The Sunshine Factor

where sunshine is a way of life

Tag Archives: Poetry


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Sisters

sisters are gifts!

sisters are gifts!

SISTERS*
by Debb Stanton

There are many types of sisters out there
the kind you are blood sisters with
the ones you choose to consider to be your sisters
and the Sisters in the Catholic Church
(I am not Catholic, but I appreciate the Benedectine order)

The nuns are the lucky ones:
they get to devote their whole lives, their whole beings to God
It’s nice to have a sister in your blood family:
she shares your beginnings
The ones you find along life’s way
to brighten your life and brighten your day —
now THOSE are the major finds of a life!

This is to my sister
(the find along the way kind):
I love how you:
make me smile
make me laugh
make me think
make me feel
bring hope alive
dole out courage
are always there
won’t give up on me
are the ideal friend, too

Know that I love you
I pray for you
I am inspired by you
I am proud to know you
I am blessed to know you
and I am healed

* Lovingly dedicated to you-know-who
300px-Natural_blonde


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Happy Anniversary to my Love!

I have a husband sweet

he makes me feel complete

It was just a year ago today

we joined together on life’s way

Love-Birds-Peace-and-Free-500x312
This year went by so fast

No question that we will last

I love you, David, with all my heart and soul

and the wonder of a newborn foal

never losing one another again is our goal

On us, nothing will take its toll

I’ll be loving you forever

our strong bond of marriage, nothing will sever

Happy Anniversary, Honey!

~~ Debb


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The Adventure of Debb’s Blog and Her New Trail: Part Five

In taking a hard look at my blog, I enjoyed having a mixture of posts – recipes, poems, stories, articles…but I wanted more.  I wanted artwork from children and adults filling up the blog, along with guest poems and articles.  I wanted to have (and give my readers) it all!  So the next question was:  so where can I get all this additional writing?  The answer came to me when I defined what my blog is.

I call this blog and its readership a community of people with the same goal and focus:  finding the sunshine in your life in spite of sometimes negative circumstances.  Hmmm….a community thrives on its citizens all contributing in their own special way.  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Our Sunshine community could do that – offer up their own kinds of sunshine to the community.  We could be enriching each other’s lives!  The extra photos, art, book reviews, stories, poems, articles would fit into that niche in a grand fashion!

If I could write for my blog two weeks out of the month, and write my various projects in the other two weeks, how fantastic would that be?!  I had been having a conflict within myself about writing the blog so much I was neglecting the other part of my writing life.  Here, my friends, was my answer.  If I created a new website with a lot to read, enough to keep people busy for a month, I could do all my writing!  AND get my friends involved in a great project, too!  🙂

Next up:  Where Debb’s trail ends up and announcement of The Great Launch – coming soon to a computer near you!

 


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Time Out

TIME OUT

I’ve been a busy writer

up until now usually posting each day

Now a big deadline is looming

and lo and behold —

I can’t do it all

 

The conversation I had with myself:

“But people expect you to write every day”.

Not to worry, they can catch up with the Archives

“You might lose viewers and followers.”

Maybe they’d rather see good posts less often

than every day lukewarm posts

“But isn’t this like acknowledging defeat?”

No, it’s called taking care of myself

It’s acknowledging that I’m not Superwoman

If I don’t care of me and my Muse

then there isn’t much I can give others

“Oh, I see, maybe this is okay?”

Forget the maybes

this is a bonafide fact

there are some blogging rules better left for the perfectionists

and yes, it’s okay

“But won’t people forget you?”

No.  They know that they’re always number one in my heart

and they can write to me any time

and we can still be in touch

“But when will you start posting regularly again?”

You are still worrying, I see

I will let them know  that *maybe*

the second full week in November is the target date

“Oh, okay, but what should the readers do in the meantime?”

Consider reading and responding to the post

“Exciting New Project!” from October 15

 

With love,

Later, my dear readers ~~

Debb

 

castle-by-lake_w725_h544


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Poetry Saturday: Aware

AWARE

Micah watches Rachael constantly

Rachael comes to Micah’s aid whenever he cries

They have a sturdy communication system going on

 

Even when sleeping

they are totally aware

of the other’s presence

 

Like siblings do,

they want equal attention

and more of Mom’s time

 

Who are Micah and Rachael?

They are my fur babies:

totally aware cats


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Saturday Poetry:

 

George has taken leave of his senses

He ought to be out mending fences

But no, he is just outside strolling along

They label him “strong”

 

Mabel is outside, too

checking which of her flowers grew

She is content to stay here

She is fine, thank you, never fear

 

George appears outside Mabel’s garden gate

Ooh, is this going to be their fate?

That the two “misfits” fit well together

as beautiful as Scottish heather?

 

We shall have to see

what fate awaits them

whether they’ll find each other at last

or just let another chance go by

 

Wildflowers


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Stories

I am a music lover who particularly enjoys songs that tell a story. (I’m not surprised, since I like stories so much.) The more you listen to a story song, the more details you pick up. Stories can bring on many different emotions and can teach you something, if you’re paying attention.

