65.

The hamster died today.
She was turning awfully gray.
So now there's a choice
and I hear a small voice
saying get another and whisk it away.

64.

Thanksgiving Day 2009,
Polly's on all fours.
It won't be long until that babe
is crawling out the door.

She's rocking back and forth
with her belly off the ground.
But til she's up and crawling
she likes to roll around.

The blanket laid down on the floor
doesn't hold her in.
She rolls on past that invisible line
and looks at us and grins.

That little ball of squirminess
is gonna make us run.
And catching her is gonna be
like catching rays of sun.

63.

My knight in shining armor
takes her armor off at night.
Who knew that he would be
a she. Some say it isn't right.

But love is blind, or so they say,
and that's my attitude.
Until they change their minds and laws,
we'll stand with fortitude.

62.

If you'd asked a year ago,
I'd have said it's very true:
That families can be broken,
the core split right in two.

But living means that people grow
and families can move on.
For healing does begin anew
with every breaking dawn.

61.

So how is this thing going?

This writing a poem every day?

I've found that sometimes I struggle

or that I don't have that much to say.

The hardest part is putting them up,

even when they're not my "best."

But I said that I would write them down,

not that they'd pass an editor's test.

60.

I miss my girls when I'm not at home
and they're cuddled up at night.

And then one calls and says to me,

"Can't you tuck me in real tight?"

But I once read my hardest job

is to build up their self-worth.

Them: Mama leaves but then comes home?

I'm the greatest kid on Earth.

59.

Mask drops for a split-second.
Does someone see: Vulnerability,
Insecurity. Not different you
and I, but one holds too-tightly
the masquerade.

58.

I just ran a mile and a half.

In the middle, got a cramp in my calf.

I wanted to slow,

but my friend she said, "No."

So I finished and pride I still have.

57.

It's time to change my shirt.

It certainly wouldn't hurt.

With snot like glue

and maybe poo,

this one smells like dirt.

56.

Where's that Magic Eight Ball

when the future seems unclear?
And where's the instruction manual

for the problems I have here?

Who knows all the answers

to these questions that I ask?

And where's the inner wisdom

I so need to meet the task?

But living's an adventure

when paths are hidden still.

And onward forging blindly

is a testament of will.

55.

Air bubble trapped expands narrow passages,

wreaks havoc on surrounding nerves,

sending screaming commands to overlaying muscles:

Contract. Release. Contract. Release.

Until, roaring through, the noxious stimulus

erupts in a most-satisfying BRAAAP!

54.

Mom, my teacher's prejudiced.

I thought that you should know.

If you go to school with me,

you'll see that it is so.

You know my friend who's Gabrielle,

the new boy in my school?

I told you 'bout him yesterday.

I think he's kinda cool.

My teacher isn't very nice

when Gabe is clownin' round,

Because he yells out real loud:

"Enough, now, Mr. Brown!"

53.

There once was a girl named Polly,

who was as cute as a porcelain dolly.

When she would giggle and play

it would brighten your day,

leaving you happy and feeling so jolly!

52.

Phoebe's up at 4 a .m.

with no sleep in our sight.

She's laughing, talking, playing too,

in the middle of the night.

She's gonna wake her sisters up

with all her carrying on.

So here I'm shushing, rocking too

in the early hours of dawn.

51.

My baby sisters poked my eye,

pulled my hair and made me cry.

Mama says that they don't know

that doing that just hurts me so.

Now I'm learning to be brave

'cause they don't know how to behave.

50.

"Mama share your printzles, please?

I love them for a snack.

And won't you pet my puppy dog?

His furb is soft and black.

"The seed is big and huge and blue

and mermaids swim in it.

And when we go down to the beach

it's on the sand we'll sit.

"I saw a Freak-in-stine today.

It's almost Halloween.

We'll dress up in our costumes soon

and 'tend that we're the Queen."

I know she doesn't say them right,

the words I hear her use.

But how can I correct her when

that cuteness I would lose?

48.

Won't you stop that cutting-up,
before you wake your sisters up?
I know you're whispering, I see!
But out this room you need to be!
Don't you make them wake and cry.
Please tip-toe gently. Do try.
And if they open one little peep
it doesn't mean they're up for keeps.
So don't lean over and say hello,
or off to bed you, too, will go!

