Z is for Zorro by Abbie

I’m re-blogging this from Writing Wranglers and Warriors, a blog I write for once a month. This is the last day of my National Poetry Month commemoration. I’ll return to my regular weekly blogging schedule next Tuesday with a review of books I read this month.

Writing Wranglers and Warriors

This post by Abbie Johnson Taylor

Today, the last day of the Blog A-Z Challenge, is also Poem in Your Pocket Day so here’s a poem for your pocket. This was inspired by a song from a movie that was released in the late 1990’s, but I didn’t hear of the song or the movie until 2005 after my late husband Bill proposed to me. He was living in Fowler, Colorado, at the time, and I was here in Sheridan, Wyoming. We met through a magazine, and after a long-distance friendship during which we communicated regularly by e-mail and phone and met face to face twice, he sent me a letter, out of the blue, asking me to marry him. This was in January.

A month later, he sent me a Valentine care package that included, among other things, a cassette tape of love songs he downloaded from the Internet…

View original post 197 more words

Little Houses

Today’s poem was inspired by the NaPoWriMo prompt at http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-nine/ . Click on the Dropbox link below the poem to hear me read it.

 

LITTLE HOUSES

 

Laura Ingalls Wilder, the little girl

who lived in the big woods, grew up,

got married, had a daughter,

Rose Wilder Lane, wrote about

her life with Rose’s help.

Her tales delighted me and other children.

 

Now, Susan Wittig Albert

writes about Rose and Laura’s lives during the Depression,

how Rose and Laura collaborated

on the Little House books,

still fascinating to me, but do today’s young people

want to know about life over a hundred years ago?

Do they care about a family on the prairie,

struggling to stay alive through harsh winters, drought?

This book should encourage mothers to read to their daughters,

as mine did, about the little girl in the big woods.

 

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/15213189/little%20houses.mp3

 

Do you remember reading the little house books when you were a child? Did you have any favorite books in the series that you read more than once? Mine was Little Town on the Prairie, in which Laura, a teen-ager, starts working to support her family and launches her teaching career. I hope to finish Susana Wittig Albert’s book in time to blog about it next week so stay tuned.

 

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

 

Order That’s Life from Finishing Line Press.

 

Order That’s Life from Amazon.

 

Vote for my new book idea.

A Poem about My Mother

Today’s poem was inspired by the NaPoWriMo prompt at http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-five/ . This is a clerihew, a humorous four-line poem about someone. May my poor dear mother rest in peace.

 

My mother’s name was Joan.

She loved to talk on the phone.

We kids often thought she was mean.

“Not now,” she’d say. “I’m talking to Norleen.”

 

Now, I double dare you, my readers, to write one of these. Even if you don’t think you’re a poet, you should be able to do this. Think of someone you know whose name is easy to rhyme. Your first line should have that person’s name at the end. Your second line rhymes with your first line. Write your last two lines with a different rhyme. According to the article at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clerihew , the meter doesn’t have to be precise. Have fun with this, and feel free to leave your results in the comment field. Thank goodness my name isn’t easy to rhyme.

 

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

 

Order That’s Life from Finishing Line Press.

 

Order That’s Life from Amazon.

 

Vote for my new book idea.

Cerebral Bleed

In the emergency room after your first stroke,

I told you about my singing group’s performance

at a wine tasting–you said

we should have sung “Red Red Wine.”

In and out of consciousness,

you understood everything I said,

gave me hope our lives could return to normal.

 

When I left you in the intensive care unit,

I said, “I love you.”

You said, “You better.”

I was hopeful.

 

At the nursing home, I was encouraged

to lie on the bed with you

which I hadn’t done in three months.

“This feels right,” you said

when I stretched out next to you on the narrow bed,

your good arm around my shoulder,

my head resting on yours.

It did feel right.

 

You grew stronger, came home,

then had a second stroke, not as severe,

but never walked again. For the next five years,

I dressed you, took you to the bathroom,

prepared your meals, helped you with your computer,

tuned in ball games for you on the radio,

made sure you had plenty of recorded books.

 

You carried on as best you could

before deciding you had enough.

Hope died when you did,

but you’re in a better place.

Although I miss you,

I’m relieved not to be your caregiver anymore.

 

To hear me read this poem, go to https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/15213189/cerebral%20bleed.mp3 .

 

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

 

Order That’s Life from Finishing Line Press.

 

Order That’s Life from Amazon.

 

Vote for my new book idea.

Reassurance

I was inspired to post today’s poem by Robert Lee Brewer’s prompt at http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2015-april-pad-challenge-day-24 . I wrote it years ago, and it’s included in my collection, How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver. Click on the Dropbox link below the poem to hear me read it.

 

Reassurance

 

Loving, caring, sensitive,

with gentle kisses and caresses,

he knows how to make me feel good,

although he can only use one arm and leg.

 

When I press my face to his cheek,

drink in his sweet aroma,

my worries and doubts melt away.

 

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/15213189/reassurance.mp3

 

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

 

Order That’s Life from Finishing Line Press.

 

Order That’s Life from Amazon.

 

Vote for my new book idea.