Grown Beyond Me

You once said
I opened your eyes
your heart
your mind
Beyond what you had known.

Now I stand here
empty
wondering how it came to this

You opened your eyes
wide to whatever came your way
Seeing new
broader horizons

You opened your eyes
to those you'd shut out
only to realize they are
friends not foes

You opened your eyes
to realize
a catalyst is one
that starts things happening
Not one that tags along.

IT'S ALL TOO MUCH

Tipping the scales
not an ambition for sure,
losing your mind
as you pack on the pounds.
Wishing the comment about
a "poet of your stature"
didn't give you the desire
to haul off and hit something.
Your girth expands
with the size of your hands,
and the decision is clear.
I'm giving Weight Watchers
another year.

Growing Backwards


This afternoon at 2:00,
I take my Aunt Aletha
to see Doctor Johnston.
Her children live
many miles from here,
in another province,
and Aletha’s car
sits unused outside Perrin’s
Marina Villa,
the senior’s village,
where she lives
in a small room.
Soon after she moved there,
dehydrated, she became confused,
demented, they called it,
and her children worried
about the car keys she carries
in her carefully guarded purse.
They can’t be here
to drive her to the doctor,
who will decide
if she can keep them,
and so I will go,
pretend I don’t know.
She is well now,
and her mind is sharp,
and she will figure out
how much I know.
I’ve been here before,
years ago with my mother,
and I already mourn
what we both will lose,
this afternoon at Doctor J’s.

.

A GROWING PROBLEM


Building bridges, housebreaking fleas?
No problem. Try forfeiting a double chin.
Fat grows swiftly and like weeds
Suffocate the plans of spring blooming.
Hardly noticeable, pounds lead
dieters down sorry paths, consuming
will power, destroying dreams.

Who can say if piling up flesh
sparks some diabolical yearning,
becoming colossal, mesh
with gargantuan beings heartburning
through middle age, dying too soon.
Better to choose moderation, shun
gluttony. Shed inches. Why ruin
whatever good may come?

#

“Attitude Adjustment”



Happy, go lucky, laughter, glee
Life can be retort, diminished, in deed.
Competiveness, jealousy, power, greed,
eliminate laughter, we’re no longer free.

Negative, fighter, never for me,
Harmony, serenity, a spiritual plea.
Judgement, anger, centered on thee?
Kindness, courtesy, forever shall be.

ninacarole

Progress

One needn’t look left,
and neither need one look right.
Peace is straight ahead.

Trying to play catchup
On November P.A.D.,
Not an easy task
When the prompts just grow on me!

Loving your theme, Daniel. :)

thanks for noticing...as for catchup, please to remind yourself...it's a marathon, not a sprint

GROWTH

When I was young
I struggled, stretched and stewed.
Desired to grow taller.
Now that I’m older,
much older,
my taller laid down to horizontal
and grows without any effort at all.

Aging Gracefully

She’s become a well mannered animal.
From an unpredictable pup. Once snappy.
My reluctant old wolf, muzzle whiting
retires on her daybed, curled in reserve.
Shrinking tightly with lady like demure.
nosetip to tailtip a seamless ring of cur.

Evolution

Gazing at you
I realize
I love you more
everytime I see you

You look so relieved
Like a crisp autumn breeze
The exhaustion leaves your face
for a moment when you look at me

Time is so precious
So short lived
Until we meet again
Our conversations linger
as well as our kisses

We speak of the future
you for me
and me for you
our home, the pond, the lab.
It all seems so natural

I'm more in love with you
than yesterday
And look forward to tomorrow
growing, evolving

Growing and Going

Crossword puzzles and
word jumbles no longer
fit the bill. Ann’s head
was as scrambled as the
words and she found her
concentration flying out
the door, like a dog
seeking escape into
the forbidden street.

Contentment replaced with
nervousness made Ann
critical,
negative,
unhappy.
Was she growing away
from her husband,
her family,
into a new phase
of her life?

Disgust and curiosity
drove her interests
out the door,
so she put the dog
in the backyard and
went exploring
in her new convertible,
unsure of where
she was going.

laurie k.

Living Long Enough

I grew a
tree from a seed
I found on
the ground. That small
pod became
a mighty oak
I lived long enough to know

(poetic form: Whitney)

Daniel, I didn't read your post before writing my poem but think i'm feeling a similar vibe :)

Ouch!

I grew dust bunnies
which hid under the couch
until I finally vacuumed them up
before they could yell, “Ouch!”

Warrior II

Do I suffer from a survivor’s guilt? I wonder as my mind wanders. I lower my arms so that one is pointing forward, the other pointing back into Warrior II. Tired. Last night I was contemplating placing phone calls or booking trips to family members I haven’t seen or talked with over extended periods of time. It is hard to keep looking straight ahead past my fingers because my torso also wants to come back around to a front facing position. And then the guilt, even here, as I try to remember to be in the breath. And then the question of the guilt. Why should I always have to be the one to call? Why do I have to be the one to visit? At what point is there a two way street? Or do I eternally go one way, one way, one way. At least I’m past tears. I’m ready to start the warrior flow on my other leg just for something new to do but I’m not trembling, I can wait for the instructor, this time, for the call to switch legs. I can wait.

Daniel - that is really wonderful. It just feels so right.

Marie Elena - prompts DEFINITELY grow on you. And bloom.

Growing Apart Fib

They
grew
apart
because he
refused to grow up.
But after he was gone, she found
she somehow missed his silly antics. She grew lonely.

THIS BOY

Cut and scraped elbows and knees,
chipped teeth, messy hair,
bike riding, kite gliding,
dog chasing, kick the can playing,
neighbor girl pining, baseball playing,
always dreaming, sometimes schemeing,
dad helping, momma's boy learning a lot
from life. Straight "A"'s, always studying,
Playing the fool and the piano,
writing love songs at thirteen,
thinking, if my shyness doesn't kill me,
this fear of girls will. Learning
passion, compassion, support and love.
Did he say love? Yeah, twice now.
Finding that everyone has a purpose,
and people come into your life
for a reason, hopefully, a lifetime.


I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

Putting away childish things
without losing my inner child.
A sense of humor and proportion
that has grown with me, serves to
ground me in the best possible way.
It IS better to have loved and lost,
but it is MUCH better to love and
keep it. Long after the dust settles,
you find your heart still holding fort
for a "troop" that will never return,
but you hold it all the same.
There's a comfort in knowing that
you're more like your Dad
then you thought you'd ever be,
and enough like your Mom to know
where the road leads, and how to get there
with your reputation and loyalties intact.

Growing

Taking this trip as a test run
The trial of twelve people
in a tin can traveling the
rectangle of Colorado. Turning
a phrase. Practicing timing.
Tickling funny bones wherever we go.
Trading twelve hour nursing days
for twenty-four/ seven of
passing out humor and laughter
instead of tablets and pills.
Giving. Taking. Growing.

Malignant Cells

Like a dark stealth jet
You slipped under my radar
And grew to a mass.

AT THE BRICK WORKS, 1867

[She could only grow at night and on Sundays. - Elihu Burritt]

Thirteen years old, six days a week
she drudges red-raw clay
to be fired in the kiln. For wages,
two shillings and a crust of bread consumed
without chewing – no, she clutches it
with thin fingers, savoring every crumb,
imagining molasses, imagining her mistress
tearing into lark a-la-limousine.

Twelve hours a day
bowed under bricks, how could a child
grow? Only nights and Sundays,
a seedling stretching out roots and buds
as she lets her mind loose in dreams
of pirate ships under sail,
bound for free islands in clear blue
seas, unimaginable futures.

I Watch

I watch:
As the children fight,
And pray they learn,
That love conquers all.
I watch:
As the children cry,
And pray they learn,
That crying is a part of growing.
I watch:
As the children sleep,
And pray they may learn
That understanding is each other's quests.
I watch:
As the children grow
And pray they learn,
That all they will ever need is each other.
I watch:
As they are turning into young men
And pray they have learned
That watching young women is always to be with respect.
I watch:
As they watch
Another child is to be born.

Now I watch:
Only to see
It is the next cycle emerging
As they are now watching me.

A growing sense of
Less poetic snobbery.
A breath of fresh air


Caught up posting for each day. Perhaps some are lame, but that's what December's for. :) Can't wait to get another chance to read all the offerings of this talented group.

Growth

Reflections on a mirrored plane
play light and shadow games

reveal the crystalled slumber
of the lowly worm,

her dreams drawn gently
in chrysalis restraint

her metaphor
a whispered hope for freedom

for breath and gossamer
reflected on a mirrored plane.



Carol A. Stephen
November 5, 2009
PAD Challenge

Ouch. Just realized my "poetic snobbery" could be taken offensively. Please know I'm not referring to this PA community ... just the poetic world in general. :) The "air" here is just fine and dandy.

It's OK Marie. Breathe, Breathe!

For Elena

A miracle of sorts;
not water into wine,
or walking on the briny sea,
but still a miracle I think;
that a little girl
can die,
and yet
the love she felt
still grows.

Written in response to November PAD and inspired by the true story of Elena Desserich from Wyoming who was diagnosed with terminal cancer aged 5 and left notes of love for her family to find after her death.
Her family have published "The Notes Left Behind" and all proceeds are going to the Cure Starts Now Cancer Foundation, one of the only charities dedicated to finding a unified cure for all forms of cancer.

Growing Away from You

The time is coming
soon, very soon, too soon
when you will be leaving us.

It's been difficult
watching you age and falter
and it all happened so quickly.

Just a few weeks ago
you were your old self
strong, steady gait
happy, playful, fully functioning
all systems go.

How quickly a few simple tests
and one devastating phone call
can change the course of a family's life.

Today we sat together
you and I
your head in my lap.
As I stroked it gently
I marveled once again
at the silky blackness
punctuated here and there
with perfectly placed bursts of tan.

I closed my eyes
trying to memorize
the sweet weight of your head on my knee
willing my hand to absorb
the smooth silkiness I will miss so much.

It is only one small part
of the reality of you
you who will leave a gaping hole
in the heart of our family
when the place you have inhabited
for so many blessed years
learns the bitter truth we've had to learn.

All of us must face the time to come
the time of growing away from you.

(Dedicated to our Molly)

Marie Elena

Your positive comments were like a rose growing in a quiet garden . . . the new opening is eveident. Thanks for yesterday's seed for growth.

Why didn’t you come to the reunion?
The one-time speech geeks and theater freaks
caught me up in catch-up conversations.
The ex-jocks boorishly annexed our seats.
Our old student leaders “pumped up the fun”

(flexed their remnant control and snubbed the likes
of me). And all the while, I looked for you,
tried to see through married names and creases
to find first love’s face, one I know I’d know
in its every temporal inflection.

But you were one of those who didn’t show.
Are you dead? Or distant? Weren’t you one fish
who fared fairly well in youth’s cruel oceans?
Was supposing so my own confusion
born of a teen adoration so piqued?

In every aspect, sad repetition—
what did I expect for our reunion?


DA

Today's poem is about growing old. If you noticed I have a theme going on.

Changing Seasons

Changing seasons
going in and out of time...
winter, spring sublime.

twisting and turning of mind...
summer, fall unwind.

winter, spring
summer, fall...
no longer beckon or call.

fall, summer
spring, winter
my seasons splinter...
into tiny shards.

Entropy


and so we grow along our separate branches
we who imagined a together life
linked forever in our youthful fancy
holding hands through sorrow and delight

did some gardener intrude, or was it
sudden lightning that’s to blame—who knows
what caused the sudden deviation
that sent us slowly on our way alone

the summer leaves conceal, but in the fall
the truth is painful even though we try
to reach at least a parallel before
like every growing thing
we die

"Come to the desert and bring your cat."

He was insistent.

"I have a house that needs
Your touch.
There is a yard,
With grass, some trees,
And roses in all colors.
You will love the roses.
They remind me of you."

"Come to the desert and bring your cat."

"Boy Kitty will be out of the cold,
And snow.
He can warm up,
Chasing lizards,
And road runners,
When the bunnies aren't around."

"I will have
To let go.
Of a place where I have lived,
Thirty years and where,
My children grew up,
And my house was my own."

"Come to the desert and bring your cat.
There is love here, I can promise you that."

Boy Kitty, or Oy Kitty,
On some days,
Agreed with me,
Time for a change.

All was as promised.
The yard was beautiful and full.
A large pink rose bush,
Blossomed in the corner,
Which was symbolic of how much,
Love was there.

One rose bush had never bloomed.
Not once, he said.
Yet, it did not want to go.
It seemed a statment all its own.

Years later,
After we accepted the love,
Lizards and roses,
A new creation was done of backyard bliss,
With a pool, hot tub and a pond with fish.
Yet Boy Kitty grew cranky and restless.

Out of now where, I see a large white cat,
On a nearby walk,
Then on a closer fence,
Finally on our wall.

Chills run up my spine,
I check for my cat,
Each time I see this strange feeling feline.
It is almost as if I know,
He is coming for my pet.

On one day, five things happened,
Changing Boy Kitty's routine.
As he walked away the night my children came,
I somehow knew it was his last meow.

Three months later,
Still no cat in sight,
We bury his mat and sprinkle,
Kitty litter in the hole in the ground.
Dug in between the pink rose bush,
And the rose that has never blossomed.

Once again, I must let go.
This time I want to do it right.
I surrender all my love,
Through gratitude,
That I came to the desert,
And brought my cat.

I am so deeply grateful,
That this cat,
Had come with me.

He reminded me of the past,
When I loved my life,
With my then small children,
Surrounded by good friends and family.

Yet, I know I came here to grow up,
Through love, changes and a new beginning.
After my children were standing on their own.
This is my moment of growth,
To really know that letting go,
Is a true act of Love.

A beautiful desert rock,
Marks the place where,
Boy Kitty's belongings belong.

And beside that place,
A huge, tall single red rose,
Is now opening so wide,
A healthy reminder that letting go is Love.

This single flower has never been here before.
As if it was waiting to say,
"Yes, it was good you came to the desert,
And it was good you brought your cat."

THE INNER LIGHT

A consciousness, an id,
a modicum of wisdom,
karma done right.

The development of
one's inner self
is a life-long pursuit.

A person's purpose,
is to provide oneself
to be reborn. And

with this drive to
constantly change,
we awaken to a new

aura of worth and
value, expressed in
words of a thoughtful

nature; a loving nature.
We grow in the
vastness of thought,

the vision of achievement,
a bigness of heart,
a touch of compassion,

the depth of friendship
and the acceptance that
in accomplishing this

expansion of self,
we are taking small steps
in this walk of life.

And the journey continues...

Theresa, my heart and prayers go out to you and your family at this time. The dignity you accept and provide is monumental. The memorization
of such trivial things week earlier, take on an honored position in your heart and mind. Know that your distant friends (distant in miles, not in compassion) are here for you and stand silently by offering, strength, hope, prayers, thoughts and love for you and your family. God bless you all.

For Marie Elena . . . the word was "evident". The comment was meant sincerely but the spelling was obviously overlooked. :)

Flying high in dreams
Soaring up into unknown skies
The parrot bobs up and down
Stretching pinfeathers striving to grow flight

Soaring up into unknown skies
Molting the clipped wings
To fly through winds and storms and dreams
Stretching pinfeathers striving to grow flight

Molting the clipped wings
Watching the bars realign dreams to reality
Stretching pinfeathers striving to grow flight
Shorn clipped wings grown down to size

Watching the bars realign dreams to reality
Soaring up into unknown skies
Shorn clipped wings grown down to size
The parrot bobs up and down

GROWTH

like progress
has
its
positives
and
negatives
if you look at it from a different angle
maybe
you could see that
each aspect of growth involves
entering something new
like a PAD challenge--
thus far growing
a quintet of poems
more or less
from me and from you.

Patricia

They will always be your babies
You held them inside your womb for forty excrutiating week
You wondered who they would look like, talk like, be like
The reality is beyond you imagination
These creatures steal your heart the first time that you hear their heartbeat
Rapid and strong inside your womb
And you think
I made that.
Through the aches and pains of skin stretching
Bones shifting and backs aching
the pain of an alien poking you in the liver
You wait
For the creature to arrive
In pain or joyfully under anesthesia they enter the world all bloodied from battle and are plopped down warm and slippery looking like they are covered with cottage cheese
And they open their mouth to scream and you are in love.
The years pass in a blur
From kindergarten to drivers training
And you wonder what happen to my baby
Then you smile and remember
They will always be your babies
Even when they have babies of their own
And only then will they understand.

Looking back
Gazing forward

Feeling free
Knowing pain

Would I go back
De-growth?

Laughing
Running

I’d jump into the time tunnel
Breaking the rules
Change the past
Changing the future

Growing Knowledge

With breakfast finished and a second cup of coffee poured,
I walk into the darkened den with a mixture of fear and trepidation.
A light switch is flipped, the computer turned on,
and a textbook pulled gingerly from the bookcase.

The book sits unopened for several moments.
I scan the title for the umpteenth time
and my mind begins its daily ritual.

What am I doing?
I graduated high school thirty-seven years ago.
My brain is old. My memory is shot.
Why am I putting myself through this?

I continue to stare at the textbook.
Within its pages are things I already know,
things I thought I knew,
and many more things I’ve never even heard of.

Should I run back to the kitchen?
Should I log onto one of my favorite computer games?
Or do I face the fear of failure that seems to come naturally
with this path I’ve chosen to take?

I choose to remain at my desk.
The website for my class appears on the screen,
my fingers taking the steps my brain is avoiding.

I open the book to the chapter for this week’s lesson.
As the words are read,
the principles, facts and ideas slowly seep into my brain,
and from there burn into my soul, becoming a part of me.

At the end of the day,
I will be excited about everything I learned today
and look forward to the new places this book will take me tomorrow.

And tomorrow?
The process will repeat itself.
But by the time the coursework is completed
and the tests and exams are behind me,
I will know one thing for certain.
This growing knowledge is a good thing.

Murder, a Muse

I once was thought and deed,
a careless word, a judgement made
too harsh!
and then I grew
a fallen branch -- a broken skull
makes marks upon a blameless man
who fled into the dark
with sudden thirst soon quenched;
a sharpened flint
a wooden pole and sinew
and the cycle grows
until a birth in rage and pain
and I am here with you again.