49.
All they do is tell me shush;
and then they yell out, "Hush, hush, hush!"
My baby sisters need their naps,
but how much longer can that last?
I walk by and see their eyes,
and then they open up, surprise!
So, stopping then, to lean so low,
I just want to say hello.
Cause anyone can plainly see
that naps ain't fun as playin' with me.

47.

Overwhelmed by stress today,
Mama wants to run and play.
Someone hold me on their lap,
and tuck me in before my nap.
But been there, done that, as they say,
and now it's time to live each day,
protecting them, where I belong,
so they will grow up big and strong.

46.

Oh my goodness, I'm so tired,
and the kids are good and wired.
I'd like to go and lay my head
up on my pillows in my bed.
But little girls are so awake
I'm not sure that they will take
a nap!

45.

We're gonna butt heads, she and I,
if we don't soon see eye to eye.
She is three, I'm thirty-five,
but she rules the roost, is Queen of the Hive.
The parenting books say take deep breaths
but her stubbornness is out of my depths.
But then she smiles and says to me,
"I love you Mama. You're my favorite, see."
Together we'll journey across each mile
and be thankful the teen years aren't for awhile.

44.

Holding sleeping Polly,
Nuk still in her mouth,
the wailing cries are muted,
those ones heard way down South.

And even though we cringe in fear
when first she starts to fuss,
we take her in our loving arms
and fight the urge to cuss.

43.

Not feeling creative or funny tonight.
The words aren't coming or sounding just right.
The weight of the world is spinning inside.
I want to bury myself under covers and hide.
So hold all my calls, my texts and IMs.
I'll be up in my room with some plain M&Ms.

42.

Dementia robs people of clear-thinking heads,
leaving shells of the person and violence instead.
Care-givers continue to love whom they knew,
but when is enough that it's time to be through?
And does mourning begin for the loved one so dear,
when the relationship changes into one to be feared?
The answers aren't clear when these questions arise
and God help us all when we're living those lives.

41.

There once was a Phoebe Elise
whose smiles would always increase.
She hugged 'round your neck
and your cheek she would peck,
bringing everyone gladness and peace.

40.

One, standing alone, feels a tremor,
that sure sign the sky is falling,
so, rushes to alert his
neighbors, excitable gents. One tells
another, three overhear, five demand
action, until all, wanting the honor
of breaking the news, make a mad-dash
to Central, causing a ripple-effect of
flailing limbs. Exhausted, all collapse,
waiting for the Watch-Tower-call: All is Well!

39.

Where, O, where did my baby girl go?
O, where, O, where can she be?
I've searched up and down and all through the house,
but it's only her pictures I see.

There is a girl here who answers her name,
but she's way too big to be she.
Although her blond hair and sparkling blue
eyes make me think that it really may be

That once where my baby with dimpled arms sat
and a smiling, laughing cute face
sits a darling big girl with a laugh in her voice
and that smile in the very same place.

But Mama's not ready to let her grow up,
and Time won't let us stay here.
So I'll remember each moment she gives to me now,
holding each to my heart, very dear.

38.

Barren, once fruitful, arms reach
toward Heaven, praying scattered
children find lush havens in
fertile Mother Earth.

37.

Are you writin' another poem, Mama?
I like it when you do.
You write about my sisters,
and me and Mommy, too.

Can you read them over and over, Mama?
I never get tired of it.
I promise I'll listen quietly
if on your lap I sit.

Will you always write them down, Mama,
the poems, every day?
And could you please just write one now,
before I run out to play?

36.

I get to go out (I can't wait!),
with my beautiful, wonderful mate.
We're gonna take bets
to see who more frets
over leaving the girls for this date.

35.

I haven't had time to write.
I've been working every night.
And time slips away
when there's no time to play,
but I know what I'm doin' is right.

34.

There once was a girl named Paige,
who always looked tall for her age.
All her clothes she outgrew,
so quickly gone through,
and no stopping could anyone gauge.

33.