I think human beings are a form of storytelling. Sometimes there’s plenty of action or suspense or mystery going on in their lives, questions to be answered, character descriptions…

What story are you telling by the way you live your life? Do people see the real you, or are you an actor portraying yourself?

Let’s carry this one step further. If you were a story or a book, what type would you be? Adventure, comedy, poetry? Sunshine Factor wants to know. Please let me hear from you soon. Thanks!

00000——–> the zeros are a gift to you from my cat Rachael.

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Erik Andrulis

August 10, 2013

Erik writes:

I found this poem, “Warm from Cold,” in my notebook as dated 1/18/88.  However, I think the original version of this poem dates back to 1986.  The poem tells the story of a common occurrence when I was a child – my mother sending me out into the cold—out to play in the snow—only to have her welcome me back into the warm: in front of the fire, the warm hot chocolate, the warmth of her love.

” Warm from Cold”

Covered with a scratch wool scarf

an itchy wool hat,

(that the moths had never reached),

two unmatched mittens,

scritchy stretchy socks,

with sandwich baggies over them

(so my socks and toes wouldn’t get wet),

rubber golashes with metal clasps,

shoulder-strap ski pants,

and broken zippered jacket

held together by safety pins

(broken in by my brother),

my mother sent me out —

into the pouring snow,

to prance, to parade,

to frolic

in blissful pageantry,

to roll, to throw, to build

with eternal creativity—

only to return

to a state of time,

soaked and frosty

from head to toe.

She would then proceed

to peel off my layers,

wrap me in a warm blanket,

sit me down before

the crackling, sparkling, warming fire, give me graham crackers

and hot chocolate

with tiny marshmallows

served on that old wooden tray,

then sit down beside me

read me a book

tell me she loved me

thaw me close

and rock me to sleep.

This poem makes me want to go play in the snow!  I think a poem is truly successful when it brings the reader back in time where one can experience all their senses through the poem’s words, such as this one.  Thanks for guesting, Erik!  :)

Debb


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Poetry Saturday: Guest Poem

Today I turn the “podium” over to my friend Erik Andrulis from http://erikandrulis.wordpress.com.  I am thrilled that he shares such a wonderful memory…

Erik writes:

I found this poem, “Warm from Cold,” in my notebook as dated 1/18/88.  However, I think the original version of this poem dates back to 1986.  The poem tells the story of a common occurrence when I was a child – my mother sending me out into the cold—out to play in the snow—only to have her welcome me back into the warm: in front of the fire, the warm hot chocolate, the warmth of her love.

” Warm from Cold”

Covered with a scratch wool scarf,
an itchy wool hat,
(that the moths had never reached),
two unmatched mittens,
scritchy stretchy socks,
with sandwich baggies over them
(so my socks and toes wouldn’t get wet),
rubber golashes with metal clasps,
shoulder-strap ski pants,
and broken zippered jacket
held together by safety pins
(broken in by my brother),
my mother sent me out—
into the pouring snow,
to prance, to parade, to frolic
in blissful pageantry,
to roll, to throw, to build
with eternal creativity—
only to return
to a state of time,
soaked and frosty
from head to toe.

She would then proceed
to peel off my layers,
wrap me in a warm blanket,
sit me down before
the crackling, sparkling, warming fire,
give me graham crackers
and hot chocolate
with tiny marshmallows
served on that old wooden tray,
then sit down beside me
read me a book
tell me she loved me
thaw me close
and rock me to sleep.

This poem makes me want to go play in the snow!  I think a poem is truly successful when it brings the reader back in time where one can experience all their senses through the poem’s words, such as this one.  Thanks for guesting today, Erik!  🙂

Debb

 

 

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Poetry Saturday: Perilous Punctuation

 I used to practice different forms of poetry on Saturdays.  Today I am going to use the simple style of no punctuation whatsoever.  My free form poetry tends to run this way, but I think it will be hard not to stick some punctuation in here and there.  I’ll even say:  no capital letters except for the title.  Hmm, I sense a story coming on….

PERILOUS PUNCTUATION

i had a beautiful dream this morning

where i was on a highway riding a bike

yet it was a bike that had a steering wheel

as i steered all i could see was the beautiful sky

during my favorite part of the morning

early dawn with pinks and blues and teals

i couldn’t see the road

and hoped to god that i would not crash

then i wondered what would sentences do

if they did not have punctuation

would life be an aimless adventure

like in my dream

the punctuation marks all came to my mind

and stood like a small army

they took on human characteristics

and i got to know them more fully

 

the period was a travel agent

he said you have to get done seeing one country

before you pass into another

 

the question mark raised her eyebrows

indicating her questioning nature

 

the semi colon was a pair of twins

the period and the comma wondered why

they could not be one mark or another

 

the quotation marks

were the opera singer’s arms

as she stuck them out wide with a flourish

to announce a coming high note

felt from the heart and voiced with the lips
the commas

felt like rubber duckies on a conveyer belt

the series of words or list of words they surrounded

just kept coming and coming and coming

 

the colon was a football coach

who announced the coming plays

when he did this you knew you should pay attention

 

the asterisk was a detective

first he had you read one clue

and then find him at the end

where he would give you the explanation or meaning

of what went down

 

The parentheses were a comedian

who explained things

so you could get the jokes

 

that my friend is

what i saw some punctuation marks as

if i left some out

please grace us with your vision

of the forgotten ones

and realize

the only capital letters

i had to make lower case

were my i s.