SINCE YOU’VE BEEN GONE

I stopped by today so you could know
I’ve grown, stood in front of the stone
engraved with your name, your
lifespan, a small quote:
Wow. What a ride.
I remember the cemetery official
was not sure that quote was
appropriate. It needed approval.
I argued with him, said
he could not dictate what
we said about our father.
Certainly, he’d heard such words
before. A national cemetery
has its standards. It wasn’t
personal.
But it was.
Today thin November sun
bathes your grave, leaves
scatter around my feet.
Your voice recedes in memory
and I am startled to realize
I no longer lean toward it
as if I must hang on longer.

"growing quiet"

amidst the cacophony
of life at the speed
of now she sits,
quiet and reflective,
on the grass near
the stadium.
as the students
rush past she smiles
and holds up a sign
which reads, "nothing
to say."

Day 5 – Growth

The leaves lie piled
Dried and brown on the grass
Too heavy with rain
To be moved

A smell like verdant earth
Wafts above them
Reminding everyone of
The shortened life

No longer crackling dry
Like old women’s hands
They lie soggy and wet
In a dirty carpet

Two days go by
And the sun shines
The leaves dry out
And can be moved

Big heaping piles of leaves
The tree’s snakeskin shedding

And underneath
The first pale shoots of grass
Through the ground
Not knowing it’s winter

Lexi Flint---absolute marvelous in poetic form, I loved it. My two favorite subjects in life---1. Human anatomy and physiology---with emphasis on the physiology part of GROWTH---as portrayed in your MASTERPIECE. The other subject of favor: 2. Astronomy---studying the universe we live in. Among the greatrest of miracles is the birth of a chiold and then "the growth"--through EXPERIENCE. How best portrayed for all to KNOW--than through the eyes of a MOTHER based on EXPERIENCE.
Richard-Merlin Atwater "the Observer"

Training a Maverick Test Pilot

I watched ten small fingers achingly stretch another half inch upward.
Still measurable with a one-foot ruler, your unbalanced body wobbled on tiptoes.
You sensed that another unknown world depended on those hands’ great reach.

There had always been locks, latches, catches to cupboards, and a crib ~
a cage where you refused to stay, always tumbling down or screaming away.
All these you hated. Unabated curiosity cleaved to your DNA like eye color.

Audaciousness played the biggest part in our own parental partnership,
new pilots of an alien spaceship thinking we could control the airspace
between you and where you were going when you learned to lift off.

You were a souped-up plane impatiently waiting for the propeller.
Or precarious tightrope walker already on the highwire, going it alone.
I frantically braided your unfinished net, wondering where to place it.

Or you were the swimmer down a few fathoms to see the strange fish
without wetsuit, without oxygen tank, or even a waving thanks
for our having rescued you from land, sea and air. Then came the day

when your inevitable grasp clasped the front door’s knob,
and you stared at the outside air like it was a daredevil’s lair ~ baring
the subtle birthmark we’d always known was there.

Forced myself not to be too serious today!

Growth
There's a growth on my foot
It's starting to swell
I can feel it when I walk
But I can't really tell
If it's been there all week
Or maybe just today
I think it's started oozing
I can't go out and play.
This growth on my foot
Is surely something mean,
My ankle will turn black
or an ugly shade of green.
I think it's spreading up my leg
Wrapping around my hips
Strangling my tummy
With its nasty lips!
There's a growth on my foot
There's mucus dripping out
I bet it smells real bad--oh!
This pain I can live without!

What?
Look?
At the growth on my foot?

It's gum?
Pinkish dirty germ-y gum?
Sticking there on the bottom of my foot?
That's dumb.
Can you scrape it off with your thumb?

Anagrommatic GROWTH
(C) Rich Atwater Nov 5, 2009

Great
Reaching
Orangutan
With
Troglodyte
Hands
======================================
In honor of my 16 year old daughter Valya
who is a community service volunteer
at the local Suncoast Primate Sanctuary
whose residents include "Cheetah" the Chimpanzee
(age 80) who was in several of the Tarzan movies
of the 1930's with Johnny Wiesmuller. Yes, he is
still alive, and has neighbors whose GROWTH fits
this poem--a nearby Oragutan family

Myths grow feet

Myths saunter through our lives
as effortlessly as Hercules
could rip your check in half and say
your money’s no good here or Pecos Bill
could spin a three day novel
out of tumbleweeds and moonshine
They walk among us in disguise Medusa’s
masked and pixellated but she’s there
and stoning the unwary from a screen
Dragons dress innocuous and sell insurance
beside oracles in Farmers overalls
and naked cupids wag their butts in
the colored shadows where boy bands
wear chastity like bucks wear horns
Doe eyed divas sacrifice themselves
to blood-lust soulmates with a joy
akin to Minos busty bull maids
And beneath my fingers daily
little myths grow and walk off
were the ancients as bemused
to watch their creations disappear
or did they see them strolling
out the door to make their lives
and progeny that I see daily
in the grocery store and all while
wonder at the whereabouts of my
small creat-ures, baby aphrodites
and bastets, and if they’ll dare
to show their faces and come
tail-dragging home.

November 5th: Growth Poem

Sneaky Growth

My belly is gargantuan!
The mirror around me mocks
It’s been growing nine full months
And still this baby knocks
“More space! More room!” he cries
As I lie still in bed
And when I try to sit upright
I swear, he bumps his head
Finally, one day it’s done
A baby emerges; grown
Effectively, fully, inside me
My body, again, is my own
Again, I can look outward
Not so absorbed in “me”
And that’s when I notice my toddler
Has grown an inch or three.

Curling her stem
of a finger
at the prince
his gold crown
will she wear it
one day?

The boy with
freckles like hers
paints her cheeks
sweet pink
until she drops her
plastic tray
and he laughs
milk everywhere.

Lipstick rose
a shaking hand
cannot keep the lines
a car horn
he's here!

Wild kiss
Wild heat
Silent phone.

She touches his hand
for the eightieth time
leaves tremor in her stomach
this time a spark
catches
burns
stays.

OVERGROWN

Used to be a shortcut from overlook
to trail-head, steep with loose scree, tricky
footing but quicker than the switchback
trail. Sun going down fast.
Game-trail – must be the shortcut.
Get him back to his car by dark. Short-
cut overgrown with brush now.
Crawl on hands and knees

till daylight, as teams assemble
for the search. Look at him, arms and legs
scratched bloody, twigs in his hair.
What happened to his day-pack and
his jacket? Mountain
kept them for a souvenir.

The Youngest Child

Fifth birthday,
a begged for, Shetland pony
with saddle, is tied to the fence.
Can we change it for a purple one?

Tenth birthday,
we paint your room lavender
buy a sassy sorrel mare,
she bucked you off once but never again..

Fourteen,
you cut your waist-length hair
to the latest short style.
I cry and yell and cry.

Eighteen,
you graduate, leave for Denver,
with a suitcase full of dreams,
I dry my tears, smile goodbye.

Twenty,
a marriage too young,
heartbreak, divorce.
I cry for your pain each night.

Twenty Four,
a marriage, a child,
an alcoholic, an abuser, a divorce.
I feel capable of this man’s murder.

Thirty Two,
A marriage, return to the ranch
and build a home.
This man is a keeper!

Forty One,
An excellent wife, loving mother,
ranch partner, treasured friend,
and a woman of grace who wears purple.

Controlled Growth

He grew his Daisies in a pen.
Watched them loved them attended
them. The sun even counted itself lucky,
to be let in. He fed them nutrients
when leaves were limp and watered
their expanding downward roots.
This was his Daisy’s space.
All perfect petals.
All in their place.
White spikes, around the gold.
Spindly stems which would bend
but never fold grew inside
the tall fence.

But he never picked one, cut one,
never allowed himself to hold one.
Instead each fall
he watched them die in place
killed by the cold.

But one day he noticed
a sprout, a sprig outside the fence.
It had gotten across the bridge,
swam the moat,
broken out of the Daisy pen.
He sat his watering can
on the ground. Panicked, no idea
what to do, he reached down
and in one fell swoop he violently
ripped the single daisy from its patch
of earth and just when he was
about to toss it out, he threw it
back in. As he turned to leave,
a sunflower tilted,
slightly.

Bloodline

After Betsy Sholl

One of my parents was salt, the other ice.
In the night I’d wake choking, surrounded by water.

One of my parents was a cane, the other a husk.
One was a wing, the other a needle.

The eyes tattooed on my shoulder blades
keep looking backwards for answers.

Today, one of my parents is wind, the other a deer.
I follow behind to make sure wolves don’t sink

teeth into that parent’s spine, once ramrod,
and now, after what seems like one blink, so frail.

WORD GARDENERS

Planted on Sunday,
my seeds have sprouted
adolescent awkward
lanky and pale
and for a moment
I'm tempted to pull everything out
and start again.

But here come
RJ Clarken and Marie Elena,
armed with trowels.
Walt Wojtanik brings his weed-whacker
while Richard-Merlin Atwater
offers water
and Pamela Gordon brings the sun.

They and others
have grown such a garden,
I'm proud to nurture my own little plot
which, I hope,
will grow better with time.

Playing in the Kitchen

Jenny and I cook together tonight
as we do every week or two.
We meet in my kitchen, rattle the pans,
always try something new.

She’s never tasted celery root,
we’re keeping our eyes out for that.
I’d like fresh pumpkin in something bizarre.
Tonight it’s cheese-spinach panade.

We’re hooked on veggies, not on dessert.
Our horizons expand, not our girth.

Scattering Light

Even though I am grown,
I scuffle crunchy-crackly leaves,
marvel at ladybug’s creeping journey,
watch the butterfly’s whirling flight.
I gather the best shells,
the sparkliest rock,
the most windblown feather,
and line my pockets
with magic.

Even though I am grown,
how can I not teem with questions,
search always for answers,
while this sky is so blue?
It’s not, you know.
Molecules, atoms, droplets:
blue scatters around sky,
all these particles radiating,
radiating, and us
glowing right back.

This world pops and sizzles,
shimmers and shakes,
glimmers and glows
on its forever spin.
How can I not fling out my arms
and whirl and twirl right back,
breathless
with life?

Little Bits of Somethng

A little seed
A little soil
A little sweat
A little toil

A little waiting
A little weeding
A little compost
A little feeding

A little sunshine
A little shower
A little miracle
A little flower

YOU'VE GROWN

It's been ages since she's seen
her grandparents last. Last time

she was thirteen and nobody's girl,
but things have changed. When they

see, will they still "Sweetheart" her
and "Gimme-some-sugar" her?

She wants them to
act like nothing's changed, but

she knows what they'll do: step back
after hugs to get a good look

and where they look
will make her blush

and cover up. She'll know
what they're thinking and she'll know

what they mean when they smile, showing teeth,
and say, "My, how you've grown!"

GROWING OLDER

Shades of a wise grey
Strengthened by times of a new day
Feel it creeping ever so gently
Taking sweet time as it molds the used clay

"Getting Ready for Winter"

A tall man came to the door today
to ask for work—sweeping leaves, moving rocks,
lifting, scrubbing, carting—anything at all.
All day, he raked leaves from the bushes
and set fallen stones back on the wall.
Then he’d stand still to pull cigarette butts
from his jeans to see which one would light,
and gaze about himself from under a black hood.
From the window, I saw him pass, long gaited
and thin, fixing what needed to be fixed,
setting right what had been left for too long.
I wanted to pay him more than he’d asked.

Everyday


Everyday unemployment grows
where will it stop, who knows
The president claims he tried
while others lose all but their pride

In truth, we are in debt
one that our grandchildren won’t forget
all because of a lot of greed
once planted, there is no destroying every seed

Some say, let the economy bleed
Others, sitting in doorway
are wondering how they are going to feed
themselves and their children today

Still others have migrated to the subway
living beneath the tunnels
where no lights gets in the way
after all, it should be safe in the tunnels

While others seek to live in a shelter
A bed of crime so hot, they swelter
There you have theft, killing, and rape
But, these are the homeless, death is their escape

Everyday, their is a new victim
Everyday we give money to an immigrant to live
Why has uncle Sam picked him
when for our own citizens, he has none to give

They call it startup costs
Why not give those to a citizen who’s lost
Give him back his pride
at least he’ll have something to have tried

NO, we as a nation have lost our way
better to take those hard earned taxes
and just up and give them away
then when our vigilance relaxes

Do not give the money to the poor
No, it’s better to go start a war
Open that door
Send soldiers, Make bomb’s spend more

Everyday we wake up to the truth
a truth we choose to ignore
but, like an infected tooth
nothing will change for the homeless
or the poor. . .

Ralph J. Fitcher, November 5, 2009, A growth poem, about the growth of our unemployed and
homeless.

Finally caught up. Robert, I owe you a great debt of gratitude, I have been way too busy to get into my writing. This poem a day challenge really helped me get back into it. I am so busy, I am not certain I can stay caught up for long, but it's nice to have been writing again.

Ralph.

Sustenance

I eat the words, consume the words,
Words dribbling from my mouth
In my insatiable hunger for nouns and verbs,
Adjectives and adverbs, pronouns and pronouncements,
Meaning as meat.

At my seat I eat my fill
Expunge the useless and banal,
The spiceless and the mere,
Then write a recipe from all that I have learned
And kept.

I mix the words, the punctuation marks,
The phrases and the thought,
Bring them to a boil and let them sit
Commit to it, present it,

Turn it loose on scavengers
And other hungry souls
As well as critics who compare
What I have shared to other fare
And this is how I grow.

GROWTH

New parents
excited
watching baby grow

First words, steps, and
Pull-ups-to-go-to-bed
instead of diapers,
and the beginning of
“No”

Playing, singing
stories every night
Walt Disney movies till
their scripts become
everyday parlance
Sneaking into conversations as
sentences grow longer
with never-ending questions
always beginning with
“Why?”


Rainbows, hearts, I love you’s
last-minute, late-night science projects,
prayers over holiday meals
Christmases spinning by
Trees and toys and lights and Santa

Dance recitals, sports and martial arts
Chauffeuring, lecturing, cajoling
And begging those teenagers
PLEASE THINK FIRST!

College graduation, traveling
Moving away from home
Babies of their own
Where did the time go?
I must have blinked.

Art Lesson

My paper
starts its creative life
born white.

I pick green to color the stupid grass
as it tries to grow in the field
again.

Didn’t it ride
as an infant
on the zephyr wind?

Didn’t it listen
to its mother’s warnings
where not to fall and grow?

I color green
on land around Chequamegon Bay,
but too soon it’s peeled,
exposed,
used up.

Stupid green.

I color brown
leaves that slowly cover
in a crunching decaying
death of green
until the last crayon
is breaking.

Stupid brown.

I color white
snow that slowly covers
swirling in circles
until all that can be colored
is white.

Always the last to come out
of the pack,
always the last
to die,
you think you are smart,
white.

But you are never needed.
I held the emptiness of you
before I even started.

Stupid white.

Serpent Root (draft)

While the light crouches low
on rooftops and eaves,
Upon a shallow green sea
My craft, with its shabby keel
Shutters across the flotsam.

Exhaust curling about my nose
As a bull in mid-fight.
Pausing to consider the serpent tails
Rising in crimson scales
Or ending in bluegreen barbs.

It sinks in at once:
There are ancient deep wyrms
Coiled beneath my castle.
Slow burrowing monsters
Growing thicker each year.

The yew-snakes of Dunsinane
Wind through the eyes
Of the Thane for his sins.
Witches are easily trapped
By jagged waxy fins.

Battered naughts without eyes
Make gruesome faces in the skin.
I respect these branching giants
These tumid swaying leviathans
And seek their sacred whispers.

Walt - Thank you so much for the heartfelt message. The support of this online "family" is very important to me. Our family is weathering some difficult times right now, and it is comforting to know that I can voice some of the things I've been feeling through poetry and also to receive help and concern.

Marie Elena - It's good to have you back. You lift all of us up in so many ways.

"Annual Review"

Questionable growth
taken as insult
examined as falsity
hurled as unacceptable
in the moment of

accusation.

Questionable growth
taken at face value
examined as possible
hurled back at self
in the moment of

introspection.

Marcia McLees Bogaert

A postscript to Malignant Cells:

And Then

After the cancer
Life resumes and strength returns
A bit at a time.

Growing up to be a tree

I remember the teacher said we should lie down
And curl up (down and up) into balls like a bundle of seeds
Then we’d roll and we’d scatter the breadth of the hall
To our own private places where each child could squiggle and grow.

I remember the teacher played music that day
And she asked us to wriggle and squirm in the first rays
Of sunshine and said it was spring then we stuck up a hand
Tiny shoots that might tremble, grow firm in the sun.

I remember the sound of the drumbeat like rain
Make your roots spread out now said the teacher we lay
Like beached starfish pretending to swim then she said
Time to grow and we’d start climbing higher.

I remember I planted my feet side by side
And I stretched up my body, my arms held out wide
And my chin in the air and my neck (glad no vampires were there)
And my eyes gazing high at a ceiling that wasn’t the sky.

I remember we stood and we swayed in the breeze
And pretended that we were proud trees and our fingers
Were leaves then the wind blew too hard and they started to fall
And we had to stand tall still and silent as winter and death conquered all.

I remember we’d grown up like trees in the hall
And the music was changed to an axe and a saw
And the chopping and swaying we slipped and we fell
Till the tale she was telling was done.

I remember a child lying still in his crib
And the bubble of milk on his lips
And I knew he would grow
But I feel like a swaying tree falling today when he goes.

Nine

It used to be when my mother spoke
of great-aunts, great-grandmothers, and
distant cousins, I'd roll my eyes-- couldn't care
less about far-off family, about ancestors and who died
when and how. And how an uncle out of Ozark
had Indian in him ("wore his hair in two plaits
and all that"). But older now, I pull
up a chair to the kitchen table while she makes
dinner and I listen. Close. Ears catching,
latching on to every name: Aunt Opalina, Uncle
Nero, Auntie Nine. Nine is my favorite-- she is the one
who shot her husband, a bully-man, in the arm
("He left her and the children alone after that"). And that's
the kind of woman I'd want to know, the kind
of woman I want in my vein-blood, the kind
of warrior-woman I feel all in me now that I'm grown
and wanting babies of my own. Tell me more
about Auntie Nine, I say, and this makes my mother
smile. When she sees me with my pen in hand, she says
"What's that you jottin' down-- stuff for your poetry?"

At eighty-seven she was
still attending classes --
learning Latin, pottery throwing
and painting with watercolors,
feeling the need to exercise
both body and mind,
to keep growing.

She still recalleded
her grandfather, the vintner,
insisting each grape must be
picked at its peak

could hear him saying,
“If it isn’t growing,
it’s dying”.

