Category Archives: Prose & Poetry

I’m published!

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Here’s a holiday selection

From my collection

(changed slightly to accommodate Thanksgiving)
**** 

Holiday Dinner

Chicken runs round the farm yard,

Wishes he was the duck.

Duck runs round the barn yard,

Wishes he was the pig.

Pig runs round the pig sty,

Wishes he was the horse.

Horse smiles, relaxes in stall.

Thanksgiving Eve, he’ll mourn them all.

****

My collection includes Family and Friends, God Bless Our Military, Limericks, Beautiful Earth, Art, Imagination, & Miscellany, Haiku, and My Funny Bone.

To order, go to “No Boundaries” at Amazon.

 

 

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Filed under Book Cover Design, E-books & E-publishing, Personal Articles, Prose & Poetry, Publishing

On Halloween

On Halloween

Pam Wight cat

Who would ride a broomstick

As the witches do –

Straight across the pebbly stars

On a street of blue?

I should! I should!

(If mother came, too).

Who would take a wildcat,

With eyes all yellow-green

To ride upon her broomstick

Late on Halloween?

I should! I should!

(If mother sat between).

____________

A poem contained in No Boundaries, A Collection of Poetry,

by Karen R. Sanderson. Soon to be launched.

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Filed under Personal Articles, Prose & Poetry, Uncategorized

Guest Poet, Sue Lobo

11136680_749463021821443_2489833491478305154_nSue Lobo is the author of five books of her poetry & one of her childhood in the African bush, called “Lollipops of Dust,” her autobiography of a child´s view of living in colonial Africa, in the Kalahari desert, with all the magic of what the old Africa had to offer. She has also participated in ten poetry anthologies with other very talented poets & has won poetry competitions in Gibraltar & Spain. She is married to a Spaniard, with two grown sons & presently lives in Spain. Her book of poetry about death & dying called “The Last Dance” has been used to comfort the bereaved in hospices & also used at funerals. Her book of animal poetry called “Wild Whisperings” was written to generate funds for the International Save The Rhino Fund. Her latest work called “I Am Woman” is all about women & their struggles & plight in many countries of the world, but also reflecting on their joy & beauty in every age of womanhood.

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LEST WE FORGET:

In the sadness of war, of only man´s sick making,

Leaving death, destruction & our sad earth quaking,

We now sadly remember, all those whom have died,

Every man from every nation, no matter what side.

 

But let´s not forget, the feathers, fins, hooves & the paws,

Innocent friends with no choices, we sent into our wars,

The silent creatures who fought for whatever the cause,

Not understanding man´s reasoning for fighting sad wars.

 

Dolphins, pigeons, brave equines & not forgetting the dogs,

Taken to far oceans, air, hot deserts & to muddy cold bogs,

These poor creatures who died, without knowing the game,

Let us pay homage to them & say “I´m so sorry,” in shame.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©:   /|\   (PHOTOGRAPHY WITH PERMISSION GRANTED, BY THE VERY TALENTED – Lili SaatchiCemetery of staglieno and more)

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SLOW DANCE ME:

My life on earth is near on done, so please,
Slow dance me through the corridors of time,
Through mists where the satin moths waltz,
Tiptoe me through forests where Druids gather,
Where I can hear the silent melody of the moon,
The echo of wistful whisperings of woeful witches,
Take my very old hand of life´s learnt wisdom, and
Lead me through silken webs of spiders long gone,
To the waterfalls where the coloured birds sing,
To where the eagle soars & the lion roars,
Slow dance me high to clouds above, where
Pegasus flies, & dragons wink their red hot love,
Sing me songs of days gone by & tell me pretty tales,
Let me smell those intoxicating perfumes, of
Jasmine & rose, & of scents I yet don’t know,
Slow dance me to the end of a life well lived, and
Let me hear the voice of god as I take my final bow,
Slow dance me please, for my time is done.
POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©:   /|\   (PHOTOGRAPHY WITH PERMISSION GRANTED, BY THE VERY TALENTED – Lili SaatchiCemetery of staglieno and more)

 

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MATRIARCHS:

Why did I not listen to them, so wise,
those matriarchs of my folk, my clan, my tribe?
When they foresaw & warned, I just laughed & scorned
at their words, & waltzed out the door, whilst,
they told of the reasons, the wherefores & the whys.

I hear their voices in the wind & the rain,
I see their faces in sun, stars & moon,
I now live their words of warning & scorn,
It´s too late now, but it´s a lesson well learned,
If only we could all start over again.

