Thanksgiving 55

It’s a wonderful day when I get family, food and poetry!  I hope all those celebrating Thanksgiving haven’t eaten themselves into a stupor.  Today, D’verse Poets has given the challenge of writing an acrostic poem, and it’s G-Man’s Friday Flash 55 as well.

Thoughts today turn to much

happier times when

all of my family lived.

Never again will I see

kind faces or gratefully hear

sweet words from my

grandparents in Heaven above.

Instead, I hear small children

vying for my attention.

I have grown children, and

now I get the honor of

Grandma as my title.

***

Just so there is no confusion and I start any rumors , I’m not really a grandmother yet, and don’t think it’s going to happen any time soon.

Halloween

This is my favorite time of year, so when we’re invited to share Halloween poems for the open link at Real Toads, I kind of go into a Yipee!  writing reverie and forgot to stop.  But, really, it’s the best time of year~magic and mystery, costumes and candy!  What more you could ask for?

The old ways are forgotten.

The sacred nature of

Samhain has given way

to costumes and candy.

Trick-or-treating replaces

traditional celebrations

honoring the dead or

scrying to see the future.

Ancient wise ones are still,

waiting and watching for

their moment to return.

Halloween candy

lures the child to trick-or-treat

tummy ache follows

 

spooky screaming night is

All Hallow’s Eve

mayhem reigns supreme

haunts and spectors

abound in the streets

indulgent adults know

naughtiness will persist

***

Happy Halloween!

Mountain Goat

Transforming Fridays.  Today we’re getting in touch with life on the tundra and exploring point of view.  Be sure to visit Real Toads for more tundrariffic poetry.  I have chosen to share life as a mountain goat.

My home high in the mountains

On top of the world so cold

Until the sun shines on my coat;

New kids with me by my side

Together we climb to high

Altitudes in search of food.

I paw the ground and snort a warning-

Newcomers are a danger to us;

“Get behind me little ones!”

Off we go down steep cliffs

Away from the danger

To rest safely under the shrub.

“Me’s no mountain goat, but me’s be cuterest,” Myson Osboer

And just for fun, here’s a bonus polar bear haiku.

***

padding the tundra

clawed pawprints in icy snow

searching for dinner