My Personal Growth

For many years I stumbled
yet, determined to be strong
had hope for better 'morrow's
as I trudged along

Crossing bridges was difficult
with bloodied sweat and pain
sorting things out, not easy
and true some scars remain

Today, with past behind me
the place from whence I came
'altho the hardships, many
has made me who I am

Just outside my window
sun dances 'pon the ground
squirrels chitter chatter
with such a glorious sound

Birds sing ever softly
atop the maple tree
butterflies a'flutter
for thine eyes to see

The air is clean and balmy
with sky of clearest blue
dragonflies lay nestled
on roses moist with dew

It's such a lovely picture
when daisies rise to dance
taking in the beauty
thankful for the chance

Childhood dreams and fantasy
in mind forever etched
casting out all shadows
rebuilding brick by brick

The cobwebs swept from memory
I've made my peace of mind
stronger now, have purpose
through Faith and threads of time


November 5th, 2009
(prompt- Growth)

(c) Rose Marie Streeter

Self Talk

Deep stretch
Forward
No emotional breakdown
Quick breath
Stay strong
Get back to
Center
Go long
Slow
Take your time
Feel it
Deep

Eyes closed
Inhale positive
Energy
Exhale the
Negative
Shut the book
You don’t have to agree
Nobody is “right”
Stay flexible
Roll with it
Extend your arms wide
Breathe
Deep
No emotional breakdown

Stretch past your
Comfort zone
Let it hurt
Face it head
On
Don’t look back
Kick some ass
Get strong
It doesn’t matter if
Anyone else understands
No emotional breakdown
You’ve got this covered


Stretch it out
Take it slow
Because you want to
You know what to do
No emotional breakdown
Embrace it
Make it yours

With every stretch
Comes growth
The pain is
Good

Marriage

Out of oneself
slowly
leaving behind
that something
that identifies
joining
becoming
part of
another
growing together
one mind
one body
fingers
hands
skin
heart
hope
spirit
one being
grown together

Progress
(and other Fibs)


‘Come
g r o w
with me,’
the man says
and she is tempted.
He has clear eyes, and a kind face.
Her heart expands with new promise.
But old scars run deep
in young veins
and she
shrinks
back.

Magnification
(a Fib)

His
lies
grow large
seen clearly
through her lens of tears.
Her arms grow tired of holding on.
Her patience wears thin, sighs often.
But change harvests fear
and so here
she lies,
small
still.

Photosynthesis
(An epiphany that hits her like a Tanka)

No light means no growth.
Her third grade science lesson
comes crashing back in.
No wonder she’s still so small
living here in his shadow.

here,
in the dark,
in our bed,
you mark
me,

little
marks across my
skin.

birthday
by birthday, my
parents put marks
on the kitchen
wall.

tonight,
once again, you
mark me, little
marks across my
skin.

downstairs,
in the dark,
the kitchen wall
stretches

unmarked.

GROW! DAMN THEM! GROW!

Every time I pull one out,
three replace it.
Is it my punishment
for neglecting you all these years?
You should not suffer for MY sins.
The devils suck away your nourishment;
deprive you of needed sunshine;
keep you from tossing up your lovely heads
and from swaying to-and-fro in the late summer winds
to beckon the pollinators
we need desperately
that we may continue with life as we know it
so that others like you may bear fruit.
I apologize to you and promise to be
more assiduous in my attention to your plight.

W

Enjoyable reading, all. My favorites: Pamela Gordon, Nice!, Laurie, Good one., Theresa, touching. , Lexi Flent, well written., Katrina, love it!, Taylor Graham, love all your search and rescue poems., Melanie Kerr, like your poem not just a little bit., SusanB, great poem, well written. Heather, good one.

Heaven’s Garden

While scratching your tummy
I found a lump,
so I showed my Mommy.
She took you to the animal doctor
and he said there was nothing to do
but let nature take its course
and you could have a rawhide chew.

The lump never made you whine
nor did you bite my hand,
just always wagged your tail
and watched me scratch your tummy.

Over time you grew more tired
and your hair turned white,
but every night
you wagged your tail
and I scratched your tummy.

The one morning
when I awoke
your tail didn’t move no more.
I scratched your tummy
one last time
and then I called my Mommy.

And when I’m old and gray like you,
I’ll play with you again.
I’ll meet you at the garden gate
in Heaven at half past ten.


Life Cycle

First you were a seed
blowing in the wind,
then landing softly down
and sprinkled with some dust,
you sprouted roots
and grew a trunk,
and through the changing tides
became a stately tree.
Some logger came
and chopped you down,
to become the fine chair
where I like to set my bum.

Growing up
and liking it

was the name
of the flowery pamphlet
we were handed

The pages
heaped praise
on the flowering
of our bodies,
elaborately
matter of fact
about blood
and swelling
and growing
a baby inside

The shock was
how ordinary
these extraordinary
events were,
bleeding and babies
every day
in every part
of the world,

All captured in
a pamphlet
thin enough to
fold into
your jeans pocket

SHERWOOD FOREST: GROWING

Said Little John to Robin Hood
We must cut down some fire wood.
This sapling is nought but a weed
And it shall satisfy our need.
Said Robin Hood to Little John
I see some branches over yon,
All dry and scattered on the ground
Once burned then shall our warmth be found,
And so the tree was safe from harm-
And added to Fair Sherwood's charm.

Said Director Ben to actor Will
We need some scenery for a hill-
Behold, I see a sturdy oak-
Go cut it down like a good bloke.
Said actor Will to Director Ben
We'll use the painters' craft again,
But let me sit beneath the tree
And write more of my poetry
And so the tree was safe from harm
And added to fair Sherwood's charm

Said pensive Ron to jolly Jack
Development grows, alas alack!
Behold the wisdom in this tree-
But how much longer shall it be
Before it like its mighty brothers
Is sadly felled like many others?
Said jolly Jack with leonine might:
Those who care must stand and fight:
Take up your pens, brave warriors all,
Prevent harsh buildings that appall-
Dear reader, keep those trees from harm
And please protect our forests' charm.

I couldn't make this one fit in the 14 lines of the sonnet form--I had too much to say once I got started. It came out of a conversation I had with an old friend earlier today and my discovery that his early childhood was as gypsy-like as mine was. The growth in this poem is, in a sense, a growing into a place to call home, a claiming of a place to identify with. Hope you like it.

Finding Home

I remember Angleton, Texas a little:
a trailer, red & white, a dog named Fluffy,
a tree I leapt from, a bath towel parachute,
snow I wouldn't see again until my teens.
Clute was a trailer park, Lake Jackson
a duplex with a yard, walking to first grade,
Elisabet Ney Elementary, a new dog named
Sharezer, left behind by Aunt Eva Jean.
Six months or so at each--three schools
in two years. That's all I have of Texas now;
I don't feel like I'm from there. But Big Branch--
a dive bar on US 190, a trailer park,
a five star French restaurant we never ate at,
cattle guards on either side of the tracks,
blackberry brambles, a flowing artesian well
to drink from each afternoon, a schnoodle
named Peanut who chased ducks to watch
them fly, the dump truck my father drove
for six months, crawfish holes, the barn
where we raised dairy auction calves
named Steak and Spare Ribs till they
were old enough to slaughter, a burn pile
for garbage and compost for the garden.
Where I learned to ride a bike one-handed,
fell in love with my third grade teacher's assistant,
heard Professor Longhair sing "Carnival Time,"
smelled okra gumbo and tasted cayenne
which lives in my blood to this day.
Louisiana claimed me, claims me
today as son. I claim Louisiana too.

Swazi Love

Who knew that love could
grow so deep, so wide, in a land
baked by the sun, ravaged by disease?
Yet, under the glistening gaze of children,
beside the newly drilled well, with water
streaming clean, pure, cold -
the heart swells to the point of rapture!
Who would have known?

Laughter

Most people think it is conceived deep within the belly. A tickling, wiggling sensation like kernels of corn in a frying pan. Pressed upward by the force of the explosion as the kernel burst open. A sudden pop…a pop that seemed to happen so very quickly.
No growth, only birth. With each laugh a new birth.

But that isn’t how it happens.

Each laugh is actually new growth.

Ripples of the laughter that was planted in the muscular walls of the heart before time began. A tender seed that must be nurtured in order to grow.

Growing

Most every young girl wants to grow up
to be older than she is today, imagines how
wonderful it would be to have a job, be
independent, be free of parental rules.
At a certain point in life this changes
and each person realizes that with
the passing of each year one grows
older and eventually grows old and
whatever platitudes one expresses
and however wonderful one tries to
present aging there truly are very
few redeeming qualities in growing old.

November

little mushrooms peek
from beneath brown leaves
autumn’s not done yet

Growth

He’s twenty-one
inches long,
nice size
for a new baby.

See the chart
we drew
in pencil?
He’s four feet, two

inches tall in socks,
shooting up,
a sunflower stalk.

The boy has left
his father,
at six feet,
in the dust, now

that he’s grown
to six feet four.
Imagine
his height when he’s grown?

Have you noticed
that grandpa
is only five
feet six, and shrinking?

WOLVES AT THE DOOR
(Telemachus)

They first came in charcoal suits and Kenneth Cole shoes,
platinum watchbands around their wrists, bottles of grappa
wrapped in cellophane. But now older eyes are wiser eyes,
see them hide leering faces behind their ornaments,
crumbling fungus on the inside, blighted, wholly rotten.
Ruddy-cheeked and button-down, leading with their hips.
Jaguar in the driveway for a chariot, billfolds and
ditchwater cologne for an entourage.

They are the cause of violent dreams, of these fingerbones
plunging into their wanton eyes. No recourse
for men who mop the greed from their brows, for men
who covet their neighbor's wife, for men drawing lots in the dark
to divide her lingerie, her perfumes, her fine incorruptible gold.
Wanting to butcher her fidelity like the breathless doe.
In violent dreams, knife enters gut, black blood spills out,
boy becomes a man and watches the doe run free.

They are in the house, but what a trial to explain to the police
a pile of accidental corpses. Better to rein in the hatred,
be composed, mature in voice and untormented by dreams,
lie awake and wonder when the lord of the house will return,
give leave to his regent son for justice, swift and magmatic.
To prove manhood with aggravated assault.
Never was a temperamental child, but times have changed;
and they are staring at her so hard that she is unraveling.

GROWTH

They found the growth in his lungs

The shape of a leaf, he loves leaves

The whole fall season he looks forward to.


He weighed too much by one hundred pounds

Smoked one cigarette after another

swore they caused him no harm


His grandpa, uncles, father, older brother

Died from lung cancer

Before they reached the age of sixty.


He was lucky they said but he didn’t feel lucky

When he developed the staph infection

That almost took his life after removal of the growth


He spent months in the hospital, many weeks

In intensive care, he was weak and tired

He wanted to go home.



When he was asked if he would stop smoking

He said empatically, no. End of subject.

A defiant look stayed there whenever dr. asked.



When he got home, a thinner man, no papada

The growth excised and no sign of cancer left.

His sister asked him if he’d stop smoking.

He said, “I don’t know”.

I like the way Jeanne formats her titles—I think she’s incorporating a theme? I hope she considers imitation a sincere form of flattery 

Choices: Day 5: Growing

Disillusioned

My wedding dolly sparkled,
dressed in satin white,
eighteen inches of plastic beauty.

Every meal she sat to my right,
as near as her highchair could be pulled.
A dab of potato, three green peas,
a sliver of chicken rested on a tiny plate,
each bite lifted to her lips
by my young and tender hand,
slid into my mouth at the very last moment
surely unseen by anyone else.
Of course my dolly was hungry
and needed to be fed.

Full of love, I cared for her,
washed her, dressed her, and
one day, cut her hair, never doubting
the brassy nylon curls would soon
grow long again.

GROWING

My oak tree
has been growing
for hundreds of years.

From the enormous trunk,
two fat branches split upward.
From them, other branches
branch out
and twigs appear
that reach up
until they disappear
into the sky.

My soul floats
to the top
of the tree,
pointing at the clouds,
singing:
you are there,
you are there,
you are there.

Jane Beal
sanctuarypoet.net

I'm not a mother yet, but someday hope to be ... and even as I think about it now I often imagine that day when my precious one outgrows my arms ...

:Some days I just think of you this way:

Now it is I who am too small
to writhe from the grasp of your birth,
to turn time back.

It takes strength to see you toddle,
hold your laughter in your grasping hand.
Now you shine.

Now an older smile
wriggles its way loose, beaming
smile of latter day

death. Your teeth and toes
no longer infant. Now you fix your gazes
high, toward heaven

you swing, Heaving yourself
starward to fly, wander down from these arms,
and tall as the sky.

The Engine Sputters Before It Stops

You still haven’t mowed;
overbearing green towers
endlessly higher than the weeds.

Endless excuses line the
the empty gas can sitting
in the back corner of the garage.

Give it another month,
the grass will rise high and
cover the windows and doors –

Trapping you inside the house.
Darkness cascading over
and keeping my secrets.

No one will ask where you are.
They’ll just see the lawn,
and figure you’re drinking again.

Growing Up

Like a kid on the playground
being pushed again and again.
Your final shove pushes me over
the edge and creates the reaction
you originally asked for.
I didn’t want to give it.
A silent mouth is my self control.
Substituting words with body language.
I’ve held everything in, trying to
protect you and be a better me.
That doesn’t matter, when you pull
your string wrapped around my emotions
just to see if you can.
Stick them in your pocket and add to
your collection of battles won.
Hold on to your trophies and feel your control
with your fingertips in your pocket, while I
let go of this
and move on.

Life

Growth in consciousness.

How many of us know when we grow?
For most, we hurt, and curse the paid
and only later realize we're easily looking over
the table we used to stand on tip-toe to reach

More kudos to: Katrelya Angus (great job); Maureen Blake (darling!); Janet Rice Carnahan (simple wisdom -- well done); De (you always manage to say so much in so few, well-chosen words. Especially enthralled with your epiphany.); Patricia PSC (as always!); Rose Marie Streeter (Personal Growth is touching and well done); Michelle H. (bless you heart); Katherine Hauswirth (great observation ... gives one pause); Brian Spears (feels like home); Linda M. Rhinehart Neas (what a blessing); Joseph Harker (your talent to spur strong emotion never waivers)

RJ: Thanks for the encouragement and kindess
Janet: How beautifully you express your appreciation. Thank you.
Theresa: Praying for you and your family, hon. What a wonderful tribute you penned. And thank you for your kind words.
Daniel and Walt: Breathing, and remembering this is not a sprint. Phew! (She writes, at 1:00 a.m. ... )
Debbie Ohi: Oh my! I'm so honored to be in your lovely garden. Thank you so much for including me in your tender poem.

I am going to grow old trying to post this poem

How Your Novel Grows

One word at a time the novel grows
The words pile up as the word count soars
The finish line is miles away
But it looks like you’ll make it by finish day

The story takes shape as you write your thoughts
The characters compete for a place in the plot
The scene is set the lights come on
For the adventure in your head to get written down

One thousand word here, 500 there
The words are coming fast and all in good time
Then one of your characters stumbles and falls
The plot gets all side tracked and is nothing at all

You want to throw it out start over or worse
Quit while the words are so mixed up and reversed
So go take a break, have a run or a swim
Clear your head write a poem, shake off this lead

Wait a minute, maybe that character should just die
Get him out of there as he is causing such a mess
Dying for him would maybe set this all right
Would make the story grow and the words flow tonight

You only need to write 43,572 more words
That can’t be too hard with him out of the way
You have the rest of November so off you go
To write more words and help your novel grow.

Its all about personal growth after all
The poems, the challenge, the novel
It’s a learning experience with a story at the end
One that may even be worth reading who knows

Growth



Green chutes claw through hard core land

Rains fall gently soaking the earth

Omen of hope for plants season

Wind whistles song stirring around

Thunder storms shake earth with sound

Heat is a promise from our Sun


RAYMOND ALBERTS

THE FIRE

Licking at the dry paper
Racing along the curled edge
Little devils of orange and red
dance with glee
Tiny red embers spark and jump
It's fury grows
Snapping, popping, crackling
the pink flowers darken
then disappear into it's hungry mouth.
Red hot fingers climb the wall
the wallpaper lifts and twists
the flames eat through
everywhere black ash, red flame
a purgatory painting
It leaps to the floor
races along the carpet
up the bedpost
Feeding on the filmy lace
A crystal angel
standing guard
on the mantle of the offending fireplace
shatters
hurling shards into the inferno
Now it licks the ceiling
feeding it's greedy appetite
Consuming with abandon
no barriers to block it's fury
It is heedless
to the drenching water
that rains down from the fire hoses
A red and orange monster
Black plumes billowing into the night sky
the throngs gathered at it's edge
gasp and fall back
as the blackened windows
Burst outward
Spewing shards from it's entrails
Growling and howling
It's fury reaches a crescendo
Hope is abandoned
Now, the only thing to do
keep it's mighty rampage in check

J. Kuykendall

The tender bud
opened slowly
feeding hungrily
on pure energy
that caressed
her being
hoping grace
would entice her
aging blooms,
curing the blight
that twisted her branches
until her mangled limbs
had broken every shivering
petal off its crown,
leaving brittle thorns to
ward off lonely prey
that still hunted
her beauty that swayed
among the moonlit shadows.

(to grow, again)

There's so many great poems in this bunch - wanted to say a quick thanks specially to De, Cara, Theresa, for sharing such touching poems.


Eden

There is nothing growing here any more.
The fallen leaves are smothering the plants
below. Lemons rot on the roots of the
tree that bore them. The geraniums have
seeded and are taking over the lawn
but they cannot bloom. Two silent crows weigh
down a telephone wire, one poised to take
wing

Growing Old

Everything was marshmallows
and running barefoot in the grass.
Giant pines, rubber boots,
trillium in the rain. The chain of
daisies made the princess.
Beautiful was dragonflies
and grandmother and calla lilies.
This is how the door closes: climbing a tree
in the backyard becomes a story
about climbing a tree in the backyard,
a story that opens the door
to memories, barely recognizable,
stories told again and again
until they gain significance.

Pierced ears, slumber parties,
a best friends necklace.
The knobby surface of a football.
The tremble of a kiss.
A boy who smells like thyme and
letters folded origami-style
buried deep in a pocket.
A strip of black and white
photos taken in a booth at the
county fair--found in a book of
american poems--the promise to
"stay cool forever" forgotten.