L:)

Please note:  next Saturday, August 10, Sunshine Factor will welcome a guest poet to our Poetry Saturday.  You won’t want to miss it!

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Sunday Showcase 7/28/13

child-in-the-garden.jpg

Greetings, friends.

My friend Lyn from http://theencouragingscribe.wordpress.com writes:   “I’ve just discovered this blog, but I’m amazed by the talent of this dear lady. Her “about” is so encouraging and the start of her “Marie” story had me laughing and crying Her latest poem is beautiful and sad. So without further ado, I give you Len Williams-Carver http://myownheart.me/”

This same lovely friend and encourager wrote me this comment, and I share it with you because it is worthy of being in a showcase!  (I have changed nothing except add an addition ‘b’ in my name:)

There is a young lady called Debb
Who wanders around the web
Posting poems, and wisdom and sometimes a pic
She’s funny, and silly and chic
Helping out where she can
Where woman or man
She shares treasures she’s read
I read her Sunday Showcase in bed
A hard road of illness she’s trod
But her faith is solidly in God

Thanks Lyni!   The first poem that’s ever been written about me – I love it!  xxoo

See y’all next week!Take a rest park bench


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Poetry Saturday: Animals and Their Language

Golden RetrieverAnimals have a way of communicating with us
having nothing to do with words

They don’t ponder if they’re going to communicate
but communicate, they do.

On a pre-dawn walk this week
I saw Matthew and his dog Buddy

I called Buddy’s name
I could see the hello in his eyes
and the rhythmic wag of his tail
“Mrs. S!” he seemed to say
even though his lips did not move at all

When I got home from my walk
My cats communicated with me too

Micah circled my legs and gave me a head bump
Rachael ran toward her momma and “chirped” with her tiny little voice

I don’t think my household could ever be without a pet
we would miss the little signs of love and acceptance shown by them

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Inspiration – a Poem

I think it would be inspiring to visit a castle like this!

I think it would be inspiring to visit a castle like this!

INSPIRATION

Inspiration like wisdom

is sometimes fleeting

you have to give it all you’ve got

to not lose what you’ve been given

 

Inspiration is like a friendly spirit

who aims to bless people

if they will but take notice of her

and let her help them beautify their world

 

Who can beautify their world?

Everyone whom Inspiration visits

those who are considerate of others

those who listen to guidance from above

 

Taking the high road takes courage

but it is better than taking the easy road

the lower road, one that leads to a cliff

Inspiration tends to live on the high road

 

Do not scoff at Inspiration

or tell her to go away

if spurned or ignored often enough

she will do just that

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Sunday is Coming…Please submit your favorite post of last week!

Wow, it’s that time of week again when I ask you to send me your favorite posts from last week – those you or other people wrote.  Photos are another good find to be celebrated.   I will post them on “Sunday Showcase” tomorrow morning.

You can email me the link or links to at:  debbstanton@yahoo.com.  My mailbox, who feels empty lately, and I would feel much obliged.  🙂

 

See you tomorrow!

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Poetry Saturday – A Singing Poem

This week’s poem will use personalization of an inanimate object AND be written with a song melody in mind.  See if you can figure out what song was on my mind when I wrote this!

 

O Chocolate,

I long to have you!

Go away, you toothless menace!

You bother me

and give me headaches

Go away and I’ll be healthy now

and no more tummy aches, either.

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Tom Lucas

February 10, 2013

 

It’s Hard to Move Slowly

I was in Cape Canaveral driving

Headed to a housewarming

Not sure where I was going

The first time driving somewhere

Is always a bit irritating.

Silence, looking for the turn

GPS barks “turn right”

So I do. It’s not the

Right turn at all.

I turned right, but it wasn’t right.

It was some dead-end RV park

As dead as Cape Canaveral dreams.

Ratty metal boxes, and a single dirt road

I wanted out fast, but had to go slow.

Stupid 5 mph speed limit in the joint.

I can’t go 5 miles per hour.

I can’t even sit at 5 miles per hour.

So I didn’t. I needed to get back on track.

Then, from somewhere unseen

A voice yells, “SLOW DOWN!”

Dammit, really?

This is how you spend your day?

I’m not even supposed to be here.

This wasn’t my choice of destination.

Part of me wanted to stop the car and smack this guy.

Instead, I kept going and eventually

Made it out and to the party.

But I thought about that voice

And who was behind it.

A lone guardsman against perceived chaos.

