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Posts Tagged ‘poems’

Mother’s Day is Fast approaching!

I never heard these words from my mother.  I bet most people haven’t, but I think it’s time.

I say them now!

I share them now.  I give everyone permission to copy, paste, and share these words, this poem, with anyone they love unconditionally (but please give me credit for the creation of the poem. Thanks!)  Share it with your mother, your children, your wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, significant other, co-worker, friend down the street, neighbor…I don’t care who, but feel free to share the unconditional love.  Read it to yourself 100 times!

Thanks so much for reading and sharing!  I love you too… unconditionally!

 

Unconditional Love

(by Vicki Neal ©2014)

 

I love you when you’re grumpy

I love you when you dance

I love you when you walk around

With dirt stains on your pants

 

I love you when you scream at me

And when you give me kisses

I love you when you trust in me

And tell me secret wishes

 

I love you when you break my things

And when you make a mess

And even with my feelings hurt

I’d never love you less.

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I’ve been stuck in the doldrums of “I can’t seem to…(insert thing)”

Today, a thought came to me, “What if a knight got stuck in this place?”  and the following was born…

 

The Knight of Cantalot  (©Vicki Neal 2014)

While sitting at this table

Which, by the way, is square

I hear about a dragon

Living close by in his lair

 

Well, I should go and slay him

Because I’m a knight you see

But, I cannot slay this dragon

‘Cause he’s way too big for me

 

I’d love to help the kingdom

It’d be cool to be a hero

But I’m just not brave, so sorry

I’m just way to full of fear, Oh

 

My armor’s dull.  It has no shine

There’s even bits of rust

But I just can’t seem to find the time

To clean off all the dust

 

A damsel in distress you say?

You mean more distress than me?

With the pains in all my muscles

And the sliver from that tree?

 

And now a troll’s attacking

He’s destroying people’s lands

But, I guess I’ll leave him to it

As I’m armed with rubber bands

 

You want to find a real knight

To fight and kill that giant

Go travel out to Canalot

They’ll help you there, but I can’t

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Whine Connoisseur

Anyone else have kids that have gone through the whine phase??? I’d love to hear your tricks for staying sane!

Whine Connoisseur   (© Vicki Neal 2014)

I’ve got:

A whine for staying up at night
A whine to get my way
A whine when others do not listen to what I have to say

A whine when brother’s mean to me
A whine when sister’s too
A whine when I can’t do the things the older people do

A whine for too much homework
A whine for too much noise
A whine when someone doesn’t ask when playing with my toys

A whine for when I want something
A whine for when I don’t
When mother tells me not to whine, I must respond, “I won’t”

I have a whine when hungry
And one when food tastes ick
I also have a mopey whine whenever I feel sick

I whine when I’m impatient
When I think things aren’t fair
I whine when mom is brushing all the tangles from my hair

I whine when ere’ I’m tired
When someone says I’m wrong
I also whine impatiently when in the car too long

I whine to beg for chocolate
I whine to beg for cheese
I whine and whine to get my way instead of saying please.

Yes, I’m a connoisseur
A master of the whine
And although my mom is going nuts, I know that I’m just fine.

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Just Dance

I was recently inspired when my son introduced me to ‘Kid President’. If you haven’t heard of him or seen him, I would suggest checking him out on you tube. (Kid President that is…my son is not on you tube yet.) Anyway, He suggests often that the world would be a better place if we all danced more. I agree Kid President…Let’s Dance.
IMG_20140325_155804
Just Dance (©Vicki Neal 2014)

Dancing in the shadows
Dancing in the rain
Dancing in the sunshine
Dancing through the pain
Dancing with your brother
Dancing with your sis
Dancing with the one you love
Dancing on with bliss
Dance to feel sexy
Dance to feel sweet
Dance to feel the movement
Through body, hands, & feet
Dancing out your anger
Dancing out your screams
Dancing out frustrations
Dancing out your dreams
Dancing when you’re naked
Dancing when you’re clad
Dancing when you’re happy
Dancing when you’re sad
Dancing on when things get tough
Dancing to the beat
Dancing in your bedroom, or
Dancing in the street
Dancing wild
Dancing slow
Dance with songs and shouts
It doesn’t matter how you dance
Just get the dancing out!

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Pillow Fight

The pillow fight.  The bashing…the pounding…the laughter…the chaos.  I do not know a child who does not like to grab a pillow and start in. I can’t count the number of times my children, or myself for that matter, have entered the melee armed only with fluff.

It’s amazing how much fun can be had with a square of stuffing.

Unfortunately, my son has experienced first hand how quickly the fun can turn.  This poem was written after one of the epic pillow fights went sour.

 

Jimmy’s Pillow Fight

Oh, I’m the king of this castle100_4411

I am big and I am bold

These pillows are my ammo

And I can conquer trolls

They call me Sister Basher

The mightiest of might

I’ve got a giant pillow

And I’m not afraid to fight

No one can defeat me

I’ve got honor on my side

You better just surrender

Or run away and hide

jimmypillowI’ve got my golden armor on

And now I’m attack proof

So here I come, Beware, Stand back

For this outstanding…OOF

No fair, I wasn’t looking

I…OOF…Hey, that’s enough!

Well, I’ll show you. Take this and, Hey…

My pillow’s got no fluff!!