The black dog shot and
buried in the neighbors backyard.
The headache and vomit
of a first cigarette.
Being picked last, tripping
in the hallway, a bad haircut.
A boy kicked and punched
to death on a football field--
no one remembers how this happened,
how rage breached the thin blue line.

Falling leaves, frosted blades
of grass, a sun that sinks
too soon. This is growing old, this
is a story about a memory, a story
about the smell of grandmother's
pumpkin pie. About a hayride, under
the harvest moon. About climbing a
maple tree in the backyard.

If Only I Could… Grow Old With You

I would have liked to...

See the flowers bloom;
Make out the lines on a map,
And watch our child grow.

Glimpse you through the haze,
Look deep into your bright eyes,
Envision your face.

Watch the crows that fly,
One for sorrow, two for joy;
Seven being sly.

Look at a rainbow;
See clouds scudding in the blue;
Observe a sunset.

Gaze at the ocean;
Stare at the wonders of dawn;
Distinguish colours.

Make out lightening bolts
And discern the horizon;
To see my future.

Days fade into nights
Arms folded and eyes shut tight
Yet my mind’s frantic.

Blank cinema screen...
With nothing worthwhile showing,
All hope has vanished.

Debbie Ohi "Ohi--O!" Thanks for the "Special" Gardners poem. May I have your permission to include it in Volume II--Perspectives on Life which will go to publication early next year. Volume I Perspectives on Life was submitted to the Columbia University School of Jornalism as a nomination for the Pulitzer Prize in Literary verse. Decisions will be made in April 2010. Volume II Perspectives on Life will be presented to the same committeee for the 2010 submission. Your poem with permission would be added to the Appendix as a reference. The book contains the original poetry of "The Poet Laureate of "the Maine Woods" and "Romantic Psalmist of Tampa Bay".

By the way 75% of the earth's mass is made up of WATER. And 90% of the human body is WATER. My nickname is "Moses" from a fellow church attender. In Egyptian the name Moses means ATWATER. Pharoahs daughter found the baby boy in a basket in the Nile River. As she drew him from the waters of the Nile she said: "I will call him MOses since I have taken him from "the water". My first name "Rich" is also a Bible name---you may recall it says in the good word "He that hath eternal life is "Rich".
Keep the Garden of Words growing and flourishing along with RJ CLarken, Marie Elena, Walt Wojtanik, Pamela Gordon, and all the others who have planted so faithfully.

Garden Memories

Rhubarb shafts erupted every spring
sour stems for crumble,
cabbages that went to seed
sometimes, before we could eat them,
always mint for sauce
with lamb on Sunday.
In the greenhouse tomatoes,
one year a glut
that ripened on every window-sill
until I sickened of them.

The garden seems shrunken
the hedge we hid in
barely waist high,
veggie garden overgrown
with weeds, empty plant pots
and spiders in the greenhouse.

Home, I plant bok choy
and basil, tend my
compost heap and
remember Dad.

Trilliums

Trilliums in the woods
resurrecting in May -
virgin white or wine red
three-lobed flowers
for the holy trinity:
earth, sun, rain.
Around them lie
last year’s leaves, like blessings.

Jenny Doughty

Oops! Posted on Day Four. "Maybe" I got distracted while reading there. Reposting these "growth" poems for the correct day below.


LITTLE CHILD
(Full Grown Melissa)

You always were the apple of my eye,
and your very first smile melted my heart.
The world stands still whenever you're nearby.

The greatest gift that money could not buy
was truly you, who made my heart restart.
You always were the apple of my eye.

As you grew I really could not deny,
your beauty was completely off the chart.
The world stands still whenever you're nearby.

My darling daughter, you're my prayer's reply,
brightest star in heaven and oh, so smart,
You always were the apple of my eye.

And now you're all grown up, but still I try,
to keep that baby girl close to my heart.
The world stands still whenever you're nearby.

As you start this new phase, I'll be close by,
to give support and help you get your start,
you always were the apple of my eye,
the world stands still whenever you're nearby.





THINK FOR YOURSELF

Use your head and think for yourself
nobody else knows what you need.
Put insecurities up on a shelf,
use your head and think for yourself.
Others have trepidations themselves,
don't let them plant fallow seeds,
use your head and think for yourself,
nobody else knows what you need.

Growth


Volunteer

The biggest success
in my garden
this year
was planted
by the wind or
a bird or
a careless squirrel.

Its vines surround
the back gate
and invade
our yard.

And its pumpkins
blaze big and
orange in
the late-fall sun.

It is good to plant
with the best
intentions.
But often, it's better
to accept
the volunteers.

Some really great poems yesterday.

Growin’ a Poem
By: Meena Rose

First a spark, then a seed;
The writer's muse it does feed.

When in a zone;
Sitting all alone;
A concept, a thought a paradigm;
Rushes in without forewarning;
This gives cause for much reflection;
Understanding is finally dawning;
Time to descend into introspection;
This always happens regardless of time.

Ascending from introspection;
Time to conclude inner reflection.

A rush of emotion;
Soul shredded beyond repair;
Time to settle the commotion;
Time to climb out of despair.

Time to put ink to paper;
The universal witness;
To miracles unfolding;
To a Soul’s true healing.

Word by word;
Stanza by stanza;
Soul is in recovery;
There has been much discovery;

Pain is gone;
Poem is done.

Time to bid Poem farewell;
Thank you dear Poem;
It is now time to show ‘em.

Growing on Myself

I’m finally able to look and say
Yes dear you’re ok
As I stare at my own reflection
A year ago it was unbearable
As I stared at my sobbing face
Tears streaming down my cheeks
And my body shaking
Unbearable.
Judging all that I was
And everyone around me
Blaming.
I’ve shifted
Even the cells in my body have changed
As I surrendered to it all
I never did anything wrong!
It was all just an experience
Nothing good/bad right/wrong
It simply was.
And I am fine.
I’m growing on myself
Love.

From miniature to mural


Bartholomew Foggerty, the brilliant weasel
Had not always painted in ketchup and diesel
He had started like many with water-colour
But had a desire for a texture more fuller
He had moved on by progression to working in oils
And had been well received for all of his toils
Some of his best work had been very small
Even to him and he is not very tall
They fitted perfectly in the small of his paw
And were the envy of all those who saw
These delicate works done in miniature
Still life as well as portraits of creatures
He moved on to working on a larger canvas
And his fame grew and it came to pass
That he was commissioned to paint royalty
Which he did wearing pin-stripes out of loyalty
But his greatest work in many a sense
Had started out just behind a fence
A wall needed covering to show the exploits
Of great men of the land playing billiards and quoits
He worked with a scaffold to do the high parts
And was readily praised for the skill of his art
With a ladder he managed the middle section
Which was full of great detail and deserves a mention
Finally with two feet back on the ground
He finished the mural with a crowd gathered round
He signed it B.F.(Weasel) as ever he did
And danced about like a frolicking kid
The fame of the mural spread far and wide
Which was viewed at its best from the other side
Of the busy main road that it cheerfully lined.
But above all and apart from the fame
And the praise and adoration attached to his name
Bart received payment in coin of the realm
The most he’d seen, he was quite over-whelmed
Sometimes when he’s lonely or feeling blue
He knows exactly just what he should do
He’ll take a stroll the mural to see
On view to all and best of all free
It cheers him up to see his great masterpiece
And sends a shiver all through his fleece
To note that the populous still gather there
To marvel at the painting on a wall once quite bare
But his muralling days are long left behind
And its always new challenges he has to find
Which is why he is musing behind his easel
Daubing away in ketchup and diesel.



Iain.

Debbie Ohi - thank you so much for the nice mention!

The Journey: Day Five: a poem about growth

If a seed turns into a flower
but there is no one to smell the fragrance,
it remains a beautiful bloom.

If words turn into a poem
but no reader can decipher inference,
the poem never blossoms,
remains a pack of phrases,
a waggle of words, a litter of letters
bound by lines and tethered
to the imperfect arrangement
of a writer’s inspiration.

Excellent work from Patty and Iain Iain, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a HUGE fan of Bartholomew Foggerty. WOW.

Maureen, love your Disillusioned poem. And please, with that kind of result, imitate away!

My personal rules for this challenge:
- write and post my "prompt poem" before reading the poems other writers have posted
- write and post in the order the prompts are given

I don't want to be even slightly influenced by how others interpret the prompt, even Robert, so I don't read what others have written until after I post my poem. I want to challenge myself, stretch my wordsmithing, try to produce "on command," which has never been easy for me.

Thank you all for your wonderful contributions to this challenge.

Thank you Robert and Brian for the opportunity and encouragement.

Jeanne

I'm trying to follow the same guideline too, Jeanne - not reading the others' poems before I post mine. But I really want to find time to read some of them soon - there are a lot of good poets who respond to the challenge. Unfortunately, I haven't been good about writing my poems promptly, or in order, but I've caught up, I think, and I should be a little more timely the rest of the month. I'm still having trouble deciding on a theme, but I think one may be starting to form.


Thriving

The tree in our yard has been growing
for over thirty years – we’ve fed it,
mulched it, trimmed the dead wood
when we must, and admired it from
our front window, watching it register
the seasons – white blossoms in spring,
shady green in summer, yellow rain
of leaves in fall. We have marveled
at new branches and fruit. It amazes us
how healthy it is after so many years,
unlike those of some of our neighbors,
who have already cut theirs down -
from rot and blight, failure to thrive,
or maybe they just got in their way.
We have no regrets though – ours
has only grown stronger, since we
planted the seed on our wedding day.

I used to be able to post from home via my iPhone. Sniff, can't do that anymore so I'm chronically late with posting.


How we evolved


We battle each other as much as my disability,
once the first flush of guilt passed and they

realized how hard my care would be.
The war fought in this house has grown

to include parents, siblings, even the dog
as the yelling escalates to plates thrown,

food spattering walls, each other, me.
I can go away. Close my eyes, refuse

to acknowldge even a hard rap on my head
while I play back better times, when I could run

from the house. Instead I wait for some
able body to open a door to a ramp, which

connects to a sidewalk leading to the outer world.
I seem to have shrunk to fit the world inside

this house. But I want to grow wings and
escape my family's loving chains. Even if,

like Icarus, those wings fail me in the
end and I come crashing back to earth.

“It’s making for the stairs”

My first rented London flat
Had a garden, two bedrooms,
A kitchen and a bathroom.
It was owned by a lilting Irish couple
Who assured me brightly
That everything in the garden was rosy
That everything in the flat was darling
And all for a rent almost miniscule.

The first weeks were bliss
As I cleared the debris
From the garden, sowed lawn and planted bulbs.
Then one day,
Over-night the bathroom sprouted fungus
On the shower compartment walls
That soon started spreading
And heading for the kitchen.

“Dermot” I quavered on the immobile phone,
For Dermot was my landlord’s name,
“You better come quickly,
Before we’re over-run.
There’s fungus in the bathroom
And it’s making for the stairs.”

.
Once all-knowing,
my motherness comes
to the point where I am clueless:
I am unable to sort good music
from bad, and cannot
properly match my clothes.
I have been there myself,
remember my own mother
knowing so little. I will
give good advice again
maybe when I am eighty.
.

My Prayer

How do You suffer me, Lord?
Please extend Your grace to me.
Where is my praise, my rejoicing,
where is the joy of my salvation?

You, Father God, are glorious,
You reign in majesty above the Earth.
There is perfection in all Your creation
and You alone sustain.

Forgive me, Lord, for all that I am.
Forgive me for all of my wrongs.
Not for what I am or what I can bring
but for the sacrifice of Your Son,
forgive me and make me whole.

You are the light of the world,
You are the joy of the heavens,
You are life, You are love, You are truth,
You are peace, and in You alone I will rest.

“Public Service Poem #1”

It’s one of the worst conversations
to have

especially
in the middle of the night.

Talking about it
is the wrong strategy.

Lose yourself

watch tv
eat some cereal
finish the Sudoku
from earlier today

because at half past midnight
with an expectant partner

candles burning
into puddles of waxy mush

and your body sponge-bathed
in flop sweat

the question goes from
academic to rhetorical:

“why won’t it grow?”

Richard-Merlin Atwater: Of course you can include my poem. And thank you!

Marie Elena, RJ Clarken: You're welcome. :-)

Everyday, I am growing
as an individual.
Every song I hear, every
movie I see, every book
I read, every stitch
I knit, turns and molds
me into someone new.
Yet I don't feel any
different. I'm still that
same little girl I've
always been: shy,
awkward, insecure,
and unsure of who
I really am or what
I'm really doing here.

Spring and summer wood

Her measured growth years
Maple door hung on hinges
Lean, fat depending rainfall

It was my birthday yesterday, so I didn't get to this till late...but here nonetheless...cake for breakfast!

Growing Passion

She had a passion to begin,
details sometimes lost in the rush
to start again another flame.
So it is, when fire is young,
sparks fly and burn, too quickly done.

Now she knows her passion runs.
She grew into life poured
through strife and her Art,
into the details and justice,
she nailed finishing touches.

"Love Grows"

Each word exchanged
Each laugh or frown
Each glance at you
Draws me closer
To your arms,
Draws you deeper
In my heart.

With just one kiss
Or brush of your hand
Grazing softly
Against my skin
Goose bumps grow
Sending chills
up and down my spine.

Smoldering passion
In your eyes
Reflected brighter
Within mine,
Hard to believe
After twenty years
Our love still blooms
And grows more dear.

growth

you couldn’t see it from
across the street where she
waved you over.
even on the porch, she
was soft smiles and gray curls.
inside was lunch and everything
was delicious. even she laughed
at the sound of the
furniture sticking to summer
skin.

it was when she leaned in
to kiss you that you saw it

coming for you like a radish
on her rumpled
red
mouth.

The Illusion of Flight


When he enters the studio
he is a young master in training,
leaving behind his Star Wars
and superhero characters
for something more heroic.
He bows,
cinches the white belt around his waist
and begins the way of the foot and fist:
a rapid fire of front kicks and back kicks,
side kicks and roundhouse kicks,
punching with the skill of a warrior,
almost mystical in his concentration.
Watch his body glide his open-hand strikes,
giving him the illusion of flight—
this man cub,
expressionless in his execution
but happy in an existence
far away from here.

The Riverfront

Once industrial and
commercial in a tacky way
unlovely under smoggy skies.
The shores of the Tennessee now boast
the Aquarium, the ballpark,
the Riverwalk winding under bridges
and zigzagging up to the Bluff,
running along the River for miles to
Riverpark,
the expanded Hunter Museum of American Art--
lovely antebellum mansion flanked on
either side
by angular glass and steel,
the antique sky-blue-painted trusses of
Walnut Street Bridge
spanning the river and reserved for
walkers pedalers boarders joggers skaters,
North Shore shops beckoning just past
the carousel of hand-carved-with-care
jolly frogs, rabbits, horses, what-have-you
housed in a giant enclosed gazebo
in Coolidge Park with its grassy lawn
a circle
surrounded by walkways eventually leading
to the majestic Delta Queen,
once-mighty river cruiser
now floating-but-docked hotel.

One day I walked at twilight from the ice cream shop
and crossed Riverside Drive to the newly-built
funky-color-lighted pier, licking the ice cream
out of my waffle cone.
I leaned on the pier rail and marveled at how
the city and the riverfront came to evolve,
one glorious change begetting another.
And I thought,
Chattanooga, the River,
it's like me, my writing and my life.

Growing Seasons

The children grew like weeds, she’d say,
mindful that chickweed and morning glories
flourished when all else shriveled and died.
Not staked in rows like her pole beans or hoed
into hills like her Idaho reds, her children
roamed the farms at leisure, laying claim
to all as theirs, a possession they would
never subdue, nor would they wish to.

Together they grew crops enough to feed
the four of them, then three when they
were left alone, going through the mindless
chores that left them time to muse
on life, sifting the shaff for the kernels
of truth in just that moment, never
written down, simply digested for now.

They always planted extra, growing some
for the helpless that always came their way,
for those who grew nothing but weary
and hungry and more alone. You never knew,
she would remind them, who might happen by,
another Ruth, a secret growing deep inside,
that would not spring to life for years.

She knew, too, that they grew restless,
fearing they were only fit for this farm,
envying others their escape to places
where day began at daylight, where
dark of night could be postponed.

Grown

A kernel
An infant
An acorn
A cell
A toenail
A leaf
A mind
All start small
And with
Food
And care
Grow

Progress
Like an idea, a motion, a project
A smudge, a picture, a work of art
A seed, a form, a life
You became one with me, a long term achievement.
I was proud of us. You grow with one another
A moment, an era, a soul

Un-Wrap-ture

Back in my callow years,
When life still held
A passel of promise-tipped
Arrows in its quiver,
I marked my ascent
Up maturity’s beanstalk
In graphite impressions
Scribbled on the wall,
Each quarter inch a milestone
Toward adult liberty.
Today if I could I’d
Hunt down my pink
Eraser, expunge that longed-for
Freedom, efface those pencil
Traces if it meant
Just one more day
With you.

It started as a way across,
perhaps to a someone, a rich-soiled field,
an opening to sunlight or a place for the giant fire.
The intelligence to cut through. To head directly.
The weeds cleared, the way, by use, made smooth, the bigger rocks rolled away the smaller trampled flat by laden animals working widened a network spokes joining so unending a way across too fast too steep too rough too cold across to what he has and a way to take it how easily his women break and their hair their hair smells different deeper then faster faster load heave all they have how strange they are sightlines followed with wet pavement dry the lily no longer opening at the edge of view and the peaceful too all moving blur fast past the green briefer and briefer the mating sounds of smaller things unheared the rising whisper of our restlessness the music of the world and

it grows.

cement fills in between its arms and freezes into a stage for the reaching and losing of our individual desires the reaching is what matters

Growth

There
up against
the wall I
was told
to stand
my height
pencil marked
in horizontal
dashes
year folding
into next
until
our things
packed in boxes
a truck idling
in wait
my mother rushed
flustered back
and scoured
away the years
blank
for those to come

THE HUMAN BODY © Richard-Merlin Atwater

Anatomy and physiology, the physique of mortal man,
And also how it operates so intricately on any given day,
Is such a fascinating discovery for one to comprehend or understand,
'Cause the multitude of systems within work together in harmony, hand in hand, I'd say!

The structure of the clay of man has functions from within
That are timed and move like clockwork on the wall.
What makes them 'tick' may not be clear at the drop of a pin,
But the body's daily rhythm begins and ends on time at call.

