Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Poem: Count Your Blessings Day by Day

Friday, June 27, 2014

Photo by Lee Lageschulte

Count Your Blessings Day by Day:

As you live your life,
Be thankful for the good things going on,
Count your blessings day by day!

Make it a daily practice,
To give thanks for your blessings,
As you live your life each day!

When you arise each day be thankful that,
You can tie your own shoes, brush your own teeth, etc.,
Count your blessings day by day!

Each day, appreciate your many blessings and
Value seeing, hearing, tasting, thinking and breathing,
As you live your life each day!

Many, many folks go on with their lives,
Without a clue as to how lucky they are!
Count your blessings day by day!

There’s a lot of things that go wrong in your life!
On the other hand, there’s a lot that goes right.
As you live your life, 
Count your blessings day by day!

©2012 Robert J. Barta


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Poem: Carl the Crow

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Carl the Crow
Photo by Peggy Bartleson


Carl the Crow
By Jean Monce Bryant
(inspired by the For the Birds column)


Oh Carl the Crow- what a cute funny guy
He exited the nest when not able to fly
His parents are nearby-they're armed and they're ready
So predators BEWARE--their surveillance is steady

They feed Carl often--his demands will not quit
He'll squawk and he'll CAW till he gets every bit
As Providers and Security there's no time to sleep
They'll answer each call--even one tiny peep

With hawks, owls and raccoons and eagles as well
The dangers are many--I think you can tell
And neighborhood cats also can pose a threat
The parents relax??? No, no time for that yet

If baby, though noisy, can hide from their view
His chance for survival's much better it's true
If one of his siblings has left the nest too
The parents' duties are doubled--for them I'll say WHEW"

But any good parent--though tired and worn-out
Will come Wide-Awake at a peep or a shout
So thank you for babies--and parents as well
Their love and devotion it truly is swell

Carl will be growing his tail feathers soon
And then he can fly and head straight for the moon
He's patiently waiting for them to arrive
With rudders on board--he can fly and survive


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Poem: I dream of a place

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

By Devon Vose Rickabaugh

Hand drawn digital art
By Devon Vose Rickabaugh

I dream of a place
with a beach
on the Sound
with hawks and salmon,
a cedar canoe
and old growth trees
all around.


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Poem: Trees Dancing in the Breeze

Monday, June 9, 2014


Trees Dancing In The Breeze

Today I saw some trees,
As beautiful as could be,
They were dancing in the breeze!

I’m sure they knew I was there,
Because they could see the glaze of my stare!

To me it was a most entertaining surprise,
Anyone could tell from the stare of my eyes!

Many times I have passed these beautiful trees,
But today I realized they were dancing for me!

For a mesmerizing moment of pleasure,
Take a few moments each day to stare at their treasures!

You’ll find the dancing of trees more valuable than gold,
When you are young and especially when you are old!

©2014 Bob Barta

Envoi:  There is pure joy in all of nature
especially in the dancing of trees in a breeze!


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Poem for Palm Sunday

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Iris
Photo by Lee Lageschulte


A PSALM FOR PALM SUNDAY

Go in peace through the turmoil.
Go in strength through the pain
Go in joy through the sadness
Through the loss there is gain

Though the path may be rocky
And the Future unclear
Just know deep in your heart
That your Guidance is near

Your protection is with you
And your compass is true
With God’s love all around you
There is much you can do

Just reach out to the lonely
Bring your cheer to the sad
Know that Love is the answer
When the world seems so bad

From the smallest of insects
To the Giants of life
God is there in the process
In the midst of the strife

Don’t lose heart—that’s the answer
For your Heart holds the key
To bring love to the needy
What a gift-don’t you see

In your outreach so kindly
They will find a true Friend
What is needed by many
The effect will not end

For their life will be brightened
By the touch of your hand
Just give love oh so freely
That is God’s true command