Sitting deep in a sea of aging tin cans

Retirement plans choked by weeds

A sad dirt road winding through them

On a chair, staring at the blankness of it all.

I never want to be that guy.

by Tom Lucas

(http://readtomlucas.com)


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Nesher Ehrman

April 7, 2013

 I asked myself the other day,
Why am I a writer, what made me that way?
That question’s ad hominem, it asks about me,
But it’s true of all writers, counting you thine and thee
Because when you sit, and examine that question
Writing’s more than a job, not just a profession
A person who writes, whether tiny or small
Is always unique, from the first word they scrawl
So now, let me see, we’ve defined some new terms,
A writer’s a creature, not a snail or some germs
But how do they form? Do they pass some hard test?
Or perhaps are they hatched, from an egg, in a nest?
Now I still don’t have an answer to the question I asked,
But now I have new ones, they are rising quite fast
Is there more than one kind, is it decided by age
Can a man be a writer if he’s not old and sage?
To answer all this we might have to digress
Because it is I who must also confess
I don’t have the answers, I don’t know who’s a writer
I just know that I am one, more than lover or fighter
And I don’t know you, I can’t tell if you are
I don’t know if you rhyme or your thinking’s bizarre
Yet one thing I’ll say, and this fact I ensure
If you think you’re a writer, then you are, to be sure
by Nesher Ehrman


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Poetry Saturday

Pity by William Blake, 1795, Tate Britain, is ...

Pity by William Blake, 1795, Tate Britain, is an illustration of two similes in Macbeth: “And pity, like a naked new-born babe, / Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, hors’d / Upon the sightless couriers of the air”. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s poetry style will use similes:  comparisons of the qualities or attributes of two things, usually using ‘like’ or ‘as’.

 

The moon is like the sun

both are adored and studied by many

 

Love is like hate

both are very strong emotions

 

Debb is as funny

as a clown whose pants fall down

 

My readers

are like beautiful stars at night

as breathtaking as beauty

and each shining and sparkling in their own way


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The Little Things DO Matter

Vegetables in a grocery store, Paris, France.

Vegetables in a grocery store, Paris, France. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I advocate appreciating even the small things in one’s life.  Sometimes they can make you feel better than big, expensive things.  For those of you who have been following me a long time, please forgive this repeat:  I’ll never forget when I had cancer, and when I went to my regular grocery store, where you have to bag your own groceries, the lady and her son ahead of me in line bagged my groceries as soon as they heard the clerk ask me how I was getting along.  That small act of kindness and compassion became very big in my heart (and resides there still).

When my dad posed as Santa Claus and handed out candy to kids in that Michigan grocery store, he gave candy to even the senior citizens.  One lady cried because someone had taken two minutes to speak to her in a kind way, and then she didn’t have to feel forgotten.

Sunday morning I had my hot water and lemon juice before my walk, but nothing after that for several hours.  My getting sick to my stomach was a signal to my poor body that it needed hydration – and fast!  I would have felt much better if I had remembered to take care of myself – going to write instead of drinking a glass of water after my walk was just the reverse of what I needed.

And most of you know me by now:  I love to write poetry.    🙂  So, I will write a poem regarding what we have just been discussing.

THE LITTLE THINGS

Let your mouth take in food and drink

they will help you exist more fully.

 

Let your eyes see the beauty in the every day

and learn to ignore the slights against you

 

Let your feet move to assist those who need you

instead of being quiet and bored

 

Let your hands give gifts of love to those around you

or accept help if that is what is called for

 

Let your heart stay pure

never regarding anyone’s motives except your own

 

Let your brain be renewed daily

by choosing only the important things to think about

 

Use your whole body to help others

and yourself

Of this, life is made


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Poetry Saturday

Stallion

Stallion (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hello folks ~

If I write a limerick, it is usually for a Poetry Saturday.  I still laugh at the one I wrote in April, so I am posting it again.  Hope you like it!

NaPoWriMo #24

LIMERICK

He was Italian

and even owned a stallion

He frequented the House of Bernaducci

where the guests wore clothes from Gucci.

That was, of course, before he joined the battalion.

He was a brave man, fearless and bold

there never was a thought that he would get old

He weathered the war then to his home went back

Sadly he suffered a heart attack

simply because his stallion had been sold.

His wife, she was a strange one

never smiled at him till her work was done

She cooked, she cleaned, she stewed

“I work too hard,” was her attitude

She could not loosen up, for she didn’t know how to have fun.

Then one day the Italian and his wife were together

the wife decided to cut her husband’s tether

She wanted to treat him better

told him this without writing a letter

and kissed him, lightly as a feather.


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NaPoWriMo #30

English: The title page of Poems in two volume...

English: The title page of Poems in two volumes, the series of works by William Wordsworth. Original work was published before 1923 (US) and unknown authorship before 1939 (UK). It would be impractical, and I believe impossible, to find who originally held the copyright, and its status now. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Illustration of "The Trusting Child"...