Cells and tissues formulate to create an exciting embryo,
And shape and size accumulate into threads of chromosomes,
Will it be a boy, or will it be a girl, I really do not know.
Sperm cells and the ovum of fertilized egg cell determine it at home.

That little living blob we call a cell is active as can be in every way.
It takes in food, it breathes the breath of life, gets rid of waste, and works a job,
There are just so many members in a community to hold its' sway.
But each component is necessary to perform the final function of a blob.

The nucleus directs all other parts, like President to be,
The little dark threads, once a great mystery, are now called chromosomes.
While the mitochondria can change your food into living energy,
While combined chromosomes have forty-six little threads that sweep just like little brooms.

Then there is a white little circle that is called a vacuole,
It dumps the garbage from the cell with help of filaments.
And ribosomes take substances to make a protein in a bowl.
While lysosomes digests things not needed to maintain pigments.

The Golgi complex is a group of odd shaped little bags,
It functions as a warehouse to package material that a cell must often use.
And centrioles help out when cells grow and multiply in zigs and zags,
While the outer membrane is protective coat as it grows to amuse.

Similar cells work together to formulate tissue,
They manufacture chemicals, digest food, and have many other jobs.
Some produce mucus to keep the tissues moist at issue,
While their size and shape and configuration are just so many gobs.

There are muscle cells, long and thin, and bundled up together;
Nerve cells with the brain to think and feel.
There is connective tissue, tendons, and ligaments, and blood cells light as a feather;
Cartilage, bone cells, skin cells, and epithelial matter to heal.

Now let us take a look from the outside to the in,
And examine man, or woman, as they truly are.
We'll view the outer surface that we call skin,
It consists of thickly dermis just inside, and epidermis that's abar.


The skin is made of three main layers after all,
And the inside layer, called the dermis, is the thickest.
And the middle is of soft, plump, almost square celled wall,
While the thin sheet, outer epidermis, keeps us from being sickest.

Tiny fibers of material called keratin help kill a surface cell;
And the dead cells overlap and cling to form a waterproof film.
It takes two months for the cell to be pushed to the surface knell,
And a million dead cell skin flakes leave the body every day at the helm.

Epithelial cells make up the three layers of your skin.
While hair grows out of follicles in the bottom layer.
There are nerve endings, sweat glands, blood vessels, and fat cells from within,
And sebaceous oil glands sometimes causing acne that one must bear!

Skin cells also form a lining of the mouth, the nose, and throat!
And continue down through the lungs, the stomach, and intestines too.
The skin cells of your tongue multiply very fast at night, afloat,
Causing mucus, releasing thousands of dead cells for each evening's adieu.

When sunlight hits the surface special cells protect you from sunburns,
The cells produce a brownish substance we call melanin,
And millions of little air conditioners which are the sweat glands,
These coils of cells produce a mixture of water and chemicals for sweatin'.

When sweat reaches the top layer of skin it evaporates and carries off the heat;
An adults sweat glands produce three cups of water when it's warm!
But exercise, and quite excessive heat, make ten cups an hour, quite a feat!
It's drawn from tiny blood vessels, and lymph that bathes the body's charm.

Your skin reveals the outside world so you can know within the truth,
As special eye skin covering called the cornea lets light inside to see.
And thick ridges on your fingertips called papillae are proof
That your identity is more different than anyone else can be.

Scattered throughout the dermis are tips of nerves that keep the brain informed,
Of hot and cold, of hurt and harm, and soft caressing touch of love as well.
And your skin keeps your delicate inside parts from drying out or being worn,
And kills the germs, and bacterial yeasts, with antibiotic chemicals that swell.

A mixture of melanin and other coloring substances called pigments
Produces different colors in people's skins around the world.
The brown, the yellow, red, or white in everyone's stigments,
Or albinos with no pigment, are enveloped in 'miracle wrap' unfurled.

Now let's take a look at how we eat our food, digest, and emulate,
To become what we are of chemicals, enzymes, and nature's call;
From the alimentary canal, that goes from top to bottoms gate,
And a multitude of parts that form the digestive systems mall.

At the top are teeth to chew, salivary glands to dissolve, and pharynx to swallow.
As you chew your tongue and cheek muscles squeeze and mix with saliva.
This liquid moisture made of tiny globe-shaped molecules called enzymes, not so hollow,
Is the start of the digestive process for you, and for me, and also for 'Lady Godiva'!

As you cut, and crumble, mash, and shred your food,
And grind to bits and pieces with your teeth,
It is still not small enough, nor liquified to mood,
For the cells to use without digestive action down beneath.

Hence down the esophagus it must go to reach the place
Called stomach, heavy-duty mixer, lined with epithelial cells.
Protected with a mucus, sticky substance, to withstand the acid taste,
That pours from glands and works with millions of enzyme gels.

Three bands of stomach muscles help to squeeze and churn,
While twenty-five million glands squirt juices for the job.
Strong acid, enzymes, with water seeping from blood vessels, learn
How to squash and dissolve the food and crush it like 'the mob'.


The pyloric sphincter at the bottom of the stomach operates like the cardiac one up above,
Through this gate some liquids flows into the tube-like small intestine,
Twenty feet long, it winds back and forth as your abdomen, my love!
To keep you well nourished, and healthy, through the duodenum line.

Movement is helped by millions and millions of tiny, waving, finger-like villi,
They line the intestine walls with three tubes, two of blood, and one of lymph.
The molecules of starch, sugar, and protein float about to work like Melvin Belli,
Then suddenly they disappear into blood vessels with minerals and vitamins like a nymph.

Juices from the intestine wall come from the pancreas and liver,
They combine with stomach acids to prevent the hurt of cells,
Enzymes in the juices chop fat molecules to make them useful, thither,
Still other enzymes by the millions break down the food it fells.

Nourishment to all the body's cells is carried by the blood,
Vitamins and minerals and chemicals that make us what we are
Are sucked about through many capillaries in a flood,
While fat molecules and other vitamins travel to lymph vessels afar!

Some leftovers move along into the cecum pouch,
Which makes the beginning of the large intestine tube.
And dangling there is useless vermiform appendix, ouch!
A worm shaped extra part that is a worthless boob.

From the cecum the thick liquid of undigested food is pushed along,
Be it apple, bread, or exotic cuisine from afar,
Since fiber is not digested in the small intestine furlong.
The large intestine bacteria use the leftovers and keeps it in a jar.

This bacteria turns some food into vitamin K for use,
Your body uses it to make substances that stop the flow of blood when cut,
At the same time the bacteria produce waste material called gas, or refuse,
While the layman's language calls this place 'the gut'.

Here vast numbers of bacteria live and grow, and multiply and die,
While the last remains of food move through the large intestine tract,
The waste reaches the bottom of the rectum, including mother's apple pie,
And becomes the feces eliminated through the anus in an act!

Though the liver and the pancreas aren't strictly digestive in their call,
They do help food to change for your hundred trillion cells,
The pancreas makes insulin to control the amount of sugar for all,
And the liver produces a greenish liquid called 'bile', as one tells!

The bile is stored in the gallbladder's pouch which release down the bile duct.
And the pancreas pours out a cupful of liquid to mix each day,
Together they flow into the small intestine, the final stage of digestion sucked
Down from the stomach to its' useful place I'd say!

Now the liver has at least seventy more jobs to boot,
And inside are thousands of little bunches of cells called lobules,
Blood brings food and vitamins to each lobule as loot,
Or sends them along to feed your cells and nobules.

The liver manufactures chemicals to help make a blood clot,
It destroys red blood cells that are worn and have passed their day.
It even gets rid of certain poisons, harmful if not caught,
Then it changes protein into sugar for nature's way.

Finally the spleen should not be left out in consideration,
Like the liver, it removes worn out red blood cells all along,
It's a reservoir for blood, and an emergency station,
To release the extra blood and lymph when things go wrong.

It's time to take a look at the circulatory system here and now,
And the most important part is obviously the heart.
The heart is a pump made of muscle that squeezes blood, Wow!
It has its' own electric motor of small clumps of cells, a pacemaker to make it start!

The heart pumps blood through 60,000 miles of blood vessels,
And the beating of your heart goes ka-thump, ka-thump all through life,
And your doctor can listen with a stethoscope to this wonderful muscle,
To determine health, and understand if you are happy with your wife!

The pacemaker cells sends out little electrical currents,
Which signal the heart muscle to contract and squeeze,
Between signals the heart relaxes, then pushes blood in torrents,
To the top of your head, and to the bottom, way down below your knees.

The current makes signals about seventy times a minute,
Which is equal to, but not the same as, your pulse.
That's the throbbing, wave-like motion of contracting arteries, in it
Is the blood that moves along to feed each cell and give you health.

There's a complicated path of blood vessels from the heart, throughout the body,
But they all return back to the heart now once again.
Blood comes into the heart through a vessel called a vein, Oh Lawdy!
And the squeezing chambers sends the blood through arteries, some as small as a pin!

The pin-like, tiny, capillaries help to feed parts of internal organs,
And the blood passes through the liver, and intestines to pick up food,
It also picks up necessary oxygen from the lungs, as it runs
And together, food and oxygen, help determine your ultimate physical mood.

The heart has four chambers that function like two hearts,
A left and right atrium, with valves, help do the pumping,
At the top they perform quite well their parts,
While left and right ventricle at the bottom do their thumping.

While the atria fills with blood, ultimately they expand and contract,
Then the atrial valves close, and the ventricle begins its' chore,
The left side pushes much harder than the right pact,
But all four chambers give the blood an extra push, galore!

A grown person's body has about twenty-four cups of blood,
The liquid part, the plasma, is yellowish and mostly water,
It has twenty-trillion red blood cells to help thicken it like mud,
And five million can fit on the dot of an "i" inside your daughter.

These tiny red blood cells seem to look like rubber rafts,
They carry oxygen in the red substance called hemoglobin,
And are manufactured in the bone marrow shafts,
Two-hundred and sixty-five molecules of hemoglobin are in one cells bin.

A new red cell spends four months rafting in circulation,
And it makes 160,000 trips to and from the heart.
Two and a half million red blood cells die every second in a ration,
While the same amount are newly created to do their part.

It's a marvel of the body to have a system to recycle,
For the worn-out cells are not wasted very fast,
Through the liver and the spleen they must travel,
And dead cells soon reappear again with life at last.

Blood also contains white blood cells, like detectives,
Several kinds wander around the blood stream and move against the current if they need to,
Their job is to protect against germs and chemicals that lives
Contrary to the needs of the body that we know.

A lot of white blood cells wait inside the spleen,
They pounce upon invaders then grow bigger,
They quickly divide creating many new cell beans,
To pursue the germs, then bounce like Winnie the Pooh, and Tigger!

Platelets are often called cells but are really only fragments,
But they contain chemicals that helps your blood to clot.
Suppose you cut your finger and then it foments,
The clot stops the bleeding, and keeps the germs out of the spot.

But should some germs get in to cause infection,
Then the white blood cells unite with lymphocytes,
They slither their jelly-like bodies through capillaries for inspection,
Receiving signals from certain chemicals that the infection excites.




Red blood cells contain two different substances for uniqueness,
Their names are "Type A" and "Type B" to categorize,
But those with neither substance are "Type O" for preakness,
While those with both substances are "Type AB" for size.

To make a successful transfer of blood transfusion,
For saving life and to keep the ill man fit,
"Type A" can give to "Type A", "Type B" to "B", and "AB" receives all three's illusion,
But "Type O" can only receive "Type O", but give to all adrift.

Thus the heart, the veins, the arteries of blood vessels,
With the gates, the valves, and all the little capillaries too,
Complete a marvelous circulatory trip through all the muscles,
So that's why we call it the circulatory system, anew!

Let's turn our attention now to the immune system and its' call,
And let it first be known that your body's cells live in a warm bath of liquid.
Special white blood cells called lymphocytes flow from wall to wall,
And they contain a speck of chemical called antibodies to fight forward and backward.

The lymphocyte antibody attacks a virus or a germ,
Such a foreign substance does not belong in the body at all,
The lymphocyte grows and produces new cells called plasma cells firm,
And another kind of white cell called phagocytes digests the invaders as they fall.

Viruses and "memory" cells sometimes come into a conflict too,
So when the chicken pox disease tries to do you some harm,
The lymphocytes with antibodies not only kill and destroy the flu,
But also kill chicken pox and retain "memory" cells with antibodies and plasma for an immune alarm.

A vaccine to prevent one from getting a certain disease, or more,
Is created by taking killed or weakened viruses that cause the disease,
With a sharp needle they are injected into your arm and pores,
And the lymphocyte cells create antibodies and "memory" cells to put you at ease.

Now the lymph system is quite wondrous in what it does,
But sometimes it fails to perform the way it should,
Thus pollen from flowers with a chemical called histamine of cloves,
Cause cells to explode, creating allergies, not so good!

But generally our body serves us very well,
And immunity and lymph are a marvel to behold,
There are lymph nodes formed by knobs of tissue in a gel,
And the tonsils, adenoids, and even the spleen are lymph nodes very bold!

As lymph flows through every node the body has,
Bacteria and some waste matter are destroyed you see,
Through the lymph ducts, thoracic duct, and lymph vessels pass
This protective coat of warm liquid for immunity.

The respiratory system is how you breathe to stay alive,
What you breathe is a mixture of gases, the main one being oxygen,
Oxygen combines with food to produce heat and energy, 'til five,
Then it's time to rest, so you can breathe easier at home in your den.

But should you perchance decide to do strenuous exercise,
You'll need extra energy to help to pull you through,
Therefore you breathe much harder as some living cells dies,
While others take in more oxygen to help you feel vigorously new.

The respiratory breathing all begins inside your nose,
Your nose acts as a guard of outside gate to your sensitive lungs.
The air travels past some hairs that inside the nose grows,
Trapping large particles of dust to stop them getting caught in bronchial rungs.

Other bits of dust and also germs get caught in sticky film of mucus too,
The mucus-making cells also line your throat and your windpipe,
And they proceed towards the lungs throughout your tubes,
While a tiny hair-like forest of cilia help to clean away and wipe.

Now the respiratory system includes the sinuses, pharynx, epiglottis, and larynx,
And all of them are located in the head or in neck.
They're each involved with breathing, cleansing, and maintaining bearings,
For the breath of life to keep you from becoming a wreck!

Now the lungs are quite extraordinary in their function,
The right lung has three lobes, but the left lung has only two,
There's a lower lobe, a middle lobe, an upper lobe and bronchial unction.
While the larger bronchus is the main attachment to the trachea windpipe tube.

Your lungs act like a pump that has a motor made of muscle,
Which is driven by some signals from the brain.
It is called the diaphragm, which stretches underneath your lungs as bustle,
And can tighten up, or get shorter, then expand its' frame.

Other pumping muscles are attached now to your ribs,
And they often pull the ribs up and outward with a breath,
As the chest cavity goes from being bigger down to smaller there's less pressure to the bibs,
Now air can rush out, and in reverse air comes in to prevent death.

Now attached below the bronchiole extension,
Is an alveoli group of bubbled cells and tissue,
It is here through breathing that carbon dioxide gets remission,
And is expelled as the molecules of CO2 at issue.

Thus the respiration of a human body acting,
Is a matter for the brain to exercise,
In conjunction with the lungs and other apparatus exacting,
Which if you fully understand they'll think you very wise.

The body's method of sifting waste materials out of the blood is called to excrete,
Thus the excretory system now comes within our fall,
Other wastes, the solid kind, leaves through the intestine seat,
But the urine waste methodology is a separate system in its' call.

It all begins with two bean shaped organs we call kidneys,
And each is about the same size, that of your fist,
You can think of them as two recycling factories,
With a million tiny workers called nephrons, now that's the gist.

Each nephron takes waste out of the blood to purify it,
Then puts back into the bloodstream everything that is as useful as can be,
Blood rushes into nephrons through a cluster of the capillaries slit,
And they taste and test it for salt and chemicals and recycle back only what the body needs.

There's a lot of water in the liquid that is useful,
And a lot also the nephrons send to waste,
It is collected in tubes called the ureter where it lulls,
And drains down from the kidneys ex post haste!

Waste of nephrons, and that from the liver mixed with water, often fill the tubes,
And they form what we call urine, sometimes pee!
Which when a cupful collected in the bladder lubes,
Causes nerves to signal the brain and says: "Please empty me"!

In the kidney there are functions for withdrawal,
From the renal pelvis, to the glomerulus ball,
A convoluted tube and loop of Henle,
While blood and waste pass through the capillaries wall.

The two million nephrons in your lovely kidneys,
Cleanse your blood of waste once every forty-five minutes at home,
Every day the nephrons send six cups of urine to the bladder seas,
And the yellow colored urine, from chemicals in the bile, win its freedom.

The excretory system has another name, the urinary tract, as well,
And the lower tip of the bladder has a ring shaped muscle sphincter,
To control by thought how much to keep or sell,
But a baby doesn't think about it much, just lets it rinse-ter!

Now the brain and central nervous system come to vogue,
What a complicated mess of mush to learn about,
But it functions quite intelligently, be you sage or rogue,
And it's the system that sets you completely free from doubt.

The headquarters of your nervous system is called the brain,
While the nerve cell neurons connect the brain to other neurons in a network,
They reach to all organs of the body whether you're normal or insane,
And they do what must be done, be you a professor, or a jerk!

Perhaps a hundred billion neurons transmit electrical signals,
But most of the neurons are found within the brain,
We can simplify the understanding of a complex brain's enigmas,
By naming three parts: cerebellum, cerebrum, and the brain stem train.

Now the brain stem is an extension of the spinal chord,
It is control center for the digestive, respiratory, and circulatory involuntary action.
While the cerebellum orchestrates physical coordination, balance, and equilibrium at the board,
And the cerebrum is the largest, most sophisticated of two hemispheres at traction.

The two hemispheres are joined by bands of nerve fibers,
They include the corpus callosum, with a core of white,
Myelin-covered nerve fiber, surrounded by gray matter, are called the cerebral cortex cybers,
And it starts and stops all your voluntary movements, including a fight.

The cerebral cortex likewise receives all your conscious body sensations,
It's responsible for learning, judgment, creativity, and emotions too,
Different parts of the cortex are responsible for different functions,
It controls sensations of sight, hearing, taste, and smell to give you a clue.

To break it further into opportunistic understanding,
The cerebral cortex is broken down into four ventricle parts,
A right and left lateral ventricle, a third and fourth ventricle handing,
And all together they have quadroplex uniqueness like the heart.