Jean Monce Bryant 
Palm Sunday April 1, 2012


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Poem: Song of the Chickadee

Monday, April 7, 2014

Black capped chickadee
Photo by Jerry Pickard

Song of the Chickadee
By Cynthia Sheridan

The seed is in the feeder box, I poured it from a pail
Now a chickadee is hovering above my garden rail
She darts and grabs a single seed, to where I cannot see
A hundred trips away and back, it’s nature’s mystery
Why not stay and dine a while, I ask my little friend
You take such tiny bites, I fear your job will never end
Off she goes, another seed is headed for the tree
And all around, a happy song: chick-a-dee-a-dee-adee


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Poem: Welcome Spring

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Photo by Lee Lageschulte

WELCOME SPRING
By Cynthia Sheridan

Welcome spring from winter sleep
Beneath the soil buried deep

Greetings bud and new green leaf
From grey and gloom you bring relief

Hello to color bursting ‘bout
As blossoms make their coming out

Just like you sweet newborn lamb
And chirping nest, how glad I am ...
to welcome spring


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Poem: Darth Hummer scans the sky

Monday, March 10, 2014

Hand drawn digital art
by Devon Vose Rickabaugh

By Devon Vose Rickabaugh

Darth Hummer
scans the sky
for incoming jets,
his sword beak
at the ready
to slam buzz
his fierce tiny rivals

I bring the feeder out.
He’s still on guard
from yesterday: beak
at the ready, warning
buzz squeak and zoom.
He will not feed
until he’s fought
a rival off.
Such rivalry
is hard for me.

Below freezing,
in the teens.
I try to keep
the feeder liquid
using chemical
hand warmers
wrapped around
which turn cold
and hard.


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Poem: Love Can Make you Squirrelly Early

Sunday, March 2, 2014


Photo by Steven H. Robinson

Love Can Make you Squirrelly Early
By Grandma Genie aka Jean Monce Bryant

There is a squirrel named Earl
He’s fallen for a girl
His heart is in a whirl

Before his needs were few
Good food—a bed or two
He’s not sure what to do

His mind is full of clutter
She’s near--he’s turned to butter
His heart is all aflutter

She is so very cute
He’d like to give pursuit
Dressed in his racing suit

He’d chase her up a tree
And down so speedily
He’d even utter “WHEE”

Photo by Wayne Pridemore

There is another bloke
He thinks for HIM she’s”spoke”
Earl know that is a joke

When she has passed Earl by
He’s seen her wink an eye
And seem a trifle shy

Now he’s a little older
He’ll get a little bolder
And brush against her shoulder

If she will say “I do”
And promise love so true
They’ll marry—wouldn’t you?

They’ll build a nest so high
Right up there near the sky
And babies soon we’ll spy

Then little earls will come right down
They’ll race around and cover ground
And squirrels FOREVER will abound!


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Squirrel - Backyard Beggar

Monday, February 17, 2014

William Hunter, the poet, is not a local resident, but a retired businessman who publishes his poems online. Wayne Pridemore, the photographer, is a Shoreline resident, well-known to readers as a sports action photographer.

Squirrel - Backyard Beggar…  Poem by William Hunter

You furry rodent
Your tail snaps to and fro
You harvest all the
Bird feed
Everywhere you go


On the ground
Up the pole
In the feeder
You climb
Barriers be damned
‘Cause you’ve got the time


Neither here nor there
You scant have an enemy
Save the family dogs
But not the cats
Nor the birds
Nor the owl on the chimney

Scamper and scatter
Through the trees and brush
You delight and entertain
Without knowing as much


Cobs of corn you are offered
Yet birdseed you desire
Can not you defer
To the birds on the wire?


Go on! You varmit!
You backyard beggar!
Tend to your own garden
And let the birds have there’n.