Decisions are tough
when words aren't enough,
because little hearts bleed
when it's loving they need.

32.

My little girl dressed fancy in her very first play.
And then she acted fancy, as she trounced around today.

Those fancy braids, her hair just so;
It couldn't be plain, "Oh, no, no, no."

She danced in step, decked to the nines.
She knew each one, her fancy lines.

She made us proud up on that stage,
My fabulous, stupendous, darling Fancy Paige.

31.

Welcome little baby boy.
Your birth day gave us so much joy.
Nine long months since you were due.
Your Mama loves you, Daddy too.
Snuggle in your family's arms.
You'll always be so safe and warm.
No matter where your life may roam,
their love will guide you safely home.

30.

I'm tired of washing my hands.
I don't care where the germs may land.
Ok, so I'm lying,
but the water's so drying,
and they're burning so much I can't stand (it).

29.

There once was a boy named Dan,
who ate all his food from a can.
"Dear me, dear me,
there's no more Chef Boyardee.
I'll guess I'll settle for Spam."

28.

I've half a mind to speak the truth,
no matter what may fall.
But words can hurt and every truth
is not the same for all.

I'd like to think that honesty
will lead us to the light,
but till we all can live in truth
we stumble through the night.

And searching souls and baring hearts
is oftentimes so slow,
But silence heard in honesty
is louder than we know.

27.

When the policeman pulls you over,
it's never good to cry.
Just sit there so politely
and look him in the eye.

Start by saying, "Sorry,
I know I blew that light."
or "I'm sure that I was speeding;
I hate to drive at night."

And when that ticket's written,
don't fret or come unglued.
Just pay the pricey ticket
and know your insurance will go up too.

26.

Five poems behind. My meter's in a rut.
I've got to break this rhyming scheme
before I'm called a nut.

The words are there, the subjects, too,
but sounding all the same.
And metaphors and cadence are big players in this game.

But pushing on to achieve my goal
means taking shortcuts, too.
And with 340 left, I'm sure I'll bore a few.

25.

Three little ones, five mouths to feed
in this economy,
means working hard to make ends meet
for those, our family.

Life throws its curves, its obstacles,
each harder than the last.
But lessons learned along the way
bring knowledge from the past.

And being strong for each of us
is all that we can do.
And holding on to what we love
will surely get us through.

24.

It's hard to be three
with two little sisses,
because they pull hair
even though they give kisses.

Too little to help much
or go out to play,
too big to be held
at the start of each day.

From being just one
to now one of three
makes being the oldest
the hardest, you see.

But Mama and Mommy's
loving arms hold,
no matter how little,
how big or how old.

23.

Polly's getting her first tooth.
I swear to you, I speak the truth.

It's poking through, just out today.
No wonder she won't eat or play.

She's gnawing, drooling, biting too.
She has to get that toofer through.

Sleepless nights and cranky days
have been the price she has to pay.

She'll work that tooth with little tongue
and a pearly white she'll have 'fore long.

22.

Slobbery kisses on my cheek.
Older one plays hide and seek.

Pudgy hands grab both my lips.
Got each settled on my hips.

Sister plays her little games.
They're starting now to know their names.

Bubble-blowing they can do,
smiling, giggling, sitting, too.

I can't believe five months flew by,
I think I must've blinked an eye.

Three little girls are growing fast.
We've got to make these moments last.

21.

Anger is the driving force
to make a situation worse.
Step back to see the path it brings
before you say those angry things.

It doesn't matter who is right,
if all you do is fuss and fight.
The time it takes to make amends
is worth the effort in the end.

20.

Heavy-fringed curtain falls,
covering sand-encrusted orbs.

19.

Heartbeats, translated
into electronic beeps,
march quickly, then race.
Pausing, fatigued, abrupt halt,
until, surging through vessels, a
liquid Grand Marshal salutes,
commanding order from
Deadly Chaos.

18.

The baby peed on my hand.
I really can't understand
why she has to let it go
as soon as Mama tells her, "No..."

I've got the clean one just right here.
Can't you wait Miss Phoebe, dear?
I know the cold air hits just right
and makes it hard to hold on tight.