Now the brain is both surrounded and protected,
By the skull, the meninges, and cerebral spinal fluid,
Discs between the vertebrae provide cushioning that's detected,
While the fluid occupies the ventricles associated with the bloodstream steward.

The left hemisphere of the brain causes one to be right-handed,
And is responsible for producing and understanding speech,
It also causes some to be good at reading, writing, and logical thinking demanded,
While the right hemisphere reviews the perception of music, artistic ability, creativity, and emotions to teach.

The brain is only two per cent of a person's body weight,
Yet it consumes twenty per cent of the energy produced,
The energy comes from glucose (blood sugar) and oxygen in rate,
And brain cells will die in five minutes if oxygen is not seduced.

Through a complex network of nerves, electrical signals carry messages to and from your brain,
Your nervous system is always collecting information from the inside and outside of your body,
And the system processes and stores information, while acting on others, such as messages to muscles and organs concerning pain.
And building up a memory, and understanding of new ideas, be they good or naughty!

There are twelve pair of cranial nerves within the brain stem,
While eight pairs of cervical nerves control your arms and neck,
There are twelve pairs of thoracic nerves for the thorax chest gems,
And five pairs of lumbar nerves control the legs and feet at deck.

Your sympathetic nerve trunk controls some autonomic reactions,
While six pairs of nerves from the sacrum and coccyx help the pelvic organs and buttocks to move,
And down through the center of it all is the spinal column tractions,
For a complete electrical message service center groove.

Your somatic nervous system controls voluntary actions,
For your body's relationship to the environmental outside world,
While the autonomic nervous system regulates inner organ factions,
And controls the body's internal environment kept aswirl.

Thus your brain and central nervous system perform many different tasks,
It is all done with split-second timing which is quite efficient,
Such as heart rate, blood pressure, breathing rate, you ask?
Digestion of food, and many other body functions beyond nutrient.

Now in addition, but in conjunction, comes the sensory systems view,
Your nose to smell, your tongue to taste, your eyes to see, you see,
And the complicated ear to hear, for both me and you,
While the sense of touch rounds them out to five, to be, or not to be.

But in reality you do not see with your eyes, nor hear with your ears.
These are sense organs that collect information from receptor cells,
They pick up clues that send electrical signals along sensory nerves to the gears,
Thus you see and hear, touch and taste, with your brain, which also smells!

Your skin has five kinds of receptor cells that cover the entire body on the surface,
They detect heat, cold, light, touch, pressure, and pain, all about,
Thus in touch sensation you can feel many different things so perfect,
And the first of the five senses can even cause you to shout!

Another sense called hearing seems as complicated as can be,
But to hear a voice to say: "Hello", we take for granted every day,
There's the outer ear, an external auditory canal, you see!
But inside are meticulous components to help understand what you say.

Three small bones, the hammer, anvil, and stirrup vibrate inside the eardrum,
Another drum, the oval window, covers an opening in the spiral-shaped chamber of your inner ear,
Here there is a liquid and extremely small hair cells that vibrate to a hum,
And the jostling sends electric currents past the cochlea so your brain can hear.

Three hollow tubes, the semicircular canals, and eustachian tube,
Are not a function of your hearing, even though inside your ear,
Filed with liquid and patches of little hair cells in a cube,
They control your sense of balance so you can walk far or near.

Now all the parts of your eye work together to let your brain know what you see,
If a computer had to do the same thing it would take ten billion calculations in a second,
Millions of receptor cells make up the retina lining, the inside of your eye for free,
Rod cells give black and white images, and cones detect colors which beckon.

A transparent skin covering called the cornea protects the inner eye,
It lets light pass through the retina so the brain can understand,
The colored tissue, iris, surrounds the pupil, an opening to the inside tie,
While coating sclera connects to the optical nerve, a connecting band.

There's a transparent sac of fluid called the lens,
And muscles change its shape depending on the distance of an object.
Other muscles attached to the outside of an eyeball, all depends,
On whether you wish to move your eye to an up or down, left or right direct.

Now to taste depends on a clustered bunch of receptors,
A batch of two hundred taste buds line the crack around each bump on your tongue.
Others are scattered on the roof and back of your mouth imperceptored,
And altogether 10,000 taste buds formulate, not very far flung.

The buds on the front of your tongue detect things that are sweet,
And just behind these they pick up salty tastes that materialize,
Buds at the side of the tongue detect the sour, Oh how neat!
While buds at the back detect the bitter things, what a prize!

A smell is something you will never forget once your nose has picked it up,
Your smell receptors are high inside each nostril in a little patch of cells,
There are twenty million receptors in each patch with a twenty hair-like bristle cup,
Dissolved in mucus, molecules start electrical signals to whom the brain it tells.

In addition to electrical currents for messages to the brain,
There are many different messengers called hormones, made of chemicals,
Thus the endocrine system enters now the fold to feign.
Which from glands empties the chemicals directly into the blood ventricles.


There are more than a dozen endocrine type glands,
And the master is the pituitary, or regulator, up above,
Hormones from the pituitary move through the blood stream strands,
To regulate the release of other chemical hormones, such as love!

Hence even your "feelings" are endocrine in nature,
And many other bodily activities are too, you see!
One of the pituitary hormones is the growth hormone, I'd wager,
It helps you grow to become what eventually you will be.

The growth hormone is responsible for many major changes,
And the pituitary sends messages to the sex glands as well,
Hormones in a girls' pituitary and ovaries cause her breasts and eggs to make re-arranges!
While the testes of a boy causes hair to grow, voice to deepen, and manufacture sperm cells!

All of this is endocrine in nature as a teenager moves through adolescence stage,
Through a certain phase one is but a child, or just a baby,
But through endocrinology and hormone movement through the page
Of life, one becomes an adult, capable of having children of their own, maybe!

The hypothalamus serves as a link between the autonomic and endocrine systems,
It regulates hunger, thirst, sleep, and wakefulness also,
It controls body temperature, sexual drive, and the menstrual symptoms,
And regulates the master pituitary gland I'm told!

There's the pineal gland for vestigial memory,
And the thyroid and parathyroid glands for metabolism and calcium and phosphorus in the blood and bones,
And the thymus gland to influence lymphocyte activity,
While the adrenal glands affect intense emotions, mineral and water balance, and other things related to your clones!

Finally the pancreas, stomach, small intestine, and kidneys too,
All have double functions as exocrine duct glands producing liquids,
And as endocrine glands releasing chemical hormones through
The ductless method of the blood streams flowing quick-wards.

Next, the skeletal system is more than just a collection of bony props,
The bones are living parts of you where important things happen.
Half of each bone is a hard mineral, one-fourth is water, the rest is living cells and tissue drops,
And the center, buttery-looking marrow contains fat, and keeps things snappin'.

Near the ends, long bones have spongy areas where nerves and blood vessels run in and out,
The spaces are filled with a tissue called red marrow,
Like a factory, the red marrow manufactures blood cells all about,
Some are red cells, some are platelets, some are white cells rather narrow!

Every second the marrow makes more than two million new red blood cells,
And if you need more oxygen while you exercise,
The kidneys detect this need, squirt a chemical into your blood gels,
And the chemical signals the marrow to produce more oxygenated red blood cells inside.

The skeletal system is the framework for your body,
It protects your delicate organs, and enables you to stand upright,
Muscles attached to it allow you to move to and from the potty,
And there are 206 bones in the adult skeletons delight.

The skull, face and ear bones, are 29 in number if you count,
There are 26 bones in the vertebrae, or neck and back bones,
And the ribs and breastbone called the sternum stand as a mount,
To protect the inner vital organs of the chest cavity functioning tones.

The shoulders, arms, and hands have 64 bones in number at the call,
While the pelvis, legs, and feet have 62 bones to help you move,
That's a lot of bones from the top to the bottom of you all,
But without them you'd not be able to dance about to the groove.

The jaw bone is the mandible, and the upper arm bone is the humerus,
The shoulder bones are the scapulae, While the collar bone is the clavicle,
There's a radius and ulna in the forearm, and the femur thighbone, not so numerous,
The knee cap is the patella, the shin bone the tibias, and the leg fibula is not so laughable.

The wrist bones are the carpals, while the hand bones are metacarpals,
The finger and toe bones called phalanges, and the tail bone is the coccyx,
There are tarsals that are ankle bones, and foot bone metatarsals,
There's the sacrum, pelvis hip bone, and the broken bones to fix.

The tough membrane covering of your bones is the periosteum,
And this outer layer is called compact bone, surrounded by Haversian canals,
And through the canals blood vessels bring food and oxygen,
While the inner layer honeycomb is called spongy bone, for your marrow pals.

Now your spine, or back bone, as we said is many vertebrae,
These many small bones are held together by ligaments,
And the spinal chord down the center is an important nervous organae,
While spinal disc, shock absorbers, fit between each segment.

And where two bones meet we have a joint to bend, or turn, or twist,
In a movable joint there are ligaments and muscles to hold the bones together,
The ends of these bone connections have very smooth cartilage, get the gist?
So they won't injure each other, and a special fluid-like mechanical oily leather.

Let us shift our attention to the muscular system as it were,
And recognize three muscles types to group at call,
There's the skeletal muscles attached to bones to help you move, sir!
And smooth muscles to control internal systems of involuntary actions though small.

And finally the cardiac muscle of the heart to help you pump the blood,
Is a system by itself from the circulatory range,
But all the muscles consist mostly of protein in a stud,
While fat tissue is more prevalent in the female tissue change.

The human body has more than 400 skeletal muscles all in all,
They are marvels, complex bundles of cells and fibers too,
Each muscle cell can contract or relax as the brain does the call,
Indicating that good muscle tone, or good condition is there for you.

There are muscles in the head and face called the temporal and massater,
In the neck and shoulder is the sternomastoid and trapezius,
The large shoulder muscle is the deltoid fastener,
And the major chest muscle is called pectoralis major for easiest.

In the arm we have the biceps and the triceps,
As well as the brachialis and brachioradialis too,
On the back and sides is the serratus, latissimus dorsi steps,
And the deltoid extension to complete the glue.

Now the tummy is the rectus abdominus extension,
To the side is the gluteus medius after all,
And the buttocks are called the gluteus maximus retention,
While the exterior oblique muscle fills the upper side wall.

At the front thigh are the quadriceps and sartorius muscles long,
To the back leg are hamstring muscles upper, and the gastrocnemius, the calf,
And running to the foot is the Achilles tendon, not so strong,
While the ligaments surround the ankle and foot on either half.

Muscles are often arranged in pairs, to bend a joint or straighten it back out,
Such pairs are called antagonists because they oppose each others motion,
Some muscles are flat such as the diaphragm for breathing all about,
And the muscles of your face are only attached to skin.

Sphincter muscles are circulars and enable you to open or close,
While the muscles in your back help stabilize your spinal column so you can stand upright,
Leg muscles help you stand, shift your weight, run, and jump when you don't doze,
And arm muscles are arranged in similar ways in case you want to fight.

Muscles protect your delicate internal organs especially in the abdomen,
Your stomach swells after eating, and a woman's uterus swells when she is pregnant,
Therefore three layers of strong muscles are needed when they can,
To do the job that could not properly be done by bones, extant.

The contraction of a muscle is triggered by chemical process,
The myofibrils of a muscle cell slide over each other to shorten,
The chemical process involves two proteins, myocin and actin, we assess,
And this neurotransmitter is served by a branch of a motor nerve begotten.

The work of your muscles requires energy from a combination of glucose and oxygen,
It's necessary to have both carbohydrates and protein in your diet,
Combined with exercise, which helps increase the content of glycogen,
Hence the greater strength and stamina for your muscles even when quiet.

Finally we come to an examination of the reproductive system,
It takes a man and a woman united to create a human life,
But both together yet still require God and His wisdom,
Who foreordained procreation to be employed by husband and wife.

The chief organs of the male to reproduce are testes to create the sperm and a penis to release,
Other parts of the system help to store or transport in their function,
And the ultimate purpose is to bring about ejaculation as arousal begins to cease,
And for millions of sperm with DNA-coded instructions to meet an egg at fertilization junction.

The testes are egg-shaped glands found within the scrotum sac,
The scrotum keeps the testes at the necessary temperature for sperm production,
So if it's cold, to obtain protection, the muscles of the scrotum will contract,
But if too hot the same muscles will relax for the scrotum's released reduction.

The testes contain endocrine cells, many tiny tubules, and connective tissue,
The endocrine cells are instructed by the pituitary gland to produce male hormones,
The foremost being testosterone which leads to ultimate issue,
As "the Bible" calls the stuff which leads to life with skin and bones.

The tubules, originally solid, develop canals at puberty,
Then tubule walls which are lined with cells develop into spermatozoa,
These male sex sperm cells pass through the epididymis and vas deferens tree,
A twenty foot tightly coiled thin tube, for twenty days to store sperm cell protozoa.

During sexual arousal the mature sperm move from the epididymis to the urethra,
Fluids from the prostate gland, the seminal vesicles, and Cowper's gland,
Are added to the sperm to neutralize acids (both male and female) and provide nutrients at draw,
And this mixture of fluid and sperm, called semen, carry the DNA brand.

The urethra is a tube that runs from the bottom of the bladder,
And continues to the tip of the penis, with three parts:
There's the roof, the shaft, and the glans called the foreskin ladder,
And muscles close the bladder's outlet when the semen's in the cart.

The autonomic nervous system causes rapid flow of blood,
From arteries into cavities in the spongy erectile tissue,
The veins contract so blood is trapped inside the penis in a flood,
And ejaculated release of semen becomes the issue.

The semen contains hundreds of millions of the sperm,
And the head of each sperm contains the DNA-coded instructions,
Half the blueprint of 23 chromosomes comes from the males term,
While the other half of 23 chromosomes belongs to the female reproductions.

The sperm go lashing their whip-like tails from side to side,
Then they swim for two hours along the female reproductive tract,
Millions of sperm die along the way at tide,
But only one sperm manages to meet an egg to fertilize the fact.

During each menstrual cycle the female produces one mature egg cell,
The chief organs of the female reproductive system are two ovaries and the uterus,
The ovaries produce the one mature egg about every 28 days each spell,
And the uterus provides "the nest" where a fertilized egg may become the baby "Gus".

The female has three passageways, two fallopian tubes, and the vagina,
During sexual intercourse the male penis releases sperm into the female passageway,
And if the egg becomes fertilized it is nourished nine months and may become the girl "Dinah".
Once she is pushed and expelled through the vagina on her birthday.

The two ovaries are almond-shaped organs, one on each side of the uterus chamber,
Ovaries are made of immature egg cells surrounded by hormone-producing cell and connective tissue,
A girl is born with from 40,000 to 300,000 egg cells in each ovary to remember,
Beginning at puberty they produce the one mature egg at mid-menstrual cycle issue.

Hormones from the pituitary gland regulate the ovaries work,
These hormones are progesterone and estrogen by name,
They are responsible for female sexual characteristics gone berserk,
During puberty to enlarge the breasts, grow hair, widen the pelvis, and other games.

An egg and surrounding epithelial cells is called a follicle,
At the beginning of the menstrual cycle several follicles move to the surface of the ovary,
One breaks open to release the egg, a process called ovulation, not diabolical,
Picked up by the fallopian tube, it forms the endocrine gland corpus luteum to carry.

On goes the process of a thickened uterus, and hair-like cilia in their motions,
Aided by the peristalsis of the tube walls to move the egg along,
Fertilization of the egg takes place while on the journey of emotions,
While the uterus stretches during pregnancy which excites the mother enough to sing a song!

The inner part of the lining of the uterus is called the endometrium,
During pregnancy, with progesterone, it is thick to nourish the fertilized egg,
This prevents a new concurrence of menstruation in the atrium,
Since menstruation is the shedding of the endometrium and its leg.

The menstrual discharge passes through the neck of the uterus, the cervix, and vagina,
Since the female body has a separate urinary and reproductive opening you see!
The opening of the vagina is protected by folding skin, the labia, mind ya!
And where the inner labia meet in front is the erectile tissue, the clitoris, known to be.

During female sexual arousal the clitoris swells to excitement,
And in young girls the vaginal opening is protected by the hymen skin,
It becomes stretched or torn during first sexual contact, like broken cement,
With pituitary hormone response the entire menstrual cycle repeats itself over once again.

Up to 500 million sperm may enter the vagina as they mate,
But each sperm and each egg have different sets of DNA,
Thus a great variety of characteristics are passed by Mom and Dad at gait,
That's why brothers and sisters are much alike, but different, come what may.

Sex chromosomes are of two types, an "X", or a "Y",
The egg has only "X", but the sperm contain either one,
If union becomes "XX" chromosomes you'll have a girl, don't cry!
But if "Y" sperm makes "XY" pair a baby boy is born!

By the time the fetus is an inch (two and a half centimeters) long,
Almost all of the organs of the human body have been formed,
During the final six months of pregnancy, assuming nothing's wrong,
The fetus increases more than 100 times in weight and 20 inches stormed.

The placenta is the fetus's own special development organ,
And nutrients and oxygen move from the mother's blood through it too,
Then on to the fetus's blood so it will grow and have fun,
Becoming a new born baby when it's finally through.

The fetus lives in a fluid filled bag, called the amniotic sac,
Within it the fetus kicks its legs and swims around also,
It can experience sensations, hear noises, tell light from dark,
And feel its own body and explore the environment with hands as they grow.

The nucleus of cells have many thousands of genes,
Genes instruct your body to produce all the molecules it needs,
The genes are made of deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA, it seems,
Which stores inherited information, and making of exact copies of the beads.

Each person, with the help of RNA messengers, has a unique genetic sequence,
Your DNA controls your sex, height, hair and skin color, and immunity and allergies also,
It furthermore directs development, growth, systems functioning pretense,
And makes you different from everyone else in all the world.

Now after all this mess of mush and guessing,
The human body corrupts and it ultimately dies,
But the chemicals and dust of earth from this dressing,
Is not what makes a man, or woman, in the guise.

There's a spirit oozing life within the body,
It's the spark of life, and also the light of Christ within,
But when it's time to go, sometime way after forty,
The spirit separates and goes to join the next of kin.

Hence the soul is made up of the spirit with the body,
It's the complete and total aspect of mortal man,
But when the time comes to reach the state of glory,
Through resurrection they reunite, never to separate again.

It's the plan of God to gain eternal life and immortality,
Hence the human body is a place to gain experience,
On the planet earth we come for some short rationality,
Then proceed to after life without a glance.

But the human body is also a temple,
And there are rules and laws that we all must obey,
In order to fulfill the measure of our creation, simple,
And to return to God, from whence we came, some day!