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Poem: Seattle Surprise

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Photo by Christine Southwick


Seattle Surprise
By Cynthia Sheridan


Winter birds on white wool snow. Fir trees trimmed in lace
Creatures curled in fur-lined nests as nightfall they embrace


Crunchy thumps, like a muted drum, from neighbors passing by
Briefly pierce the silence with their restless lullaby


Icy dewdrops drift and fall so gently on my face
A frozen moment, mine to keep . How sweet this hallowed place


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Poem: Goodbye To Nelson Mandela

Monday, December 9, 2013


Goodbye To Nelson Mandela


Nelson Mandela is gone.
Our Brother has he left us
A vision of peace,
And a world with justice

Nelson is gone
But "Madiba" has left us
A message of brotherhood,
A call to unite

Nelson has left
But will not be forgotten
He showed us the way
To stand as brothers and sisters

Nelson stays with us
We must reach out to each other
Nelson is here,
To our hearts he calls

Nelson has taught us,
Now we must move forward.
We carry the light of love and freedom,
Peace and equality for all


George Piano
Lake Forest Park


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Poem: The Falcon Foray

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Our resident poet, Jean Monce Bryant, was inspired by the story of the biologists banding the peregrine falcon chicks under the Ship Canal bridge which we recently published.

Maaaaaaa!

THE FALCON FORAY

Mama Falcon Bridget as you can tell
Had every right to shout
Those interfering biologists
She told them to “STAY OUT”

They’d come to band her little chicks
To check their health it’s true
But how could she know their intent
She knew what she must do

She roused her hubby
From his rest
They planned a quick foray
With talons poised
They dive-bombed down
The biologists went away

Her husband had a silly grin
That’s what he’s meant to do
You know his name is Perry
And his grin is in there too

They’re PERE-GRINe falcons
They’re safe at last
Not endangered anymore
But biologists who come around
Better rush right out the door

When Mother Love it is aroused
You’ve met a Mighty Foe
My word to you is very clear
Get out of there!  JUST GO!!!!


Jean Monce Bryant 
July 12, 2013


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Poem: Cool Dog in Side car

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Our resident poet, Jean Bryant, was inspired by Frank Kleyn's photograph of the Cool Dog in the motorcycle side car.

Photo by Frank Kleyn



He is so cool  He is so fine
This Sidecar Companion friend of mine
He loves to go out for a ride
It's great to have him by my side
  
He keeps a lookout too for Danger
To  bumps in road--he is no stranger
He knows that Life can bring surprise
It 's great to have his watchful eyes  

We shelter him for he wears shades
A windshield too--it also aids
Oh he's my buddy--it is true
I hope that you have someone too

He's faithful--loyal to the core
Oh I can't ask for anymore
So say a thanks for all who bless
Who give us so much happiness

They see beyond their Vision's sight
They know True Love makes all things right


Jean Monce Bryant
June 21,2013



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Poem: No wild goose chase

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Updated 5-16-2013 9:54am

Photo by Kevin Mack, PAWS

Inspired by the article about the trooper who rescued the hissing geese from I-5, Jean Monce Bryant  has written a poem.


SHOWING LOVE IS NO WILD GOOSE CHASE

That trooper who went on that goose chase
Should surely be given a medal
The folks in their cars who slackened their pace
And took heavy feet off the pedal

To save Mama Goose and her goslings
To give them a chance to survive
They all our heroes—for Wildlife it’s true
Is just such a boon to our lives

The one who was injured and damaged
And then did not make it all through
It taught us that lending a wing or a hand
Is something we all need to do

And PAWS is right there at the forefront
Each day they are doing their best
To rescue the injured and give them great care
And bring them to kennel or nest

So just keep alert to the message
That though on this Earth there is pain
The message is simple—the story is true
Showing love will bring the greatest gain


Jean Monce Bryant
May 10, 2013

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Prizewinning poets enlivened poetry slam at North City Bistro

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Ely Barton and Rose McAlesse
at the North City Bistro
Photo by Devon Rickabaugh

By Devon Vose Rickabaugh

Three prizewinning poets from the slam poetry scene in Seattle enlivened The North City Bistro last Tuesday night with their hip-hop rhythms combined with fresh heartfelt performance poems. Rose McAleese, poet and filmmaker, said in order to be a slam poem the poem in must cry out to be performed. In addition the writing must be original, use no props, and follow a time limit. During the slams, 5 people in the audience judge the poem from 1 to 10 and the winner of that night is announced at the end of the evening.

In her first poem McAleese took her inspiration from Shakespeare: “I’m a Shakespeare nerd.” Lady Macbeth yells at Macbeth, “You want to divorce me. Fine you wish to divorce me. You silly crow, wingspan too short of raven, if not for me …. who will shine your blade?”

