Cinnamon's July

Nobility in Motherhood

There is a queen who wears a crown that shines;

Its jewels are sparkles in her children's eyes.

Her shoes were made to walk a thousand roads

To see her sons and daughters safely home.

Her robes were woven each day thread on thread

With acts of love and service as she lead.

Her fingers glitter with a diamond spray

Made from the glint of tears she's wiped away.

Her throat bears a cascade of priceless worth

Made of the times she heard her children's mirth.

Her left hand holds a book of truths she's lived

And taught and hopes her children honor give.           

Her right hand wields a sword to fight the dark

Lest demons on her loved ones make a mark.

Her countenance shines with a strength within

Born of the knowledge that with Christ she'll win.

At her side there is a king who is the One.       

He is her love, hero and paladin.

To be this woman's where my heart is bent,

To wear those robes, her gems, my ornament.

July's topic, (Dianne)

Nobility in motherhood,
Joy in womanhood

From the Relief Society theme.

Ode to the Sun

The sun shines so majestically

So glorious and bright

It's a testament to god

A creation to delight

On a cold winter day 

My sunny window beckons

My chair and a good book

Impossible to improve on...

Then springtime comes 

And I can hardly describe the glee

The sun feels like magic

When it thaws the winter freeze

But then why oh why 

Do we have to endure the stare 

from the summers unending 

Terrible and torturous glare

But every October 

The leaves turn to yellow

And we thank the sun

That its heat finally mellowed 

One season of the year

That's all that we ask

To calm that heat that comes

With summers hot blast

By Bonnie Walker

I'm following Cinnamon's Majestic Creation :)

Camping

Prepare

Clean and pack and work and sweat

Drive and shop but not there yet

Ascend too quickly at end of the day

Steep narrow switchbacks and frightening way

Arrive

The pines so amazingly thick and so high

Towers of evergreens tickling the sky

The scent is a rapture of familiar joy.

A timeless memory when you were a boy

Camp

The Flies and mosquitoes, the  smoke and  the dirt

Black dirty smudges on each childs shirt

Outhouses distant and gross and so smelly

Junkfood and fried food to mess up your belly

Adventures

The ATVs creaking on hazardous turns

The dust in your nose and your eyes always burns

The drop-offs petrify all of your senses

Your body is beatup and bruised no pretenses

Trailer

You sweep up each morning and cannot believe

How much dirt and wrappers that little ones leave

The showers too narrow, the beds in the corner

Reading by flashlight to the buzz of the hornet

Meals

You always examine your drink for a bee

And blow the ashes from your eggs jubilee

Smashed PBJs and crumbly chips

Each dusty licorice strip growing your hips

Games

Skip Bo, phase 10, speed game of dice

Yatzee, and pinochle, Scum more than twice

Hula Hoop contests and games in the night

Scary tales told by the dim firelight

Memories

Sticky burnt Marshmellows, dogs on a stick

Fishing at daylight, with worms that you’ve digged

Napping at noon in your favorite camp chair

Hanging with loved ones you hold so dear

Planning

Camping is costy and takes so much effort

Next year perhaps we will skip this adventure

But don’t ask the kids when its all said and done

They’ll want to go camping, its too darn much fun.

Cinnamon's June Poem

So, an ode is supposed to be in praise of something. I was totally planning on writing something profound and majestic. That's not exactly how it turned out...

A BREAK-UP ODE TO A FERAL TOMCAT

You showed up one day looking hungry

And hot and thirsty to boot. 

I gave you some water,

You became a squatter,

And all 'cause I thought you were cute. 

You rub up against my ankles,

Like you have some claim on my heart. 

I may overrate you

And try not to hate you

But only when we are apart. 

When I'm in the garden you stalk me.

You pounce on me under the trees

I try to act cool

But you're playing the fool

And your dander is making me sneeze.

You fight every night for my glory.

Machismo echoes through the air.

Would you still do it                           

And put yourself throughout it            

If you knew that I really don't care?

Somehow you've mistaken my kindness

For affection and fidelity.

So it's time that you know,

When we first said hello,

I thought that you were a she.

I trip over you when I go out.

Your hair's my new accessory.

How do I tell you, 

I wish I could sell you

When I know that there's no one but me?

I'm leaving you, cat.  It's over.

I won't bother saying goodbye.

Even if I said it, 

I don't think you'd get it,

And you might expect me to cry. 

So go find another softie.

There are many, I hear, in Quebec.

No regrets and no tears,

Your yowl hurts my ears.

Just don't be here when I get back. 

Topic for June, 2013

Another Summer, another opportunity to use those long days to be creative.
June's topic:  An Ode to something in nature.

On Electronics
   By Dianne

“Dance, Aga, dance!”

The tunes from the TV ad

Awaken her little spirit,

As I hang Grandpa’s shirts

And ‘get down’ for Hillary

“I pay iPad?” her request

For the umpteenth time today.

Tiny fingers, barely an inch and a half long

Flit across the screen

Competently opening and closing

Programs until she finds her choice

and she sings “Twinkle, twinkle”

in her exquisite baby voice

along with her iPad.

Another ad comes on TV and she

Motions to the remote, expecting

Me to fast forward to her program.

She totters into the kitchen and

Opens the freezer and drags

Out the bag of chicken nuggets,

Jabbering and pointing to the microwave.

Two and a half minutes later

she is dipping her favorite lunch

In ketchup while she watches

Dora solve problems on TV.