A man must be united with a woman in sealed and bound estate,
Along with their children enjoined under covenant true.
Part and parcel of “the New and Everlasting Covenant” of Gospel fate,
Which leads to exaltation and complete and full joy and happiness for YOU.

THE EXPANDING UNIVERSE (C) Richard-Merlin Atwater

The marvels of the planet Earth transcend the mortal mind,
And yet there lies a Universe of vast, unfathomed space
Of Stars, of Galaxies, and a myriad of unknown kind
Which yet await a deeper search for conquest in the race.

Our mortal globe was placed by God to service all mankind.
A home for beast and fish and fowl, and a botanic garden too!
For placed within its atmosphere is the known living rind,
Both spirit and body, make a soul for experience on "the planet blue".

And this "blue globe", our mother Earth, a spaceship as to be,
Encircles Sun with precision course around its orbit zone.
With axis tilted in exact accordance as was meant to be,
While spinning around like a school child's top a circling at home.

The planet Earth, "the living planet", is teeming with known life!
From here we begin to expand our knowledge beyond the mortal realm.
In search of truth, a greater knowledge, sometimes known as light.
But not just spectrum of emanation, but rather assurety and calm.

To have the knowledge of the Gods on Mt. Olympus throne,
Not of Zeus, nor of Apollo, but our living Heavenly Father.
Creator of the worlds unknown, beyond the Terrestrial stone.
Where life eternal continues to expand, and all eternity gather.

We begin our search as to the Sun we look for evidence,
A ball of fire for energy which emanates to sustain life.
Placed 93 million miles from home by the hand of Providence,
'Twas Jesus Christ, the God of Earth, Creator, and Bridegroom wife--

Who placed this Star in fixed position to carry out its course:
The greater light to rule the day, and the lesser to rule the night.
The noonday Sun in glorious splendor, a mighty, stalwart force.
And the Lunar, Moon, at eventide to balance out the sight.

And 'round the Sun in orbit zones revolve nine known planets,
We call the group our Solar System because of their common tie.
But life is found on only one, the planet Earth, made of granite.
Though each unique within its realm provides a congregation in the sky.

So let us now begin our search, expand our discovery too,
And look upon this limited realm of our Solar System clan,
The Sun, and Comets, and Asteroids, and nine planets with their satellites anew.
Survey their make-up, revolutions and velocity, and distance at hand.

Perhaps we first should view the Moon revolving around the Earth,
Which orbits us with only one side facing us,
The dark side of the Moon, more rugged, cratered without mirth,
And no water and no atmosphere revealed there is no life, thus:

'Apollo missions' to the Moon brought man to stand on thee
To find with half a ton of Lunar material the rocks were just like ours,
And mountains, craters, and broad, flat, unwatered 'Maria seas",
But no man, no animals, and no botanic plants or flowers.

The astronauts left scientific monitoring stations way up there upon
the Moon,
And Lunar exploration continued since that date of destiny:
July 20th, 1969, a small step for man, but a great leap for mankind's boon.
Six landings o'er three years, twelve men to stand on thee.

Four hundred thousand kilometers away from planet Earth.
A four day voyage for the trip for trained and ready astronauts,
And signals beamed back to our globe revealed that 'moonquakes' are
given birth,
While the Moon slowly backs away from us an inch each year in
gravitational slots.

So now the Earth we may survey from the surface of the Moon.
And view the planet we call 'home' with its 40,000 kilometer circumference.
Which passes by at orbit speed of 100,000 kilometers per hour in tune
With all the equations set by God to make it an habitable recompense.

An Earth with air to breathe, and necessary water to sustain life.
A bluish star disk, so to speak, with reddish and greenish zones,
With whitish stretches of wisps, streaks, and spirals that contrive
Respective continents, oceans, and fluffy clouds like cones.

Old mother Earth, with living things of carbon-based and water molecules,
Organic living cells of micro-organisms with amino acids and proteins,
That grow and reproduce themselves when energized by fuels,
Make up "the living planet", this Earth of ours, and its Terrestrial scenes.

Back to the Sun we take our quest to understand its strength,
380,000 billion-billion kilowatts of radiant solar power,
The energy in one seconds time emitted here at length
Is greater than all mankind has consumed in all of histories hour.

A surface temperature in absolute, or Kelvin known degrees,
'Tis 5,750 degrees K, like a gigantic thermonuclear bomb,
With a diameter three times more than the distance one sees
From Earth to Moon, in measurement 1,392,000 kilometers long.

This fiery sphere of gaseous explosions transcends even our imagination,
A nucleus center is a colossal furnace 25 million degrees hot.
Surrounded by a radiative zone which transmits deadly radiation
And a photosphere opaque barrier surrounds the solar spot.

Beyond the convective granulation process lies the outer chromosphere,
With sunspots and flares of flashing light of great enormous flames,
And on to the silvery corona zone where clouds of pearly white appear,
A luminescent, zodiacal light, which solar system dust diffuses into games.

So now our Sun 'tis but a Star within the universe,
And there are thousands of millions of Stars just like our Solar Sun.
For every Star is but a Sun to carry out its course,
To accentuate light and heat and energy, and sustain life on the run.

Now to the congregation in the sky within the Solar Group,
We look to Planets, large and small as judged upon our scale,
The first, and nearest to the Sun, is Mercury which makes the loop
Around the Sun in orbit days of 59, the period of its rotation without fail.

With three rotations on its axis during two revolutions around the Sun,
Mercury slowly moves about with alternations, day to night.
At midday +350 degrees C, illuminated hot, quite 'well done'.
And the dark side hitting -170 degrees C, no atmosphere, the cold to blight.

The merciless rays of the nearby Sun have parched this Planet like the Moon.
Magnetic fields and helium gas provide no protective atmosphere,
And riddled craters, large and small, appear in sequential groups in tune
Like aligned escarpments, while cooling and contraction of the iron core adhere.

And Mercury, its orbit zone 36 million miles from the Sun,
With a diameter of 3,000miles to make it seem quite small
In comparison to other spheres, Celestial orbits on the run,
Is always viewed in the glare of the Sun, if 'tis seen at all.

The second Planet in our scope 'tis Venus, known as Earth's twin!
Closest neighbor, about same size and density, but deceptive to the truth:
For Venus fits the classic description of a 'Hell' with sin--
A place so hot that even 'the Devil' would cease to be uncouth.

A 12,106 kilometer planetary diameter with a solid matter crust,
Venus revolves backward around its own axis in 243 days.
And high velocity winds which rain down sulfuric acid dust
Are coupled with solar radiation which heats the ground with carbon dioxide
and infrared rays.


Thus Venus has 480 degrees C, or 900 degrees F, temperature to boot!
Enough to melt lead and glass on its mostly flat terrain,
Though craters do exist, and fluoro-sulphuric acid says we wouldn't give a hoot
About landing there, for thoughts to live on Venus would only be insane!

Now passing mother Earth again, beyond this orb of ours,
We travel off to Mars, the red Planet, known to all:
Of Martians, those "one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater', powers
That do not exist but in science fiction land, and tales of ours, so tall!

But Mars is a Planet smaller than the Earth, with a diameter 6,787 kilometers
deep.
It moves around in orbit 227,900 kilometers distance from the Sun.
Thus a year on Mars is 687 days long, and more than a 24 and one-half hour
day to keep.
With polar caps, craters, rocks, and Tharsis: an immense and high plateau on
which to run.

And four gigantic volcanoes, like Mons Olympus do exist,
26,000 meters high, 600 kilometers wide, three times bigger than Hawaii's
Mauna Loa!
And the so-called Valles Marineris canyons also do persist,
4,000 kilometers long, 120 kilometers wide, 6,000 meters deep, "Mama mia!"

And yet on Mars we also find in the southern hemisphere a great basin,
An enormous circular zone called "Hellas", 4,000 meters deep,
Possibly caused by a great meteorite, flat and without formation,
And connected therewith, great sandstorms and high winds, that form a dust
cloud left in a heap!

The atmosphere of Mars is of carbon dioxide too!
And white polar caps of carbonic acid ice condense and melt to move,
While the temperature remains somewhat colder than the dew,
At +15 degrees C midday summer, and -100 degrees C on a winter's night in
groove.

And finally two Moons exist, Phobos and Deimos, to orbit 'round old Mars,
One close in, and one at distance, to rise from opposite horizons,
And iron oxide on the surface, coupled with the dusty windbars,
Creates a red or pinkish sky around the red planet's contrivance.


And now a break we take from looking at the known and major Planets
To view the Asteroids, those micro-meteorites, or minor planetary orbs.
Within a belt-zone between the orbit of Mars, and Jupiter's transits,
They also orbit around the Sun in elliptical fashion like rocky blobs.

3,000 Asteroids have received definitive numbers of identification.
There may be as many as 22 million, but by name the largest ones
Are known as Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta: the brightest of the configuration,
While Icarus, Hidalgo, Apollo, Adonis, and Hermes come closest and furtherest
to the Earth for fun!

The Sun's family includes also those objects known as Comets,
Mountains of ice floating through space, and there are billions that exist,
They're water ice, dry ice, ammonia with dust and grit on it--
And they orbit the Sun from millions of miles away, and persist!

There's Halley's Comet passing by with a 76 year period.
The nucleus ice is surrounded by a cloud of known material.
Heat from the Sun vaporizes to produce an atmosphere "Coma" myriad.
The vapor material streams away in a long "Coma tail" that seems ethereal!

Spherical clouds of Comets, perhaps *one light year from the Sun
Begin their journey through Space, then cross the orbits of Saturn and Jupiter.
Solar radiation and solar wind push the Comet's tails outwards on the run,
A nucleus head 63,000 miles in diameter, may have a hydrogen cloud tail 31
million miles across the speedometer!

(*A light year = 6 trillion miles, or 9.5 trillion kilometers and is
the distance that light travels in one year at a speed of 186,000
miles per second, or 300,000 kilometers per second. Light travels
approximately seven times around the Earth in one second.)

A typical bright Comet will cross the Earth's orbit at an exceeding great high
speed,
And on the way lose 8 to 22 tons of material per second as it passes on its way!
Thus a Comet in flight may pass the Sun about a hundred times in need
Before it finally evaporates to be replaced by another on some distant day!


Now a third phenomena, besides the Asteroids and Comets, is known as
Meteoroids,
Like a 'falling star' it's a piece of a Comet that orbits 'round the Sun,
Gravel-sized particles that finally remain in the old Comet's path, filling in
the voids.
But if perchance they head towards a Planet it may be like a solar gun!

With a burned up fiery entry to the Planet's known atmosphere, day or night--
They become Meteors, known as 'shooting' or 'falling stars'.
A survival passage that lands on the ground is called a Meteorite,
While many Meteoroids appear as a Meteor shower when the Earth passes
through a Cometary orbit, like L.A. commuter cars!

Back to the Planets, Jupiter next is the one that's a giant in size.
It revolves around the Sun 778 million kilometers in distance away,
Making a complete revolution every 11 years, and 317 days we surmise,
With equatorial diameter of 142,800 kilometers, rotating 9 hours, 50 minutes,
and 30 seconds to make a day!

Jupiter's most famous observed configuration is the so-called 'red spot',
And bright and dark bands or belts parallel to the equator.
The red spot is three times the size of Earth and seems to float like a dot.
But landing on the Planet would pose problems, even for "Star Trek's"
Commander Data--

On Jupiter there is no ground, for it is a single ocean of liquid molecular
hydrogen.
'Tis 24,000 kilometers deep, at 11,000 degrees C on just the beginning layer.
Another 43,000 kilometers deep a liquid metallic state of atoms emitting heat
like the Sun,
And a core nucleus at 30,000 degrees C, one can tell it is hot and yet not be a
soothsayer!

This Planet's volume is one thousand times that of Earth, with sixteen known
moons.
And the great red spot is now known to be a huge vortex of cloud formations,
'Tis a hurricane swirling, much larger than Earth as it swoons.
And the night side of Jupiter has a ghostly aurora, with huge lightning storms
in gyrations.

The major satellite Moons of Jupiter are: Io, covered with active volcanoes,
And having a surface of molten sulfur which gives it bright yellow and
orange colors.
There's Europa, Callistro, and Ganymede, the other major Moons that pose
In some cases worlds in their own right, even larger than Mercury's planetary
umbrellas.

These planetary satellites, as all others, do not radiate light or heat,
And a Planet is the center of their revolutionary motion.
In the entire Solar System there are thirty-three satellites, and I repeat--
They may be as interesting as the Planets themselves, like "poetry in motion."


Saturn, the ringed Planet, revolves around the Sun at a 1,428 million kilometer
distance.
Its mass is over 94 times that of Earth, and orbits in 29 years, 167 days.
The equatorial diameter is 120,800 kilometers, and axial rotation of 10 hours
and 14 minutes insistance.
And is crossed by belts like Jupiter, while the rings are millions of tiny Moons
revolving in so many ways.

There are thousands of ringlets around old Saturn like the grooves on a
phonograph disk,
Called sheperding Moons, or also Moonlets, with dark and light streaks running
'cross.
Which are spokes to the rings radiating out from the Planet brisk,
And the rings largest width is at 276,000kilometers, and 11,000 kilometers
distance out from the planetary boss.

Near Saturn's equator huge thunderstorms rage 40,000 miles wide,
It encircles the Planet packing gusty winds 12,000 miles per hour.
Thick smog covers the Planet, which also has immense arches that divide
The landscape into various gradations of color, luminosity, transparency,
and reach up to the sky in great power.

The second largest satellite in the Solar System clan 'tis Saturn's Titan Moon.
Titan is known to have an atmosphere predominantly like Earth's nitrogen,
But you could not breathe even one breath at all , for no oxygen exists, not
even a spoon!
And abundantly there is a methane sea of liquid, and solid, and gas by the ton.

Uranus Planet is a gaseous one, like Jupiter in arrays,
With faint, green, horizontal stripes, and at least ten Moons, and 4.1 times
the diameter of Earth.
It is tipped on its axis, tilted more than any other Planet, to nearly completely
sideways!
As it rolls on its side, covered with a murky haze, surrounded by nine rings
since birth.

The solar revolution is 84 years and 7 days, at a mean distance of a 2,872
million kilometers run,
And a Uranus diameter of 51,000 kilometers, with the velocity of axial rotation
at 10 hours, and 49 minutes around.
But a peculiar feature is the polar axis, around which it rotates for fun,
Lies almost in the plane of its orbit, for something strange to abound:

Uranus alternately turns one pole towards the Sun for a very long period of
time,
While the opposite pole remains dark and cold to await its turn for the heat,
And like Jupiter and Saturn, the Planet Uranus, has no ground to turn on a
dime!
And the narrow dark rings are sharply defined, but in contest with Saturn's
they do not compete.

Uranus' Moons are a peculiar lot with different configured landscapes,
The outer most satellite Oberon has ice volcanoes on the surface to see,
While Ariel of 725 miles diameter contains branching, smooth valley floor
drapes,
And Miranda has huge 10 mile high cliffs, and rectangular fractured racetrack
like grooves and ridges to be.

Neptune is next, but not from the sea, it's the eigth Planet in our count,
With a 49,500 kilometer diameter it is slightly less than that of Uranus,
And at 2.8 billion miles from Earth it's hard to detect a great amount,
It was gravitationally detected before visually seen for its gravity was pulling
on Uranus.

The period of rotation seems to be 16 hours, determined spectroscopically,
With an atmosphere of 500 kilometers height extension beyond the surface mass,
Composed of methane, hydrogen, and helium, the surface must be far from
being tropically,
At -200 degrees C temperature, or less, and probably mostly gas.

Now Neptune has two peculiar Moons, the closest is Triton I'm told,
With a 3,000 mile diameter, it travels backward in orbit, different from
all solar orbs!
And tidal forces cause it slowly to spiral inward toward the Planet fold,
So eventually it will pull it apart, creating rings around Neptune, like an
editor from magazine Forbes!

The other Moon controlled by Neptune has been named Nereid by astronomer
man,
An elongated orbit brings it to within 800,000 miles of Neptune's dance,
Then it sails outward to a distance of 6 million miles, an eccentric orbit ban,
Which takes a year to complete, Oh what a feat, as around Neptune to continue
its prance!

And now to Pluto, the Mickey Mouse dog, Nay, the distant Planet unknown!
For many a year the astronomers cheer to find the mystery Planet of ice,
And in 1930 'twas finally discovered at 5,910 million kilometers distance from
the Sun's tone,
And Pluto's color is almost identical to the color of the Sun, Oh how nice!

Pluto reflects the Sun's light without altering its quality, thus it is white,
Most likely the Planet is covered about with immense stretches of ice and snow.
'Tis cold, and dark, an isolated place, good ground for the demons to fight,
As they wrestle about to heat up the place, and conjure up images of woe!

And notwithstanding small size, about that of Mars, Pluto retains a gaseous
envelope,
But due to its distance from the Sun the atmosphere is rapidly froze,
At -230 degrees C, a very low temperature, it may look like a radiant
cantaloupe!
That rotates perhaps six days, nine hours, and 20 minutes on its axis nose.

But Pluto itself is not alone, for once on a solar eclipse
It was found that even Pluto has a Moon, by the name of Charon given,
But a night black sky is strewn with bright Stars to view as hot chocolate one sips
While setting relaxed on the ice mound there overlooking the distant heavens!


Now let's take a break and surmise and peruse what we've done, the Solar
System clan to survey,
We have come so far from the Sun that it appears like a small point or dot
on the Celestial map.
A few billion miles out from the Sun, with Planets in circular orbit array,
But it seems as if we actually have never left the Earth as compared to
the Stars trap!

This enormous system which revolves around the Sun is the Solar System clan,
And the measured diameter across this array is 12,000 million kilometers wide,
And even the limits of this immense amount of space are inaccessible to
exploration by man,
Yet 'tis 8,000 times longer in distance, than to the edge of our clan, to
the nearest Star by our side.

But even to the edge of our own Solar System that we so limitedly know,
The Sun's presence in the sky is not sufficient to dispel the darkness of cosmic
night,
For even at Uranus in its orbitary plane our Sun is seen as a Star to glow,
And traversing this distance we soon realize night reigns every where out in
space, Oh what a sight!

And here on the Earth active lives of mankind are etched out in the light of day,
Yet this general phenomenon, of daylight in which to live, is quite rare in the
immensity of space.
For it only occurs on the surface of planets near the Sun with an atmospheric
array
Which diffuses the light of the Sun from its rays to give us such radiant grace!