Illustration of “The Trusting Child”, a poem by Lydia Sigourney which appeared in Poems for the Sea, Hartford: H.S. Parsons & Co., 1850. Page 41. See http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Index:Poems_for_the_Sea.djvu (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Village Blacksmith Poem (Longfellow)

The Village Blacksmith Poem (Longfellow) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Title page, Poems Upon Several Occasions (1748...

Title page, Poems Upon Several Occasions (1748) by Mary Leapor (1722-1746) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Frontispiece to Phillis Wheatley's Po...

English: Frontispiece to Phillis Wheatley’s Poems on Various Subjects… Русский: Филлис Уитли, портрет из сборника её стихов. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rossetti was interested in figures locked in e...

Rossetti was interested in figures locked in embrace; cf. the embracing figures at the bottom of the Mystical Nativity (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I did it!  I wrote 30 poems in 30 days!  Here is my last poem for NaPoWriMo 2013:

 

Here we are

at the end of the month already

and we’ve written so many poems

Feels good, doesn’t it?

 

All good things eventually end

but we can look forward to next April.

Shall we try the NaNoWriMo in November?

Maybe the adventurous will

(the jury is still out on whether I will be in that group or not).

 


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NaPoWriMo #29

DahliaPRETTY FLOWER

My, but she’s a pretty one

you would never know that she wanted to roll up her leaves

dry up

stop the admiration of others

and just start  life again as a tiny, precious splash of color

 

She is beautiful but very fragile

very delicate indeed

yet her stem is strong

and she sure has had her times of windy weather

threatening to blow her down

 

The deer and squirrels have chewed at her bulb

and root rot threatened to destroy

She’s been trampled by kids and stray baseballs

and dogs wanting to use her soil as a place for their bones

but she’s still here

 

Pretty Flower reached a turning point lately

it happened during the April Snow of ’13

If I can get through this, she thought

then I can get through anything

Maybe all these bad things happening to me

is the secret to my strength

 

Now I don’t want to curl up and die

it’s much too soon for that

I have a life to be lived

it is right here, right now

and I am whole

 

 


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NaPoWriMo #21

Inside of a Grand Piano

Inside of a Grand Piano (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Oops!  It looks like I did not post a NaPoWriMo for the 21st.  Here it is…

THE GLISSANDO MOMENT

I took a long, beautiful walk this morning

enjoying the spring sights, smells, and sounds

when I was particularly entranced by a grand piano

that was next to someone’s window

 

I’ve walked past that house hundreds of times

but today for some reason was different

I think I was remembering my piano-playing days

not to mention, when I saw the piano today

the word “glissando” immediately came to mind

 

The flourish of my right arm

and the graceful twist of my right wrist

used to help my fingers travel up the keyboard

and let loose some beautiful sounds

 

Oh Debbie, remember loving the piano?

You could display a wide range of emotions

right then and there on one instrument

It was fun to play classical music and even ragtime

popular songs too and soul-comforting stuff

until of course you were forced to stop playing

 

I wish I had never stop stopped

It’s beyond me now

but I still to this day

wonder if my talent is still around


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NaPoWriMo #25

THOROUGH THURSDAY

Poor Thursday often gets mal-aligned
You’ve already had quite a busy week
and you can taste the weekend
but it hasn’t come yet

So on Thursday you sit
feel like working not one bit
Be careful not to have a fit
Gather together and use all your wit

Be as thorough today as you can be
and pretty soon relief you will see
because in being careful and working hard
the weekend will come and you won’t feel like lard

a nice weekend is coming soon!

a nice weekend is coming soon!


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NaPoWriMo #24

LIMERICK
He was Italian
and even owned a stallion
He frequented the House of Bernaducci
where the guests wore clothes from Gucci.
That was, of course, before he joined the battalion.

He was a brave man, fearless and bold
there never was a thought that he would get old
He weathered the war then to his home went back
Sadly he suffered a heart attack
simply because his stallion had been sold.

His wife, she was a strange one
never smiled at him till her work was done
She cooked, she cleaned, she stewed
“I work too hard,” was her attitude
She could not loosen up, for she didn’t know how to have fun.

Then one day the Italian and his wife were together
the wife decided to cut her husband’s tether
She wanted to treat him better
told him this without writing a letter
and kissed him, lightly as a feather.


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NaPoWriMo #20

English: Uppercase and lowercase Greek letter ...

English: Uppercase and lowercase Greek letter wau (digamma), an archaic letter of the Greek alphabet. Times New Roman font alike. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

ALWAYS

He recalled the days back in college
before he went to the seminary
how he loved a sweet girl
how she gloriously turned his life upside down

He was in love with another
and planned to marry her
but the sweet girl was firmly in his heart
even though she had told him he had to choose between she and her

He graduated from pre-sem then
nevermore to see the sweet one
Sure, he continued to write to her for a short while
he couldn’t forget her smile
her warmth, her infectious laugh, her wit

One day he decided to become very transparent
but yet he was scared to admit he shouldn’t love her
He wrote her something Greek in one of his letters
surely she would never catch on, but at least he was able to state his feelings

The sweet girl of course had feelings for him too
took the letter to her minister so he could translate the Greek
the letter said “I will always love you”
and the love that was great between them was confirmed

Years went by and he married his first love
and the sweet girl found a husband that adored her
they live in different states
but even now she thinks of him fondly


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NaPoWriMo #18

HOUSECLEANING

Clean and polish

vaccuum and dust

why can’t I do it once and for all?

