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Poetry

Poetry is a lifelong delight for me.

I have written poems forever–silly poems, sad poems, prose brimming with sorrow, joy, confusion, and calm. Writing poetry for children is more of a challenge than the “off the cuff” verse I’ve penned in the past.

I hope to refine and produce some rhyme that works for children, and delights them lifelong as well.

Be watching here for developments, like this verse, revised from long ago in my collection...and if you want more, let me know with a comment.

 

Bent Whisker

When a cat has a whisker that’s bent

      you wonder just where his paws went.

What secret or clandestine place

      lured in his inquisitive face?

What tempting faint curiosity

      invited him to ‘come look and see?’

You wonder just where a cat went

      when he comes home with a whisker that’s bent.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. April 25, 2012 10:33 am

    Marie and Walt, at Poetic Bloomings, had a prompt this week about beginnings and endings…use the last line of a previously written poem, to begin a new one. Here’s the origin of my contribution for the prompt, written quite a few years ago while I was sitting, uh…in the bathroom, watching my cat. To see the resulting poem, and those of other contributing poets, visit http://poeticbloomings.com , and look for Prompt #52.

    Cat Dreaming

    He looks to me with pleading eyes
    then to the window’s sill,
    where there a lowered blind obscures
    his curious catlike will.

    He looks again to me to ask
    if I will raise the blind
    to partially permit a view
    to where his dreams unwind.

    I pull, he leaps, he sits and stares
    at his imagined heaven.
    The things he’s seen beyond the pane
    have many soft purrs driven.

    My heaven, too, lies just outside
    a glass that’s often shrouded
    But glimpses of eternal skies
    have kept my faith unclouded.

    (c) 2008 Damon Dean

  2. July 2, 2012 9:43 pm

    Beautiful!

  3. October 16, 2013 10:11 pm

    Another random pick…
    ———————————

    Acrobump
    In a nightgown pink and red
        an acrobat
               stands on my bed.
    “Watch me Poppi!” is her plea.
        She tumbles over
                on one knee.
    “Watch me Poppi, look and see!”
       Tumble number
                two and three.
    “Watch this now! Look at me!”
        She flips so
                fast and fearlessly.
    And then as I
                look on with dread
        she tumbles off and bumps her head.
    
    (c) 2012 Damon Dean 
  4. March 24, 2014 6:41 pm

    I think you are a pretty stinking awesome poet, children’s poetry especially.

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