Tag Archives: ode

Writing 201 Day 5 Map, Ode, and Metaphor

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Ode to a Journey to Wyoming

One day I awoke to prepare once again

To go on journey to visit my friend.

I have traveled this same route several years ago

But the adventure of going on a trip never grows old.

 twice I have endeavored on this solo journey of

Traveling from Minnesota to the land of Wyoming.

The familiar towns and landmarks along the way

Are dear old companions who greet me and wave

While silently proclaiming, “Yes we are still here;

So glad to see you travel our way this year.”

I passed through several small towns and by farmsteads too

And oh my, Lake Heron is a splendid sea of blue.

I drove by several state parks along the way

And note, “I must visit there on another day.”

The morning was full of bright, illuminating sunshine

As I drove along the interstate crossing the first state line.

Onward I drove with my intent eyes peering into the horizon

As I joyfully anticipated revisiting my high school friend.

And lo, how we both know that we don’t visit enough

As times can be hard and cost of travel just too much.

With the consistent rain through the summer months,

The ground has remained emerald green; deep and lush.

For usually, the further I journeyed westward from home,

The atmosphere became more and more arid while I drove.

But on this trek the land remained moist and green much longer

And I chose to enjoy this and not ponder and wonder.

So forward I drove and gladly journeyed

Into the horizon; a vast green and blue sea.

Near the end of the day my traveling was done

As I paused beneath the vaulted ceiling of a glowing sun.

While it slid down settling in the distant west,

I knew it was time for a long night rest.

I opted to stay at on a hilltop of green sloped wonder

In a motel overlooking the winding Missouri River.

For the wide flowing blue stream curved this way and that

With an iron scalloped bridge uniting one land mass to the next.

Next morning arrived and soon I was on the road

Anticipating new places to see and sights to behold.

“I can’t help it,” I chided myself with a frown,

“I must visit once again that old ghost town.”

Soon I found the right off-ramp and pulled in

And found myself wandering the old streets again.

I strolled past the old schoolhouse and the church too

Wondering what life was like back in say…1882.

I drove on nearing the Wyoming border

And noticed the rugged mountains coming closer.

After another long day’s drive,

To my friend’s house, I finally arrived.

I was there for a week, treasuring each day;

And we embarked on a few adventures along the way.

Such a sweet time to spend with a dear friend,

That my heart ached with sadness at the week’s end.

Turning around I started the long journey home

Thankful for friendship which nourished my soul.

So now, ode to a Journey I took to Wyoming,

I have a new treasure of memories inside of me.

Poetry 201 Assignment 8: Drawer, Ode and Apostrophe

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I am running a bit late but here is my assignment 8. Today I needed to write about a drawer in my house as if it were speaking to me. I needed to include apostrophes which, as I understand, are expressions and exclamations which can allude to a range of emotions. So after much thought I gave it a try and here is my latest poetic creation from the heart of my memories and my silly imagination. I hope you enjoy reading this and perhaps you will to go find your very own memory drawer.

Ode to a Drawer of Memories

As I pondered what to write about and which drawer should I peek in and see,

My eyes became glued to a certain small dresser that seemed to speak and beckon me:

“I am the most interesting drawer you’ll find for deep inside I keep many memories.

And they are not just your memories as you will soon see

That you will discover and find hiding inside of me.

Come, be brave and take a look now; Come and you shall see.”

So I wandered over while knocking over a pile of books

And yes I dared to even chance to indulge a hesitant look.

The first find was my baby book kept inside of a fading pink box

And inside it were cards, photos and many notes written by mom.

“Look on this page! You were born at 6:55 pm

And your mother thought you were such a precious gem.

Here it says you only weighed four pounds;

You may have been little but you sure could make a loud sound.”

You were baptized in February The following year

And both your grandmothers thought you were such a dear.

Oh look here, your mother thought you looked like your dad.

Hey! Perhaps instead of lass, you should have been a lad?

You lived in a town called Friendship at the age of two

And soon you had a sister to always love you.

Of course that was followed by a few more;

A brother, another sister and together that made four.”

Laying down the baby book I dug further to explore

Wondering what else was hiding in my memory drawer.

I found a red Webster’s New World Dictionary copyrighted in 1990,

“You don’t even remember having that; I can tell, I can see.”

I then found several colorful art prints;

One still kept in a frame but the other wasn’t.

One picture of a girl pushing her sister in an old buggy

And the other of two girls sitting on a bench like young ladies.

“You remember that day you found these treasured items

In that store downtown; in the Arts and Crafts Emporium.

Ah! I see the glint in your eye, you enjoyed visiting that place.

It is a shame another business took that space.”

Going deeper into the drawer, I found an old pair of glasses tinted in light rose,

“I can see in your eyes that you remember wearing those

As well as the painful headache you had one night

Because the prescription in them was not right.”

Going still further I discovered crayon drawings and sheets of construction paper,

“Pink, white, or purple, which was your favorite color?

Do you remember how you tried to color so fine

And stay so meticulously inside the lines?”

Next was a cassette tape of children’s hymns,

“You tried so hard to sing but often were out of tune.

Remember coaxing the children to sing, God is so Good;

A favorite melody from your own childhood?

And you still have your old boom box that you bought with pride

Which is in your kitchen now sitting up high.

Speaking of music, remember how your grandmother was pleased

To see you play her piano but not always striking the right keys?

She was as delighted as she could be

To hear you strum, Consider the Lilies.

Lastly I found some pens and other odds and ends,

“When did all this cluttering begin? And when will it end?”

So tired now, I quietly closed my overwhelming memory drawer,

“Please come back for I am not done! I have so much more.”

What a late night of mixed and blessed memories was in store

All due to this assigned poem and my memory drawer.