'Tis night, but not darkness, that prevails, as we said, to the bounds of
the universe.
For as the Sun disappears from our terrestrial day, the starry night follows its
course,
And thousands of Suns are seen in array like Stars in a poet's verse,
As cosmic night reveals the truth concerning an expanding universe and all
of its powerful force!

And the cosmic night opens up the way to the firmament placed up above,
For a journey into space toward new Earths and new Suns, and the mystery
of the unknown,
To discover the Alpha and the Omega of all Creation, which began with
agape LOVE,
And to understand the meaning of our own existence, and to sit with God
on His throne.

Now leaving our Solar System far behind, we move on to the nearest Star,
Called Alpha Centauri, an astronomical name, to identify by configuration,
'Tis 100 million times the distance that separate Earth from Moon to reach
out just this far,
And at Space Shuttle speed now known to man, would take 500,000 years
to arrive on station!

But at speed of light, one second to the Moon from Earth, the voyage would
only be 4.3 years,
To Alpha Centauri, a Sun and a Star, the closest to our very own;
Yet in the world of Stars our motion thus far shows the heavens to similarly
appear,
For our space journey this distance is scarcely a perceptible step into the
unknown.

So now on to stellar evolution, or the birth of nova stars,
For there is stellar life and stellar death among the cosmic force,
And "nova", which means "new star" is a beginning, way off far,
But the life cycle of the stars is full of chapters in a course.

Stellar objects, there are many one can find now to observe,
Planetary nebulas, white dwarfs, and neutrons stars,
There are pulsars, supernova remnants, and black holes to curve,
Double stars, and multiples, and each is different from the par (s).

And we measure out the distance by the use of parallax,
Learning from surveyors how to cross the heavens fix,
As the Earth moves in its orbit 'round the Sun, while we relax,
One can angle: "shift of parallax of stars", one of astronomy's many tricks!

Thus to answer many questions 'bout those objects in the sky,
How far away? How hot? How bright? Or Just how big they are?
Perhaps to know what Stars are made of? How much matter in the dye?
Fundamental, basic questions of such things both near and far!

So let's travel first within us, using imaginations tool!
Off to Proxima Centauri, as we travel by the speed of thought,
As we arrive there in an instant we can not approach the fiery stool,
Thus we land on one of its planets, like the Earth--perhaps 'tis caught:

In an orbitrary travel 'round a Sun much like our own,
With a moon as its companion, and a solar planetary group,
As we look off to the distance towards Cassiopeia Constellation clone,
Where it adjoins the Constellation Perseus in a dance like "Betty Boop".

Thus we see a yellowStar there much like Rigel or Procyon,
Similar in brightness, but never, ever seen before:
'Tis our Sun, this new bright star as we greet the light of dawn,
From a distant globe in space which opens heavens door!

And the Sun which brings us daylight, 'tis not the Sun we call our own,
But rather Alpha Centauri on the horizon of a new and brighter day,
In surroundings perhaps somewhat different than our own Terrestrial drone,
But not so extraordinary as science fiction would have us thus portray.

For now we see that life eternal in the great expanse called Universe
Is made of populations from the species of the Gods,
There is man and there is woman to wrestle out "the Fall" and curse,
To be redeemed through consecration, or fall to lesser planetary pods.

For God Almighty in His discourse to the prophets long ago
Said: "Many worlds have I created, and many are destroyed."
But My work and also glory is to counter the opposition foe,
And bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man unalloyed.

In the limited scope and knowledge of man
We now turn our thoughts to the things that we see,
With telescopic vision, and like 'gold in a pan',
We can mine from 'the streambed of space', from A to Z.

Many Stars may appear "single" to the naked eye,
But seen through a telescope it may show that there's two,
A "double Star", or two Suns if you will, confide
That one moves around the other along 'the arc of ellipse', a clue--


That "double Stars" are not just a matter of perspective
Where juxtapositioning for distance holds sway,
But rather two Stars are connected to give
Shadows, and light, and varying colors to planetary array!

The first "double Star" discovered by man in his search
Is Mizar, the center handle of three Stars called "the Plough".
'Tis a "double Star" even to the naked eye on our perch,
An observatory which sees way beyond the clouds.

And the "double Star" phenomenon allows us to configure by math
Positional measurements, and absolute orbits of both Stars,
The ratio of the major semiaxes, and of the individual mass.
Thus man has succeeded to even weigh the Stars!

And the astronomers conclusion by all of this fix
Is an interesting idea of the situation to be---
Generally most Stars weigh about as much as our Sun as it ticks,
But some weigh ten times, and others one-tenth as much as she!

“Birth of a series”


One little bump
Itching to be scratched,
Ointment keeps it
Under control.

One little sprout
Stretching to the sun,
Cutting makes the
Roots dig deeper.

One jarring dream
Demands to be more,
Timing wrong for
Digging deeper.

One single month
Pouring out hope,
Scratch the itches,
Till the ground.

Dream becomes flesh,
Pulpy on the page,
Released it spins
Out of control.

Once cut back
Growth has thickened,
Sturdy people,
Rooted plot.

Once scratched raw
Infection spreads,
Plotlines bubble
Into possibility.

It hurts to grow,
So painful to step back and see
The flaws, shortcomings, mistakes.
Sometimes forgiving seems impossible
Then at other times choking out
“I’m sorry” is complete torture, but
Absolutely necessary for the soul.

Growth means change,
Going in directions unknown,
Allowing faith to be the guide
Instead of stumbling behind
Blind righteousness.

It does hurt to grow
But the reality is that without those
Pains life would never become
What it is meant to be,
The work of art hiding beneath
The layers of doubt and fear
Would never be known.

So with time, growth steadily wears
Away at the defenses, finally
Unveiling the beauty within,
Shining on what was inside all along.

Rite of Passage

She came to visit
on a plane,
She’s brave
beyond her age,
Her birthday gone
a week ago,
At seven
turned a page,

I asked her what
she’s wanting,
She said it’s
somewhat daunting,
She looked at me,
I looked at her,
Those eyes were
somewhat haunting,

“I want my ears pierced!”
Words spilled out a blur,
I said, “that’s cool,”
I’ll ask your mom
if it’s alright with her,
It was, we went,
Pink stones were picked,
She sat real still,
The guns were clicked,

“You’re done,” I cried,
Big deal I teased,
She beamed such wattage,
Her self so pleased.

Mission accomplished,
Carpedeum seized,
A big girl rite,
Her want appeased.

The honor was mine,
A gift so rare,
Granddaughters grow
Too fast, not fair,

She’ll never forget,
When her ears were notched,
A redheaded grandmother,
Championed, and watched.

Growing, growing, gone…

My friends all say it’s time to sell
This house is too big for one
My children - how can I ever tell
Them they’re going to lose their home.

It’s not like they’re still living here
They’ve all moved far away
And now I’m ill, the decision, I fear
To sell is going to stay.

Home from the hospital, each new born
Babe, was welcome in these rooms
And as they grew, each birthday morn
Was marked on a cabinet and as time zoomed

Along its wayward path, we could not stop
We lined each child against a bathroom cabinet
Standing tall, a book was placed on top
Of every head, and a mark carved for that years growthl

They checked to see who grew the most
In their teens the boys grew tall
Like their father, who used to boast
He was the tallest , 6foor 7 but all

The boys stretched and exercised
Their sister reached 5 ft. 11
All basketball players, the largest boy
Reached a record breaking 6foot 7.

Now they tell me how they need that door
With all their years of growth inscribed
The boys planned and planned some more
And this is what they tried

The hinges of the cabinet door
They removed and took it down
The oldest promised to restore
Thankfully a solution had been found.



‘

Growing Season

The secret to great wines, they say,
is in the growing of the grapes,
those green or purple orbs that
first crossed humans’ palates
centuries ago. Since then,
wines’ secrets have expanded,
just as grapevines’ roots stretch
ten feet or more beneath the soil.
Each year I savor something new,
knowing I’ll never grow tired
of what sunlight, soil and water
can produce for my eager tongue.

Yet everything depends on more:
the climate for those vines
can be as fickle as tomorrow’s
love. Let the season be its own
and hope your longing bears fruit.

November Poetry Challenge day 5 “Growth poem”

Grow Odd with me

The best is yet to be—
We can look forward to eating dinner
At 4:30, going to bed at 8, TiVoing everything
The rest of the world watches in the evening,
We can not answers questions we hear but
Don’t like, pretend we do not see sneers, or do,
Threaten to leave everyone out of the will
For any offense and leave everything to the SPCA.
We can wear anything we want—plaids and polka dots—
And we’ll drive like every day is Sunday and drive our kids
Batty with laser-quick visits when we spoil the grandkids,
And leave them flying on chocolate highs
While we fly home to peace and quiet.

Disenchantment

At first
It seemed
We were coming together
Naturally, rhythmically
Moving
Toward imperfect union

Dancing
Just the way
The stars and the planets
Slowly, gently
Undulate
Around the sun

But instead
It appears
We bump around
Clumsily, haphazardly
Not light on our feet
Without grace

The Last

I reach into the autumn air
expecting a chill, a run down my shoulders
like the prickling arm of my raspberry bushes
as I trim them back for the winter.

Instead there is a berry of warmth
in my belly, the last bloom turned into fruit,
a final attempt to assert the autumn
a bursting juice
in my throat.

Growth

I am five today, and I must say, the wall stands so tall.

I am ten today, and I must say, the wall stands so small.

I am fifteen today, and I must say, the wall, is hardly there at all.

I am twenty today, and I must say, there used to be a wall.

One of the best things in life
Is watching your child grow
From a newborn baby
To the beautiful young woman
She is today.
All of a sudden she's turned
into your friend,
one that you know
will be there at the end.
This beautiful person before you
was once that tiny helpless being.

Silver
(or the Art of Growing Old)

Dear Mama,
ran a comb through my hair this
morning, afront a bathroom mirror,
counting the strands of silver
against the nap, each stroke
bent on highlighting the years
with great pleasure for me,
thinking on yours and how
we may not be so different
afterall.

At birth,
everything has a unique scent
(or so you once said)
a new car,
a new baby,
first rain.
Before the silverware,
each wavy brunette strand
smelled of cottons & linens on a
clothesline under a turquoise sky,
and later in teen years that
daisy-chained after me,
you claimed my diva locks smoldered
like mink oil hair spray
under the carny lights
of my room.

Today,
well meaning friends
constantly offer to help
re-clairol my youth back,
but I already feel lucky enough
drinking from this genetic fountain
you and I share of chanel silver,
not pearly or brassy,
nor dull pigeon-gray
but rather vibrant and electric,
like fresh Christmas tinsel
against a widows peak of
long cocoa and copper tresses,
and think Mama, how
this reflection staring back
may not be so different
afterall.


© 2009 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

HIGH SCHOOL HEALTH HOMEWORK

He draws on foam board,
laying out in
diagrams and words
the miracle of life
Scientific terms
fill the blank white surface
with knowledge in color
the same way there was
nothing
and now there's
a child, my son,
miraculous still to me
To himself, too, I see,
as he points to the poster
where one sperm of multitudes
meets an egg,
and a heart
hovers above them
like a valentine
"I'm really special, Mom,
I beat the odds,"
he marvels,
and I couldn't agree more

Growth

I love plants. Mommy always grew them. Ferns. Diffenbachia.
Philodendron. My favorite was her African violet.

When I was in first grade
We were given kidney beans to plant.

Yes! My turn! When I got home,
my mother scooped out cupfuls of soil.

She gave me a small apricot-colored pot.
I poured in the soil and buried the bean.

And I waited. Sprouts emerged,
so I saturated them with water.

Again and again and again. One month later,
every kidney-shaped table was embellished by blooming plants,

except by my lonely seat.
Everything in moderation.

My man, how you have grown.

I made a pact when you came under threat
about loving you with I know not who.
Then you were born and I was born anew.

One day on the nursery run you said 'I love you'
Not your first nor no means your last words.
For you three words, for me infinite reward.

Once I carried you on my shoulders, there
for the world to see. Made it, I'm normal,
look at my grandson, look at me.
For you a fistful of receding hair,
for me, a new arrival.

A crushing blow
Mummy and daddy separated
At the ceremony I had wished and recorded
that they would stay together forever,
for you, for them, for us. No, no, for me!
Hurt, affraid, I could only focus through your eyes
but through your eyes I saw everything
clearer, sharper. Through your eyes
I saw inward and not just me, everyone,
all things, good, bad, fitting, at last, fitting.

There in that soul a love re-discovered,
an understanding and resolution,
energy from which reform could flow.

And only some sadness,
at an outwardly successful
but inwardly arid and unhappy life,
for what comes late comes stable, strong and fresh,
and what has gone, farewell,
has built what is.

Then, today, you brought me your blue sweatshirt
newly sewn with Beaver Badges by mum,
and, before I knew it, it was on
over your school uniform, you looked so big.
Dragging it off, you struggling and laughing,
we were nearly late, again.

And I waited and you turned
in the corridor, as I knew you would,
and waved. My man.

My man, how you have grown.

YOU Have Grown On Me


From your songs and your singing
YOU have grown on me.

From your smiles and your giggles
YOU have grown on me.

From your messages you wrote to me
YOU have grown on me.

From saying nothing and withdrawing
YOU have grown on me.

From thinking of me romantically
YOU have grown on me.

From filling my mind with joy
YOU have grown on me.

And ultimately we feel for real.
Feel what each other feels.

And we sense that we've grown up.
WE have grown on each other.


© November 2009 by Martin Anthony Dorn

Expansion, no Growth

My early body was sleek and slim,
With curves and bulges in all the right places,
With muscles and hinges that did what they should.
Not unpleasant to look at and easy to use.
Since those halcyon days of warmth and pleasance,
Dark clouds and colder winds have come.
My frame Is now draped in a thick cloak of lard.
The body bulges where it used to curve;
The body buckles where it use to bend.
It frightens children and is hard to control.
Inexorably time drags us though our presents,
Onward toward our inevitabilities,
Through both the physical and the spiritual worlds.
From the physical world we gather substance.
From the spiritual world we garner wisdom.
I fear that I’ve gathered more than I’ve garnered.

My precious baby girls
I once could hold you for hours
But squirmy toddlers are a
Battle I didn’t always have the strength for
In school I teased, that your heads were
The perfect height to be my arm rest
But now, on the brink of being young women
My baby comes up to my chin
And her sister will be taller than me
By time she is thirteen

Growth poem


Knowledge


Last year she spied a white bump
in the far back pasture.
Now, after the late rains,
a circle has sprung
around the very spot-
a fairy circle Mama said.
They'll dance tonight
inside the ring
and sit when they are tired
on soft white puffs.
She pictured spores,
spreading like fireworks
under the ground,
and wondered how long
they could expand-
interlocking rings-
before symmetry was lost
and randomness reigned.
Perhaps the wee ones,
free but orderly,
do not care for chaos.

Then all is Completely Lost

I write these words to paint a picture
A picture visiting in others thoughts
Others thoughts who daubs in my paint
In that single instant, my picture lost.

You, my good reader, find yourself
You stand in next to what I thought I meant.
Between us, we create poetry. Our time
Together could not be better spent.

But, some care not for what I say
They make no effort to meet my thoughts
They trade what I say with what they read
Then all is truly and completely lost.



In This Bit of Tree

A white, paper envelop, lies open on the desk
A thin remainder of a tree, it beckons to me.
It asks me to send or retrieve, to give or request.
I look inside wondering what remains in this bit of tree.


November 4, 2009

Growing Love

Young love is all consuming
With burning white hot passion
That excludes the world.

But as love grows and matures
Bits and pieces of the world
Creep in and passion wanes.

No longer white hot,
Still it burns in high flame.
With more consideration of each other.

As years swiftly pass by
Love settles into deeper devotion.
Though passion’s embers still blaze.

When love grows into maturity
It becomes secure and comfortable
The flame settles into a constant glow.

You are not only lovers
You are best friends
With common interests and shared lives.

Memories, good and bad,
Shared with true love
Deepen the bond of affection

That has grown over the years.

Growth


The Old Maple

I wonder how long it's stood.
It must be over a hundred years old
All the world has changed while it grew.
Think of the people who've seen it--
lovers comparing it to love's strength--
those who admired it, rested under it,
thankful for its shade--gone now.
It keeps growing. It speaks to me
with rustling leaves. The snow resting
on its branches writes some message .
in the air. It will be here when
I am forgotten. I will miss it
if I can miss anything of this world.

Day 5

Growth Poem

He was old when he was born.
Only his Guardians knew when his life would end.
He knew as well, but that knowledge was clouded
by survival on this plane.
His short life was difficult by anyones standards.
Was that part of the Grand Plan for his growth?
He was different by unfair standards that
were imposed around his special qualities.
He spent his lifetime searching for answers
to very difficult questions, alongside that
human need to fit in.
He didn’t find any of it here. Did that
further his growth?
His life was cut short.
His motorcycle slammed into a large truck.
His death was instant.
Was it all planned? Did he know? Does his growth continue?
It has to.
He was my little brother.

Percentiles

Stop one, the paediatrician’s
Where so much growth is charted
Extensively and it’s important
That baby be at least in the fifty
Percentile; weight, height
Even head circumference
As if he’s being measured for a crown

Stop two, the dress-maker’s
More measurements, grandma is
Is being fitted for a wedding dress
She’s marrying that silly fellow from
Italy after all but he has money, is
Insisting on a dress designed just for her
So, yes – she’ll suffer through having bust
Waist, hips taken, jotted down – for his sake

Last stop, the oncologist; the babe’s
Mother has found a lump, some time ago
Actually – this is an evaluation visit
One in which to review growth size
Where it fits in the range of such things
Prognostications, treatment options
There seems to be no end to matters
Of measurement or growth.

Uoguonele

From beneath the depths
Of dirt and decay
Lie asleep little one
Until the time is right
Awake! Awake!
Your time is here
Rise above
The starless night
Push through the burden
And reach for me
Awake little one, Awake.

Blast through the heftiness
That has sat on your shoulders
All the dark days gone
And sprout from your aphotic depression
To unfurl your blades
And drink your spirit
Awake little one, Awake.

Shake off your lurid load
Bare your naked form
So susceptible to the perilous ambiance
But ready to flourish and feed
Humankind's souls
And once you are done
To perish once more
To return to your inky grave
Where you will slumber again
'Till your time is nigh.

Awake little one, awake.

Awake little seedling

Awake.