You’re messing up my system

You’re messing up my plan

You’re stealing all my pillows

Seriously, Man!

Would you just…OOF…I want to, Hey!

That was too hard a hit.

I…OOF…But…OOF…You… OOF…OOF…OOF

Stop It…OOF…I quit!

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Have you ever been completely taken over by a thought?  A sentence throws a surprise party in your conscious thought and then refuses to leave.  The words remain lodged in your brain begging for attention like that incessant itch you can’t quite reach.   Impossible to ignore.  Like the child who repeatedly asks, “are we there yet?”, you must respond to the question or the barrage continues.

That happened to me last week.  I was jogging along, minding my own business, when suddenly, out of nowhere, in pops …the sentence (dun dun duuuun!!!).

Now this sentence made no sense at all to me at the time.  I heard my mind respond, “WHAT?” as in, “Where the heck did that sentence come from?”, and, “Why is it in my brain?”  I was confused…confounded.  The sentence had no relevance to anything in my life, but it had abducted my brain.  It would not leave.  I pretended it didn’t matter and continued on with my life.  I showered, worked, cooked, slept, primped, read, talked, and took care of the business of living all while being accompanied by this thought.    I tried to actively think other things.  The thought remained.  Finally, I sat down with the thought and asked it, “So now what?”.  And we worked together to figure it out.

What was this stubborn thought?

It was,

           “There’s a troll in my bedroom and I don’t know what to do.”

 

And, after sitting down with this thought, here’s the result:

 

Troll in My Bedroom

There’s a troll in my bedroom and I don’t know what to do

Will he eat up all my underwear or gnaw upon my shoes?

Will he empty out my piggybank? Put holes in all my socks?

Will he laugh and fill my pillowcase with lots of dirty rocks?

 

I need to get the troll out of my room before he’s seen.

Cause I hear that when a troll’s discovered then he gets all mean

Evicting trolls’ not easy…it is harder than you think

Could I decorate and color in annoying shades of pink?

 

If I fill the room with sunshine I could scare the troll away.

But there’s shadows in the closet where the sneaky troll could stay.

Now if I had a rainbow I could push him o’er the side

But a troll is really clever and it might decide to hide.

 

I could hire out the Midas King and turn him into gold.

Or find a silver unicorn which works as well, I’m told.

100 dozen roses floating scent into the air?

I wonder if the troll’s afraid of Jimmy’s teddy bear.

 

Is there an exterminator trained in mythic creatures?

Or is this a dilemma solved by kindergarten teachers?

I am sure that there’s a troll here and I don’t know what to do.

If a troll was in your bedroom, then whatever would you do?

 

Please feel free to let me know what you would do to get the troll out of your bedroom

… or a stubborn thought out of your head.

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Bad Hair Day

In the shower this morning I got thinking about bad hair.070

I can’t count the number of times in my life I’ve said, “I’m having a bad hair day”

But today I asked myself, “What makes hair bad?”

It’s just hair.

Immediately, I got a visual in my head…the hair stealing the bobby pins saying,

“I’ve got your bobby pins and I’m not afraid to use them!”

As my laughter died down, I realized something…what made my hair ‘bad’ was the fact that it did not do what I wanted it to do right at the exact moment I was asking it.  It did not lay down quietly with no objections.  It seemed to have a mind of it’s own…independent ideas.  It wanted to do what it wanted to do instead of what I wanted it to do. And I responded, “BAD HAIR!!”

Then it occurred to me how much of this same ‘badness’ I had been carrying around with me and throwing onto my children, my husband, and myself.

Bad Vicki…you’re getting too wild here…settle down.

Bad Vicki…just sit down quietly and don’t make a scene.

Bad Vicki…you aren’t doing what you are told! I asked you to do something so stop what you’re doing right now and do what I said!  Listen to me!  Do it my way!

So I’m not saying I want to get completely unruly and I do want my hair to have some degree of composure, but I do have to ask…

What if we allowed ourselves, our children, and our hair, to get a little out of control without throwing on the badness card?  Would that create total anarchy, uncontrolled chaos, and an eternal afterlife of damnation? Or would it merely open the door to a little more self-expression in the world?  Allowing each person, and lock, a chance to be independent and unique without severe judgment and retribution?

On that note, I will share a poem with you that came to life on one of my bad hair days.  I give voice to all the unruly,  locks that merely want a little self-expression.

Bad Hair Day

I woke up this morning and showered away

As I primped up, my hair…it had something to say

“I want to be frizzy, I want to be wild”

“Don’t want to be smoothed down, or tied up, or mild”

“If you try to contain me, I’m gonna’ rebel”

“And don’t even think about hair spray or gel”

Oh, I would not have that.  I got out my brush.

I had to look good and was quite in a rush

I straightened, I braided, I clipped and I curled

As I finished and looked up, my hair…it unfurled

It stuck out and poked out and curled the wrong way

And there in plain sight (it was taunting me)…grey

Oh, I don’t have time for this.  I need to go.

My hair must be perfect.  But wouldn’t you know…

I brushed my hair left.  My hair took a right.

At this rate, I’d still be disheveled tonight.

I tried with my iron, I tried with my crimper

I tried to add body.  My hair just got limper.

I added more product.  I added more mousse.

My bad hair day continued until I called a truce.

My hair got it’s way.  It’s as simple as that.

My hair, it had won.  And I put on a hat.

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