Poems By Cookie

That Kid is still wreaking havoc with my mental abilities so today I have a guest writer. I would like to intoduce you to my lovely daughter, Cookie. Cookie loves to read and is a very talented writer. She has even been promised her own blog just as soon as she finishes one of her very many stories. Suffering from a life long bought of story-ending-writer's-block she is taking a momentary reprieve and has been focusing on poetry as a way to relieve the stress =).

Here are my favorite poems written by the wonderfully talented, 9 year old, Cookie. *Clap, clap, clap*

A Poem

A poem is something that comes from the heart.

Sometimes a poem will be mostly art.

Sometimes poems are long, while others are not.

But we can write poems with whatever we've got.

In a scribble, a scrawly, a column, or chart,

A poem is something that comes from the heart.

The Hyena

The hyena is smiley,

Not to mention wiley.

He ate my sister, Kylie,

And my best friend, Riley,

And he spit the bones out skyly.

So, don't talk to the hyena, even though he's smiley.

What's Under My Bed

Shoelace

Yo-yo

Piece of string

chess piece

fuzzball

broken ring

cobweb

sticker

gummy bear

spider

and my sister,

Claire.

Cute Little Gossip Story

GOSSIP

Have you ever heard of Gossip Town, on the shores of Falsehood Bay,

Where Old Dame Rumor with rustling gown, is going the live long day?

It isn't far to Gossip Town, for the people who want to go.

The Idleness Train will take you down in just an hour or so.

The Thoughtless Road is a popular route, and most folks start out that way.

But it is a steep downgrade; if you don't look out, you'll land in Falsehood Bay.

You glide through the Valley of Vicious Folk, and into the Tunnel of Hate.

Then crossing the Attitude Bridge, you walk right into the city gate.

The principle street is called 'They Say', ans 'I've Heard' is the public well.

And the breezes that blow from Falsehood Bay are laden with 'Don't You Tell'.

In the midst of the town is Telltale Park. You're never quite safe while there;

For it's owner is Madame Suspicious Remark, who lives on the street, 'Don't Care'..

Just back of the park is Slanderer's Row. 'Twas there that Good Name died;

Pierced by a dart from Jealousy's Bow, in the hands of Envious Pride.

From Gossip Town, Peace long has fled, but Trouble, Grief, and Woe,

Sorrow, and Care you'll meet instead, if ever you chance to go.

~Anon.

Poetry

I used to love writing poetry. I can't recall what made me stop. I must have let myself become too practical to have time for it? Well, today I had some fun with it again. Last Friday my DSSH told me about Yahoo answers, (if you know me then you know I love telling people how to run their lives). So, I signed up on yahoo answers so I could start bossing people around. I was having a lot of fun doing that when I noticed they had a literary section. In there I was having fun giving people my interpretations on Shakespeare, etc. From there I noticed that there was a poetry section. For laughs I quickly perused it's offerings. One guy had asked that people quickly write a poem about "secret love" off the top of their head. I decided to take his challenge to see if I still had any words in me. It was so fun that I quickly looked for others like this. Here are the end results of my foray into poetry today:

Quick poem about "Secret Love":

Thrilling and enticing, in its guilt it was discovered
The passion, like embers, can only live when covered
This raging inferno could never stand the test
So secretly it's kept where life will not molest
To bare itself is to kill itself
To ask for more is to hurt yourself
Beautiful in its lies
Expose it and it dies


Write an acrostic poem about food:

Pretty aprons
And time with grandma
No, time will not erase
Cherished moments
A life well shared
Keep love in this space.
Every time I eat one
She smiles from heaven's place


Quickly write a short poem:

Opening my hand, it is easy to do.
Wiggling my fingers, I see you can do it too.
The joints all bend, the muscles all move
With all of this it should be easy to do.
But, somehow, it takes more;
Much more than I posses,
To reach this hand of mine towards yours
And receive your offered caress.

This one isn't a poem, but a definition. Someone asked for the definition of love and I wrote:

Love is the ability and willingness to suffer


It was very fun playing with words again. I think I will do this again, hopefully at least once a week.