McAleese introduced her friends and fellow poets Ela Barton, poet, artist and Show Host who has formed an all age slam forum called Rain City Slam located on Capital Hill. And Raven Taylor who is a senior at Nova High School and currently working at Queer Youth Space, a non profit organization where she plans events.

Raven Taylor
18 year old poet
One of Ela Barton’s poems used a Scrabble game with points for each word to tell a story of struggle and suicide: “He found his language one tile at a time…His older brother Andrew gave him his first dictionary and said ‘this is your first weapon. Choose your words carefully.” As Rose McAleese said, “The word is more powerful than war.”

Eighteen year old Raven Taylor read “A List of Ten Things my Voice Sounds Like”: a little girl; all the pain that wasn’t good enough to sell; a white girl, that’s what they told me in middle school; a black girl trying to recite broken sentences, ghetto English, hand clapping on auto pilot…”

McAleese said that poets from Shoreline had joined the slam scene in the past and that she now has the pleasure to come out to Shoreline and “spread the word.” The Shoreline Public Library co-sponsored the slam along with the North City Bistro.


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Poem: Gulp - the swallows have arrived

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Tree Swallow with bug - Photo by Scott Ramos

Gulp - the swallows have arrived
By Jean Bryant

Inspired by For the Birds: The Swallows are Coming

It makes me GULP to hear you say
Those SWALLOWS are coming every day
Their acrobatics are so keen
Meals on the fly is what I mean

Daylight hours is when they fly
When insects they can clearly spy
With their short wide bills open wide
Those flying insects glide inside

No other songbirds can compare
They spend more wing time I declare
They’re vacuum cleaners of the skies
Mosquitos, gnats,flying ants they prize

They’re monogamous is what I’m told
To mates and sites they are not cold
They will return Let’s give a cheer
They are not fly-by-nights it’s clear

Their food supply is known to suffer
When too much rain there is no buffer
And pesticides deplete their larder
It makes their searching that much harder

They try to help to nab each pest
That bothers us –they do their best
Termites they gladly scarf right down
Such lovely helpers when in town

Their colors are bright and some are blue
 I like to see them –don’t you too
Aerial acrobatics are their game
BLUE ANGELS-- that’s the name they claim 


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In defense of ducks

Monday, April 15, 2013

In response to Marc Weinberg's interpretation of the "unlucky duck" who paced for an hour alongside a pond, Jean Bryant has a different viewpoint.

Unlucky duck - photo by Marc Weinberg
In all probability she is not some fly-by-night but is calmly and devotedly sitting on the nest waiting for those eggs to open. He, however, is footloose and fancy free.

But Jean does offer a sympathetic poem for the unlucky duck.

My ducky dear  I am so blue
So is the water  where are you
I lingered long I had a whim
Would you please join me in a swim?

Yes it is cold and very dreary
But seeing YOU would make me cheery
It's blustery and rainy here
Our love would warm us do not fear

You stood me up I had to fly
I hope there's not some other guy
Who now has made your heart to fill
I have a hunch his name is Bill


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Doggerel: Hector, Our K9 Hero

Friday, April 5, 2013

By Jean Bryant

Hector is a special guy
He‘s always on his toes
He likes to travel with the cops
The scent of drugs he knows

He helped to make a timely stop
His nostrils did the rest
They found the car was full of drugs
That Hector is the best

There used to be a certain phrase
“When Hector was a pup”
But we can be so proud of him
Our Hector has grown up


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Happy Winter Solstice (the world didn't end after all)

Saturday, December 22, 2012

So the world didn't end after all - hope you didn't sell all your belonging to move into a bunker.

Instead we saw the turning of the seasons in the Winter Solstice and we can look forward to a few more minutes of light each day.

Snowfall. Photo by Vicki Michels

The stag bells, winter snows, summer has gone 
Wind high and cold, the sun low, short its course 
The sea running high. 
Deep red the bracken; its shape is lost; 
The wild goose has raised its accustomed cry, 
Cold has seized the birds' wings; 
Season of ice, this is my news. 
                               - Irish poem, 9th Century

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