Their foreboding came true, every wise word,
they´ve long gone away, to other realms far afield,
Their words tormenting my every wrong deed,
too late now, & so sorry am I, that
I walked out the door leaving words unheard.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©:   /|\   (PHOTOGRAPHY WITH PERMISSION GRANTED, BY THE VERY TALENTED – Lili SaatchiCemetery of staglieno and more)

 

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SUMMER CHILD:

Latticed shadows echo upon sun dappled cheek,

Tiny black minnows nibble toes down by the creek,

Wending fluffed clouds are angels merely disguised,

Hankied white gulls pinned upon lapels of blue skies,

Rosy peached lips dripping juicy with childhood smiles,

Nut-skinned brown knees clambering over mossy stiles,

Laughter gaily heard through cool green forest glades,

As you go tripping through lilacs my pretty little maid,

Gritty little bare feet, dirty-earthy & so muddily free,

The wild beasts your friends & your mentors the trees,

Your tight little fists clutching joy & fields full of flowers,

Paddling in splashing brooks for many summer hours,

Breeze brushed hair as tussled as the errant soft fern,

And peeping through the brambles, Puck, Pan & Herne,

Ladybirds, dragonflies, butterflies & soft velveteen bees,

Join in your games of tickle, chase & the laughing tease,

Lemon scented lollipop melting on small eager tongue,

Herb perfumed fingers spin stones where bees once sung,

Skipping through red berry juice & plunging into streams,

Your joyful childish laughter echoes in summer day screams.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO © /|\
Photo for the poem “Summer Child” (Photography shared from Xavier Lobo © – my son)

 

BOOKS:

Africa My Africa – poetry – (Now out of print)

Wild Whisperings – poetry – CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

The Last Dance – poetry – CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

I Am Woman – poetry – CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

Lollipops Of Dust – Autobiography – (Available from Woodfieldpublishing.co.uk & Amazon)

ANTHOLOGIES:

Available from CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

Love, A Four Letter Word, Divided Lines, Poetic Melodies, and Women of the World

Poets With Voices Strong – Autumn Poetry – published by Brian Wrixton & available from Blurb):

Awaken To A Dream –The International Library Of Poetry (out of print)

The Golden Seed – Slippery Jack Press, UK

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Filed under Guest Writers & Bloggers, Prose & Poetry, Uncategorized

Rollercoaster

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Topsy-turvy

Stomach rumbles, a little erp

Should have waited on the buttery popcorn.

 

Topsy-turvy

Mouth opens, roiling burp

Wish I’d passed up that Tex-Mex chili dog, y’all.

 

Topsy-turvy

My clenching stomach is swilling greasy

Shoulda said no gracias on the empanadas.

 

Topsy-turvy

Makes me green and sickly queasy

Nein on the brats and kraut would have been a good idea.

 

Topsy-turvy

Stop this thing mechanized lightning bolt

Why didn’t I say paseo on the porchetta panini?

 

Topsy-turvy

Screeching wheels jars me to a halt

I couldn’t think of kekkou desu, no thank you, before I ate the sushi.

 

Topsy-turvy

Let me off, find a bucket

The international buffet is making a come-back.

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Winter Haiku

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Icicle fingers

Icy lace accents the eaves

Let’s curl under the blanket.

***

Skiing on white caps

White out blinds the shushing eye

Casted leg propped up.

***

Minus fifty chills

Frostbitten nose and fingers

Another toddy?

***

Care to add one of your own? 

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Filed under Prose & Poetry, Uncategorized

Puddles…a short poem

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Puddles

by Karen R. Sanderson

 

The puddle prompts a memory

of a simmering summer day

After the rain

A perfect rainbow arced across the sky

A little boy skipped, hopped, and jumped in

He scooped up the mud and smeared it

on scrawny arms and knobby knees

His smile shined through

His giggles, too

The puddle reflects my face

and sees my memory

I jump in with both feet

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On Halloween

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I wrote this in grade school…

On Halloween

Who would ride a broomstick

As the witches do –

Straight across the pebbly stars

On a street of blue?

I should! I should!

(if mother came, too)

Who would take a wildcat,

With eyes all yellow-green

To ride upon his broomstick

Late on Halloween?

I should! I should!

(if mother sat between)

11 Comments

Filed under Horror, Kid Stuff & Children's Books, Prose & Poetry