much to do.
These days it is slow--
Projects and people are few.

I stare at my screen:
Not much to see.
My eyes are a blur,
To close is their plea.

I type on my keyboard:
Not much to write.
Words come so slowly,
Restless thoughts, no sight.

I talk to myself:
Not much to say.
Don’t want to work--
Should call it a day.

I open my wallet:
Not much inside.
I sigh and keep going,
At the office must bide.

--Me

The Cleverness of Me

My sister and I went in together for a wedding shower gift. It was sort of a stay-at-home-date-night kit, including all the fixings for a delicious Italian dinner, a game, and a movie. My job was to write the card. This is what I came up with (remember, I have background in both poetry and Italian):

We are glad that you've found the fella
Who thinks that you are molto bella.
For those nights you haven't plans,
Use this kit to please your man.
When all is done, lean in a say,
"This is what they call amore."

Not too shabby, if I say so myself. Maybe one day I'll get paid to be clever...

(The above poetry cannot be reproduced without specific permission of the author (me). Please contact her for any reproduction or copying requests.)

A Letter (My One and Only Blurb)

Dear President Elect,

In the aftermath of the recent election for our nation’s forty-fourth president, I have decided to join in the many voices, both spoken and written, in expressing my thoughts.

I have never been one to join much in political hoop-ha; I study the issues and pick the candidate I feel will best support my ideals and best support and lead our country. We are all entitled to think and decide for ourselves. We live in a democracy, and as such, all have a say in our government. That is something that is truly great about our country: we all have freedom of choice, freedom of speech, and freedom to make our lives better.

I know there have been unsavory comments said of both you and your opponent in this election; the public and media are fierce when all vying to be heard. They often say whatever they feel will generate the most noise. Even after the votes have been counted, it seems that some of these voices have gotten louder and more obnoxious. I have stopped listening to these voices; I am sick of their bite and roar. I made a choice for a candidate, our nation made a choice for its leader, and now it is our duty as Americans to make the choice to support our collective decision.

I love this country; nowhere else on earth is equal to it in it’s freedoms, it’s power, it’s people, it’s spirit , and it’s strength. It is the Land of the Free, the Land of the Brave. As the United States of America, we need to live up to our name and stand united in supporting the man we have chosen to lead us.

President Elect, I trust you to work hard for the American people; to always have their needs and their best interests in sight. I trust you to make a better America and to always protect the freedoms we have been given. I trust you to do what is honest, good, and upstanding, to give hope to the downtrodden and inspire courage in the weary. I trust you to make America proud.

Don’t disappoint me.

Reflections on a Snowy Day

The gray sky grows heavy,
laden clouds and
menacing shadows.
The storm--
almost peaceful--
deceives,
greeting all with an
icy kiss.
Snow falls silently,
covering the ground with a
chilly blanket of white.
The wind is still,
the air,
hushed.
Winter approaches softly,
Her bare arms
reaching
in an empty embrace.

Ode to a Hot Pastrami Sandwich

Oh, hot pastrami sandwich!
Your warm tenderness entreats me.
Your Russian dressing entices me.
Your added coleslaw entrances me.
Oh, how you have enchanted me.
Your peppercorn-encrusted red flesh
Encased in a white Kaiser roll
Enhanced by Swiss cheese is a sensory experience.
You taunt my nostrils, you taunt my eyes.
You taunt my stomach;
My mouth waters expectantly.

I have eaten. I have lived.

My Literary Vacation in Poetic Form

Every year in the summer down south we often go
To sit in the hot sun and breeze and increase our cultural know.

To Tuacahn and Cedar City we often go to view
The likes of Shakespeare and friends; to see a play or two.

At first we went to Cedar. The matinee to see
Was of Cyrano and Roxane, their love a mystery.

“Cyrano de Bergerac”, his name the title too,
With a nose so big and long his girl he would not woo.

An expert swordsman and a poet, his words were all in prose
His enemies were soon subdued if they commented on his nose.

His love he gave through Christian’s name, his love he never told
Until the day that he’d soon die when all were aged and old.

Behold, Roxane’s heart was warmed as she listened to his letter.
And as he died in her arms knew she loved Cyrano the better.

A Shakespearean comedy was the second play we saw,
“Two Gentlemen of Verona”, a laugh it did draw.

Proteus and Valentine, ordered to Milan to learn,
Both fell for the fair lady Sylvia in turn.

Julia loved Proteus; her love for him was true
So to Milan she followed him, quickly she flew.

Disguised as a man she strived their love to mend.
She was victorious, each couple happy in the end.

Next in Tuacahn, in Les Miserable we did find
Prisoner Jean Valjan, a criminal turned kind.

The student revolution in Paris streets did rage
Fighting for equality their lives they did wage.

The tragedy was ended with wedding march and song,
With charity and love discovered, righting all wrong.

With the close of the curtain came the close of day.
The world’s a large stage filled with wonderful plays.