I thought those special little joys
could only come from little boys.
But Mama's learned to move real fast
'til Phoebe's covered up at last.

17.

It's the end of the day and all three are asleep.
We're all alone and neither's uttered a peep.

Too many distractions throughout the day
leave too much to be said to recap in some way.

We're tired, we're worn out. There isn't much else.
We have to recharge and take time for ourselves.

Sometimes I miss them, the good olden days.
Where nothing much mattered; we had time to play.

But our loving and planning have placed us right here.
At the end of the day, so far yet so near.

16.

Phoebe doesn't like the bink.
She chews her hands until they're pink.

Polly loves her little Nuk.
She cries until she gets to suck.

But they both love their sister Paige.
I think that three's their favorite age.

They stop their fussing, crying too,
when she first steps into their view.

On not much yet do they agree,
but loving her it's plain to see.

15.

My wife went on a run.
She says it's so much fun;
she says she wants to get in shape.
I think she runs just to escape!

14.

Baby screaming in the car.
How much longer? Is it far?
Doctor says she's motion-sick.
Dramamine won't do the trick.

She cries until her eyes are red.
She won't rest her little head.
Our nerves are frazzled you can see
from crying babies one, two, three.

For when one cries it triggers two
and what are moms supposed to do?
When baby girl can't settle down
for trips across this little town.

Our families please must understand
that we can't travel 'cross the land.
Until poor Polly handles miles,
we won't be driving for a while!

13.

I can't be honest and say
that I've written a poem every day,
but starting my day at night
means the timing just isn't right.

And waking when the day hasn't changed
leaves me plenty of time to arrange
those thoughts within my head and heart,
until realizing with a start,

That today isn't the day that I thought
and try as hard as I ought,
this nocturnal shift is creating a rift
so I'd better catch up, and swift!

12.

I want it. I need it. I will use it someday.
If it's broke, I don't care. I will fix it one day.

It was gifted. I bought it. I found it today.
I will keep it in a box way out of the way.

So the stockpile grows because I want it to stay.
I have all my stuff, I am so proud to say.

But it grows and it grows and it blocks all my chi.
And my karma grows stale for it wants to be free.

So I purge it and toss it and give it away.
And I learn to let go of the things in my way.

11.

A poem I forgot to write.
So here it is.
And, now, goodnight!

10.

Spirit, spirit in the night,
please go straight into the light.
When you hear that you are dead,
don't just linger near that bed.
Ghosts aren't meant to stick around
haunting souls here on the ground.
Float on up to meet your friends
for your journey's at its end.

9.

Electricity crackles, surges through
rubber and metal, those portals
for travelling electrons: lightning born
with one swift CRACK!

Created now, leaps from source to skin,
skin to earth, forever searching,
leaving darkness to become chaos
in its wake.

8.

Coughing, coughing, all the time.
Can't stop long to make this rhyme.

Sneezing, sneezing, what to do?
Gotta earn the money but I got the flu.

Sweating, sweating, then the chills.
How am I going to pay these bills?

Fretting, fretting, have to whine.
Whose to blame? Those damn swine!

7.

You can leave now, Mama,
and close the door.
I'm a big girl, Mama,
my feet touch the floor.
You can leave now, Mama,
and shut it tight.
I've got things to do
and I'm all right.
You can leave now, Mama,
but before you do,
Remember, Mama, I love you.

6.

Writing poetry is hard
with children playing in the yard.
Don't know if I'll have time
to write more than merely rhyme.
For rhyme is easier to do
than expressing through and through
and bringing feelings forth
to contemplate their worth.

5.

There once was a poet who said,
"I really must get to bed."
But no poem I've written,
so here I'll keep sittin'
before I can lay down my head.

4.

It's twins! It's twins!
They say we're having twins!
I can't believe two eggs released.
Three girls and now The End!

3.

Too sick to write.
Too tired to fight
this thing they call the Flu.

2.

Tiny fingers grasp, find air, then hair.
Little hands hold on tight
those transient things, then phantom things.
Fleeting moments; borrowed time.

1.

Kids are crying

Fingers flying

Trying to get this poem done.

Time is moving

Writing's losing

Challenge on: and kids have won.