Houdini was a famous escape artist that was famous for getting out of impossible situations such as locked chains and closed chambers.
I think my socks are even more talented than Houdini at making escapes. I can count 6 black socks, 3 mated pairs, put them in with a load of clothes in the washer. Whenever the washer stops I put the ENTIRE load into the dryer which is immediately above my washer. Whenever the dryer timer sounds, I remove all the clothes and put them in a basket, carry to my made bed and dump them out to sort and fold. I fold all the clothes and mate the socks, but there is one of them missing. Only five socks. I retrace my steps to the dryer and look carefully inside. Empty. I remove the lint trap, it is full of lint but no sock. Then I reach into the washer and turn the gyrator and feel underneath. I even shine a flashlight inside, to no avail. Nothing. My sock must have escaped to Houdini heaven where all errant socks dance and laugh at us. At least every six months this ritual is repeated. Maybe the sock manufacturers pay a reward to Houdini Heaven since someone has to replace the missing argyle.
I moved to a farm that is upside down
The kittens they fly
and the eagles lie down
The pigs moo in their stall
While the dogs munch on corn
The sheep say neigh
While the cow crows all morn
We get milk from the horses
And eggs from the sheep
The butterflies go buzz
While the pup goes peep, peep
Chickens lay by the hearth
And bark at the moon
While the coyotes bleat baa
And wake the raccoon
We eat pizza for breakfast
Oatmeal is for lunch
My fave is the supper
and eggs that go crunch
If you travel the highway
Don”t come here by car
You get here by horseback
Follow the daystar
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Deep Calls To Deep
Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls;
All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me.*
Your majesty exceeds my extravagant imagination
Your infinite wisdom surpasses man’s corporate dreams.
One snap of your finger brings mountains to their knees,
While we struggle to move its boulders.
We have absence of war and name it peace,
You are clothed in light that calms even storms at sea.
Man considers a century as longevity
While you always existed and hold keys to eternity.
Pastures, creek, and hayloft were our playground.
During the summers my sister and I shared our domain.
Cousins would take turns staying a week at a time.
We fed the hogs, gathered eggs, and worked in garden
in mornings, but then we explored the farm.
My favorite was the two story barn with its huge hayloft.
We would move the bales to make hay igloos and play cowboys and Indians until we were called for lunch or supper.
A race was on to the windmill to wash our hands and face under the pump,
then hurry to sit at table where Mother always led us in prayer.
I flew to Canilla, Guatemala for a week mission trip in April.I have previously been in Ethiopia, Mexico,Italy, and Israel, and as I am not fluent in any language besides English, I need an interpreter to translate whenever I speak. Children do not need anyone to interpret. Their smiles and beckoning hand let you know if they are comfortable with you and if they want to share their food or sit with them. Smiles, smiles, smiles. They penetrate the language barrier and warm my heart like no words can. Here is a one of the many pictures of children in Guatemala.
I followed you relentlessly for I desired to possess you.
You tantalized my dreams and pervaded my thoughts.
Such a breathtaking vision, you seemingly flitted from path to path.
You were as elusive as a butterfly and I lost my direction in pursuit of you.
At dusk I wearily paused from my arduous and unfruitful journey.
My lethargy caused me to rest amidst the fragrant moonflowers.
I reflected in the solitude of the panoramic twilight sky.
Perceiving that you had paused in your flight too, I embraced you.
Running I could not capture you, but upon meditation you were mine.
Oh Wisdom, you are unexcelled in beauty and I regret I hurried so long.
Cascading over Larch Mountain with a surge of power, your majestic force chills the rocks far below.
Sunlight filters through you like a prism, creating rainbows of color in contrast to the white spray.
During the dark hours of pre-dawn, your ever present music seems to crescendo into the oblivious sleeping valley.
One winter you were silenced when you froze into a giant icicle, like a stalactite on the side of mountain, reaching toward the cave of earth.
What a wonderful time the creator must have had, surely He laughed as he made a path for you to follow.
His fingerprints remain imprinted on the cliffs, along the winding Columbia River Gorge.
It must have been a favorite playground of His.
This is a new poetic form that was presented on Robert Brewer’s blog Poetic Asides on Writers Digest. First line is one word, second line two, third line three. Simple but can be profound. Here are five of my crude attempts.
better shared never stops
makes heart glad always growing
mayhem and carnage
goodbye sizzling heat
miss you always no rain near