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Ms. Longstocking My name is Pippi. I can lift my horse. Since I'm so strong, you should not mess with me, Lest you discover what they call girl force: One flip from me can land you up a tree! No grown-ups ever tell me what to do. Gold coins maintain my lifestyle parent-free, So I can wear old tattered clothes. Though you Tut-tut and frown, you do not mess with me! One time a lady mocked my freckled face: Child, you are covered! You need salve from me! Kind lady, I replied, it's no disgrace: I love my freckles. Please don't mess with me! ... Nine years of age is all I'll ever be. Grown people, though, know not to mess with me! (First published on February 28, 2021 in the Creativity Webzine) |
Days In The Month December's 31-day count is shared Along with March, October and July. Yet these months with a further three are paired, Since January's count is just as high— Identical to May and August's sum. November and September are akin To April and to June, since when they come, Have we but 30 mornings to see in. Exceptional is February's score: Most often 28, that's one too few On years that are divisible by 4, Not counting those 100 goes into Though not 400 ... Now, have I made clear How many days fill months in any year? (First published on April 25, 2021 in Grand Little Things) |
A Fresh Pot of Tea A symphony is what my sonnet brings: Fresh tea's melodic journey through the pot! Rinse out your teapot when your kettle sings— Ensure your water's boiling, not just hot! So, having warmed your pot, add loose-leaf tea. Heap one spoon for each person, plus one more. Put on the kettle once again—that's key. Once boiled, your water sings to make you pour. The tea, with lid and cosy, now must brew Or it will be too weak to make the grade For tasty tea. But do not let it stew! ... That's all to how tea's symphony is played, Except one final note to grace the score: A strainer is essential when you pour! (First published on June 30, 2021 in the Creativity Webzine) |
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Go By Shanks' Pony! Great wonders of the wild, from planes up high Or high-speed trains, are merely glimpsed, no more. Below, or far away, they just flash by. You need a slower ride to build rapport! Sumatran jungle is a blotch of green High up. In tunnels, Alpine wildlife's black. Above the Arctic, only white is seen. New York is grey, seen from the railroad track. Kaleidoscopic views escape at speed. Should you seek nature's wonder, you must slow: Pedestrians have all the speed you need On jungle walks or Alpine trails to go. No train or plane brings nature close to you: You need Shanks' pony—only it will do! (First published in Current Conservation on August 3, 2021 with illustrations by Pooja Kumar) |
Our Day Will Come Our day will come, if only years from now: United, we are destined to prevail— Released from toil behind the mule-drawn plough, Discharged from bondage to the cotton bale. A day will come when we are truly free. Yet till that long-awaited day arrives, We labor in de facto slavery— Imagining our liberated lives ... Long years of subjugation nullified Lincolnian pronouncements made in vain: Crow's Law saw all our freedom brushed aside, Our loss in dignity made landlord's gain ... May we yet see oppression swept away? Emancipation will arrive that day! (Prompted by Earle Richardson's Employment of African-Americans in Agriculture and first published in the Ekphrastic Review on March 12, 2021 as a Challenge Response) |
Down In The Dumps Dispirited, says Oxford's lexicon, Once meant you had no spirit—none at all, Which meant you'd have no will to soldier on, No means to fight what hardships might befall ... If you're dispirited, your spirit's low, Not gone: it's poised to rally from defeat. That's why the OED, so apropos, Has called its older meaning obsolete ... Exactly what, though, is your spirit thing— Deep faith, agnostic will, survivor genes, Undying hope that winter turns to spring? Must we agree on what your spirit means? Perhaps, if not, then spirit's best defined, Succinctly, as what most uplifts your mind! (First published in the Spring 2021 issue of WestWard Quarterly) |