No, this is a regular occurrence

 

Oh, but nature is like that too

God in his artistic intelligence

created seasons and time

the tide going in and out

the moon and sun moving on their courses

 

I enjoy his artwork

and I also enjoy the results of my housecleaning

I guess all is well with cycles, seasons, and duties

____

Hope you are enjoying the fruits of your labor today!  🙂


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NaPoWriMo #17

 

Some things just don’t make sense

even if you’re on the fence.

It’s hard to stay sane

when all that  people around you care about is the mundane.

 

Hey brother, can you spare a smile?

Get rid of my inner bile?

Or better yet, take me away

‘Twould be good to see the Bay.

 

I need you so very much

to you and my friends I need to clutch

till this problem is over

and I can run and laugh in fields of clover.

Dear readers:  please add me to your prayer list today; it would be much appreciated.  Debb

 


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NaPoWriMo #11

Writing

Writing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

BEING

If you ask me, I’d rather be writing

I’m not into fighting.

To write is the greatest thing in the world

Let the flags be unfurled.

It is important to find your place

whether it’s running a country or running a race.

To be who you are meant to be

Is for everyone my humble plea.

Remember you have power

even in the shower

to hear your heart’s call

and for nothing less fall.


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NaPoWriMo #8

English: Is a photo of a turkey Català: És una...

English: Photo of a proud tom turkey Català: És una fotografia d’un gall dindi en epoca d’aparellament (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

CAT STORY:  RACHAEL AND THE TURKEYS

You remember that Rachael is our newest cat?

She is very small and classier than the Cat in the Hat.

Every early morning she rushes to her favorite place

to see her favorite wild turkeys almost face to face.

Almost all year three tom turkeys stroll past

and look for food by our front deck.

Lately the hens hang out, they make their visit last

and watch the tom with the scrawny neck.

The hens could about Tom care less

Even as he puts on his courting show.

His tail feathers fan out for who he admires, Bess,

He really hopes she won’t say no.

Today Tom again came calling

but lo, his confidence is falling.

The hens had already come and gone,

They weren’t interested in his feathery brawn.

Rachael waits for the hens to come back,

she seems to be on their side.

She’s concerned about the hens and their lack

and wants her Mama to bring them inside.


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Guest Poet Spot

Hello, Readers!

Today Nesher from http://nesherehrman.wordpress.com

db0e04f57d34ef7d818369644a4413bcNesherpicture

joins Sunshine Factor as a guest poet.   He’s a relatively new WordPress blogger, but I think his work is simply divine.   My dashboard, though, did not allow spaces between the paragraphs – sorry Nesher!  He wrote this in stanzas of four lines each.

Look at this:

 I asked myself the other day,
Why am I a writer, what made me that way?
That question’s ad hominem, it asks about me,
But it’s true of all writers, counting you thine and thee
Because when you sit, and examine that question
Writing’s more than a job, not just a profession
A person who writes, whether tiny or small
Is always unique, from the first word they scrawl
So now, let me see, we’ve defined some new terms,
A writer’s a creature, not a snail or some germs
But how do they form? Do they pass some hard test?
Or perhaps are they hatched, from an egg, in a nest?
Now I still don’t have an answer to the question I asked,
But now I have new ones, they are rising quite fast
Is there more than one kind, is it decided by age
Can a man be a writer if he’s not old and sage?
To answer all this we might have to digress
Because it is I who must also confess
I don’t have the answers, I don’t know who’s a writer
I just know that I am one, more than lover or fighter
And I don’t know you, I can’t tell if you are
I don’t know if you rhyme or your thinking’s bizarre
Yet one thing I’ll say, and this fact I ensure
If you think you’re a writer, then you are, to be sure
—-
Thanks, Nesher, for the good material in this post!  Debb


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NaPoWriMo #7

Papyrus Migraine Therapy

Papyrus Migraine Therapy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

MIGRAINES

Migraines:

what a pain.

It is them I disdain.

I have had both kinds

sort of like if I were to eat lemon rinds.

One is of the migraine headache kind,

a more painful thing you cannot find.

The kind I have had lately,

is the kind that is in your eyeball sedately.

It gives no pain,

but you sure get a fantastic light show.

You don’t feel quite yourself

unless, of course, you are an elf.

I now, once again,

practice all the things I can to keep them away.

When they go away for good,

it will be a grand day!

(But no light shows to celebrate, okay?)


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NaPoWriMo #6

THE RESPONSE FROM AN EATING DISORDERED PERSON

 

Eating Disorder, Ed,

let go of your hooks in me.

