Poems From the Porch 10
Ten Weeks and Still Going Strong
Welcome to the tenth anthology of Poems from the Porch. Who would have thought this would even become a series, let alone still be going strong after ten weeks. The requests are still coming in so there is no immediate end in sight, which is a good thing. If I wasn't writing these poems for other people I'd really miss it. I find it both a challenge and a fun thing to do. it is also my way of giving something back to my readers.
I apologise for publishing this edition a little later than usual, but my time spent sitting on the porch has been restricted due to a bad back. I twisted it getting groceries out of the car, as simple as that, so whether it is a pulled muscle, inflamed disc, or just old age and rheumatism I'm not sure. It has, however, restricted how long I can sit in one spot without changing chairs or going for a walk. Anyway, better late than never and so let's get on with it. I hope you enjoy these poems.
When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.
— John F KennedyPeggy Woods
"Here is another idea: The importance of being a volunteer. Not only does it help the cause, but it benefits the person doing the volunteer work as well. I know this from first-hand experience."
Your wish is my command Peggy. Volunteering is such a worthy and much-needed pursuit. I hope this poem does our volunteers justice.
The Importance of Volunteering
Volunteers donate their time
To help the common good.
They never seek financial gain,
Though accept a “Thanks,” they would.
They’re selfless, kind, and caring
Towards anyone in need.
Not looking for rewards or praise,
They’re not inspired by greed.
Volunteers are needed
In almost every field.
Funding often falls far short,
And Governments don’t yield.
Donate things you do not need,
We often have excess,
Just keeping up appearances
And trying to impress.
Volunteers are valuable,
Most love to fill a need,
Providing meals, or fighting fires,
Or donating books to read.
Just a kindly word or chat
May be all the lonely need
To lift their spirits and their mood,
It’s a simple but good deed.
So, please stand up and volunteer,
We all have time to spare.
To waste it all on mundane tasks
Just really isn’t fair.
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
— Leonardo da VinciPamela Oglesby
"I would like a poem about my 5 year old granddaughter, who is a precocious child with big brown eyes. Thank you John."
Because Pamela's request was specifically for her granddaughter, I asked her to email me more details so I could build a more suitable poem about her.
Thank you for giving me the extra information Pamela. I hope you (and Eleanor) like this poem.
Eleanordocious
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious,
Even though the sound of it
is something quite atrocious.
If you say it loud enough
you’ll always sound precocious.
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious.
.
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious,
You’re just five with big brown eyes
and look just like a princess.
You’re cute, smart, and dramatic
and love your fancy dresses.
.Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious,
You love colored pancakes,
They’re simply delicious,
But you also like sausage,
And it’s not nutritious.
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious.
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious,
The bright color purple
Is one of your passions,
and your Barbie doll
wears the latest of fashion.
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordociouss
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious,
But, you live so far away
in sweet Magnolia, Texas
We miss you Eleanor very much,
And hope you, too, miss us?
.Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious,
Even though the sound of it
Is something quite atrocious.
If you say it loud enough
You’ll always sound precocious.
Magnoliatexasletsbeaprincess-
callmeEleanordocious.
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
— PlatoElijah A Alexander Jr
"I have a rhyming I will call "ABBABBCBBCBBABBABBCBBC" with the "BBs" shorter lines than the As and Cs. So take your time and see what you can do with that for me."
I replied,"You certainly like to challenge me...with that rhyme scheme I need a lot of common rhyming words for all those “B”s."
Elijah responded, "John, I must have did it incorrectly. The "BB" suggests only those 2 rhymed as I does going back and forth from AA to CC mean only that particular pair are required to rhyme. I'm new to that concept, had never seen it until you used it to explain what I had asked before. By the way, John, it doesn't have to end with an A or C, it can end with BB. "
I must admit, I still don't really know what you wanted Elijah, but I interpreted it as best I could for the following poem. thanks for the request.
A Boy Named Troy
Let me tell you all a story
about a boy
named Troy.
To his parents, he was a worry,
always late
for every date.
No matter where they were going
he made them wait.
Troy didn't care
who his tardiness inconvenienced.
It's not fair,
Nothing to wear!
One day Troy's parents were amazed,
he was ready on time.
He asked, "Is it a crime?'
They just looked at him and smiled,
"Troy's got a girly,
now he's always early."
It's funny what love can do.
it changed Troy, it can change me and you.
Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
— G.K. ChestertonEric Dierker
"You have read some of my Boy Teacher series - how about your perspective on that with your sons and grandsons"
Yes, Eric, I have read your Boy Teacher and Father Student articles and love the series. The least I can do is meet your request and write a poem pon the subject.
The Boy Teacher and the Father Student
From the moment they can talk
Our children have a yearning,
And our job as their parents
Is to facilitate their learning.
We satisfy their how’s and why’s
With answers that suffice,
But as they grow we notice
Questions becoming more precise.
“Dad can you please tell me
Who built China’s Great Wall?’
The correct answer evades me,
But my son is still quite small.
“Oh, the great Emperor Nasi Goreng
Of the Chin Dynasty, no doubt.
He had to build a massive wall
To keep the rabbits out.”
Soon we have to research
And study all we can,
To provide more valid answers
That our growing child demands.
“Dad can you please tell me
How a combustion engine works?
How far is it from Earth to Mars?
And, who was Captain Kirk?”
Soon, your child’s enquiring mind
Has outgrown even yours,
Their grasp of new technology
Causes older brains to pause.
“Son, please help me with this phone,
How to set it up and all,
So I can check the Internet,
And maybe make a call.”
Now my children teach me
Many things I never learned.
The world is changing all the time.
Oh, how the tables turned.
I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty.
— Edgar Allan PoeComing Up...
Thank you for reading another collection of Poems From the Porch. Coming up next week are poems requested by: Pamela Oglesby, Bill Holland, Lori Colbo, and Nithya Venkat. Until then, have a great week and good luck with your own writing endeavours.