Your thinking is strange and perverted

Making me wonder how I ever listened to you.

It was difficult as a child

not to listen to you

since your comfort was there

anytime I needed it.

Much later, sure it was fun

weight lifting and doing cardio

till I was buff and “hot”,

but it was an empty victory.

I had worked on my physical self

and didn’t even know about my insides.

 

Now I know

there is more to life than physical looks.

It is inner beauty I am aiming for instead.

I am embracing health and good practices

not to reach a deadline or number on the scale,

but to enjoy and last for a lifetime.

I am gathering some of what you stole from me

as my eating disorder program providers

tell me I’m doing great.

Food does not take me to Nirvana,

but it is simply fuel for my body.

 

You asked me why I’m not on a diet.

I am not into quick fixes,

and the scale is a hideous way to measure success.

That’s how you survive, Ed,

by having people search for quick fixes.

Well, Ed Monster,

I am through with you.

I’m choosing life today,

a physical, emotional, mental way to live well

and a life everlasting.

Go to hell, Ed!

 


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NaPoWriMo #4

 

Yes, we have some bananas

We have some bananas today!

 

Yes, I know some poets

I’ve met them all on WordPress

I want to thank you all for following me

because you’re the greatest around!

 

I’m not writing stories currently,

Poems and anti-perfectionism need me;

but I’m wondering in my fair audience

if someone wants to be a storyteller with me.

 

We would have a blog on WordPress,

same blog and different story tellers.

Oh, the twists and turns a story could take!

I am REALLY hoping you”ll partake.

 

Please take good care of yourself,

remember you are friends with a silly girl called Elf.

She will make you laugh, guaranteed

for your laugh you won’t have to plead.

 

Tally ho, dear friend Moe ~

let’s write some poetry on the go.

 


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NaPoWriMo #3

English: Photograph by Mario Vaden, at Simpson...

English: Photograph by Mario Vaden, at Simpson Reed Discovery Trail: Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park of Northern California. Image shows a large coast redwood trunk, with arborist Mario Vaden, aka M. D. Vaden, for size comparison. Category:Images of California (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Clouds in the sky,2

Clouds in the sky,2 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Renoir's painting of cabbage roses, Roses in a...

Renoir’s painting of cabbage roses, Roses in a vase (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

NATURE

A tree is a tree is a tree

whether sturdy, willowy, fragrant or pretty

A flower is always a flower

to make someone smile, this one has the power

Clouds roll in and clouds roll out

it’s hard to always guess their route

The sky is the king of expanse

at weddings, guests under it love to dance

Debbie – she does love to rhyme

she constantly does this – one rhyme at a time.


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NaPoWriMo Poem #2

 WASTELAND

The place – the horrid, horrid place

where no light ever comes

and everything is buzzing around or lost

 

This place resides within him,

this drug addict of old

What is this wasteland?

It is in his brain

the place where death and life are congruent

 

A map was never forged for this wasteland

and indeed, it was never wanted

but addiction made it impossible

to make good choices that used to be there

 

Nothing attainable anymore

No dreams, plans, wishes

or even Love

Wastelands generally don’t allow visitors

even if someone did want to visit

 

Barren, ancient, brittle

no longer can meet in the middle

Burned eggs stuffed in crevices

make up this former brain

All synapses are shot

Receptors don’t know that they are supposed to receive

 

It is possible

for a person to live when his brain is dead

but what kind of life can it be for him?

I wish I could give some hope,

understanding that he could feel

and the knowledge that actually,

yes indeed, God still cares

 

Related articles


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NaPoWriMo Poem #1

FOR THE LOVE OF POETRY

Poetry, we hail thee

as the messenger of good

the comfort of the ages

to whom we can go

with our pithy problems.

 

We can read thee

and never again be the same.

We can write poetry

and really notice a change.

 

I love you,

I devour you,

my thoughts are always on you.

 

My muse knew what she was doing

when she pointed the way

back in time to a little girl

rhyming and writing at a very young age,

for now I again need you

for full expression of everything inside me.


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New Series – Anti-perfectionism – To Start April 1st

New Series – Anti-perfectionism – To Start April 1st

by Trudy Ellis, roving reporter for FAPI

APRIL 1, 2013  (FAPI)

Mark your calendars and keep your eyes peeled – this is the date that word on the fake street has labeled as the start of a new series on a humble little blog called Sunshine Factor (on WordPress).  When I interviewed Debbie Loesel Stanton, author of Sunshine Factor blog, she had a delightful little story to tell me about how the idea for this series came to her.

“I usually get my ideas and inspiration for my posts either in the shower, on the road, or at work,” the author said as her eyes sparkled, “but on Easter morning in the pre-dawn the idea for this series came to me.  Still in my bed, I dismissed it as a weird dream and felt sure when I woke up the idea would make no sense to me.  Strangely, though, even when up and around the idea appealed to me.  It’s as if my Muse came to me and gave me an assignment.”

A reporter that has seen and heard a lot of strange things, I had to get to the heart of the matter.  “So is this really what you’re going to do?”  I asked Ms. Stanton.

“Yes, I am committed to the idea.  Who am I to say that my Muse is wrong?  I have a feeling that what I will learn is meant for me, but I am glad to share it.  Anyone who wants to come on this journey with me is welcome.   If learning how to get rid of perfectionism is not your bag, then you can look forward to my regular writing on Saturdays.”

“What’s special about Saturdays?” I had to know.

“Saturday is “Poetry Saturday” here on Sunshine Factor.   I write an original poem each Saturday, and sometimes I practice with a specific poetry style,” she answered, beaming.

This author is one bright lady!  It was as if I had walked into a wall of sunshine, so bright was her countenance!

Debbie Loesel Stanton will write one anti-perfectionism short for each day in April.   Considering the subject matter, is she being perfectionistic about her April writing goals?  No, she assures me, she writes a post a day regardless, so for her it will be continuing a practice she already has in place.  You can find her blog at https://sunshinefactor.wordpress.com.  Join us, won’t you?

Trudy Ellis

FAPI


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Poem

Very early morning,

I call in sick to work again

eat a small breakfast

take a shower

and lay back down in the living room

so as to not wake up my husband.

The lights from the metropolis south of here

warm up the sky

so it’s not perfectly dark out.

The trees  outside my window

are like unruly soldiers

some standing straight

some leaning as if elderly.

Winds light and variable

The new day begins,

and I shall go to the doctor.

 

English: The Poem

English: The Poem (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


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Poetry Saturday

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, today’s poetry style is in limerick form – the type of poem that originated in Ireland. 🙂

There’s something to be said for the wearing o’ the green
With pride, the wearer seems to have a certain sheen
The colorful St. Patrick’s Day parades can’t be beat
Last year St. Paul, MN had for its parade an outside temperature of high heat
All kinds of clothing types, including shorts, were seen.

But hey, aren’t limericks supposed to be funny?
Well yes, so our model can’t be a humble bunny.
I love to write limericks because I love to laugh
So I try to picture something funny, like a giraffe
Or a pair of costume-wearing, dancing walruses, now that’s a honey!

I hope you have a wonderful day
where your inner child can come out to play
Of a favorite beverage, take a sip
Before your brother on a watery floor will slip

One more stanza will do
I should write about the funny ewe
Who hid out on a ship
So her coat they couldn’t clip
Because unshorn sheep are far too few.


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Happy Birthday To My Love

English: A chocolate birthday cake

English: A chocolate birthday cake (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You are obviously not 13 anymore, but I had to picture a chocolate birthday cake 🙂

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR HUSBAND!

Another year has gone by

To recap all that happened, it would be hard to try

Times of despair

Times to care

But most of all Love

Sent straight from above

A woman who adores you

You even avoided the flu

You’re blossoming like a flower

Here it is, now is the hour

I hope you have a great, great day

The past has to stay away

God bless your new year

Your Dear is ever here, never fear.

(XX OO to RA)


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Poetry Saturday: Poverty

Cat, with its mouth open

Cat, with its mouth open (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s poem will use abstract or indefeinite nouns in a concrete or definite sense – i.e.

“He slaughtered his gluttony for it to be forever gone.”

POVERTY

She sat in the dark bedroom, pinching the pennies in her checkbook

hoping against hope that for getting out of this mess, there would be some salvation.

 

He wanted to fly amongst the clouds into infinity

and not have to worry about this thing called unemployment

 

Their little girl escaped into her safe place

to imagine the bill collectors falling off the steep front porch

after they beat down the door.

 

Her older brother struck out into the air with his fists

to punish Poverty for attempting to bother them.

He kicked the state of being morose

into the yawning, dark pit of hell.

 

The family pets,

a cat and a dog,

meowed and whined at the hunger in their little stomachs.

They wanted to go back to their ancestors,

to the jungles and hillsides

where there might be a little more food than here.

 

Salvation did eventually arrive, not a moment too soon

and made their hearts shine.

Charity saved the day

and blessed the giver of the money

as much as it had blessed this precious little family.

 

_______


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Poetry Saturday: “Winter Bliss”

Today’s poetry style is the occasional or random rhyme in a free verse poem – example:  

“They crossed the rocks in stocking feet

while the wind troubled locks of golden hair.”

This will take some effort for me because I am used to rhyming almost everything.  🙂

English: Snow covered trees.

English: Snow covered trees. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

WINTER BLISS

Maybe there is winter bliss after all

I hope you didn’t miss nature’s embroidery

that was strewn on the trees and bushes with a kiss

from Mother Nature.

 

A beautiful design in nature could be seen

there is nothing more fine than frosted branches

when a straight line you cannot find

in this sky-reaching embroidery vine of snow.

 

Stark, cold and beautiful

was this bold, generous display of Nature.

It never gets old, this gorgeous sight

If you miss it, you can’t experience it but only be told.

 

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