Fiorella's Poetry

    

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      Why should I grow old and gray,

      The twilight at the close of day,

       The rose, full blown, that falls away

       To dew-damped grass, to there decay,

       Rather than the early morn 

       When the son is being born--

        Stay, O stay, eternal spring  

        And let me dance 'round the fairies' ring  

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        I don't drink beer

         I don't drink wine

         But ply me with chocolate

         And I am thine

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           The day was bright with sunshine

            The foliage gemmed with green  

            The grass was far too happy

            The sidewalk was too clean

            And I was filled with consciousness 

             Of what could not be seen   

                  A soul is racked with birth pains

                 Before the truth is born  

                  A sky is rent with heavy rains 

                  Before the dawn of more

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Whoops!

 Okay, you got me: I messed up some words, but I'll try to do better. Remember, your girl is working on her bed, which is somewhat bouncy.

Later.....

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Your girl is checking out her pill bottles, which she thinks have been tampered with by well-meaning relatives.  All Fio's past pill pages are lost and Fio has had to reconstruct them the best she could. Thank goodness Fiorella has a good memory!

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Some of SonL's friends, who ended up in Australia, visited and talked about old times, and Daughter and her husband joined in. Good times!

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GRRRRR.... Fio is still growling about her missing pills!

 

 

Hmm, what to write....

 MAY, 2008

EYELID LIFT!

Whoop-ti doo, a lots of fun!

I am getting my eyelids done!

The tests have shown most definitely

That I can't see what what I ought to see,

But lift my lids and I'll SEE great

And LOOK GOOD too..I just can't wait!

 

WENDY THE THE WEIMER SAVES THE WORLD AGAIN

Her nape is high, her lip is curled,

Her bark is loud and clear

As Wendy the Weimer saves the world

From flying bird and chittering squiral

And utterly unconcern-ed deer...

SOME EARLY POEMS, HOPE THEY WILL COME THROUGH!

       

            The mothers in my neighborhood

             Are skilled with stake and twine--

             To brace the wilting sapling straight

             And tie the erring vine...  

 

             The mothers in my neighborhood 

              Are skilled with shears and string--

              To prune the wayward leaning twig

               And nip the buds of spring 

          Reeling

                    I'm drunk on the wines of glory 

                     I'm red-nosed and noble and gay.....

                      So what if I die tomorrow

                     At least I have lived for today

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           EXCUSE FIO IF YOU'VE READ THIS BEFORE....

                        Immortality

            Do sliming snails dream of snail heaven?       

            Do cows believe in meadows in the sky?        

             Do signing apes imagine life hereafter?

             Are elephants aware they too will die?

           Do animals know more of depth than pain?

           Or was it prime to our ignoble flight 

            From ancient Eden's cursed and blessed tree.           

             That we alone know death and thus know life?

             

               MORE LATER!

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             WAR CRY!

              I can't march, but I can write

               And I can sing and my pen can bite

               Those those are my only weapons

                         In the time of fight

                To over come wrong

                          And uplift the right! 

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                      Have I read you this one?

                 I've drunk on the wine of glory

                 I'm red-nosed and wobbly and gay 

                 So what it I die tomorrow

                 At least I have lived for a day!

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                   My heart is like a little boat. 

                   That sails upon the sea,

                    Rocked by waves and ocean float,

                    Swamped by adversity. 

                    But still the staunchest little boat

                    That ever sailed the sea

                      SOME OF MY POEMS ARE GETTING LOST BECAUSE I'VE FORGOTTEN HOW                       TO GET TO THEM. HELP!

MOVING FORWARD BY MOVING BACKWARD

 Hey there, guess what! Your favorite (Fiorella hopes) correspondent is swinging to a new mood, and she'll be pulling some of her old favorites out for you to enjoy or no, like as follows:

          

            

            The Lightbringer

             Because they do not want

             To bother with the shades,

              My children squint and grope about 

              In the darkened house every morning,

              So every dawn

               I go to the windows

               And raise the shades myself

               To let the sun shine on their lives 

 

                Reeling

                I'm flying on winds of glory

                 I'm red-nosed and wobbly and gay

                 What if I die tomorrow?

                 At least I have lived for today!

                Immortality

                Do slimming snails dream of snail heaven?

                Do cows believe in meadows in the sky?

                Do designing apes imagine life hereafter?

                Do elephants aware they too will die?

               Do animals know of death than pain?

               Do animals know more of death than pain?

               Or was it prime in our ignoble flight

               From ancient Eden's cursed and blessed tree,

              That we alone know death and thus know life?

''

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Moving Toward Normal, What Ever That Is!

Your girl had been worrying about the loss of her very important "pink pill," but SonL took her out to the doctor and all is well....at least till Fio loses it again. In the meantime, she's gotten to page 36 in her World Search Puzzle Book. WHAHOO!

Hey, someone next door to us is sending off rockets! Another WHAHOO! 

Fio MUST get to work on her salon," where she used to work a lot more than she does now. She also plans to start working on her clothes closet, which is a total mess. (Want to join her?)

Your girl promises poetry tomorrow, some old, some new.......

Up to Date....so to say

We joined the adults handing out the goodies to the kids, nobody fell of a cliff, and Fiorella was treated very warmly. But this morning, your girl was VERY TIRED.  Don't lift your eyebrows, Fio rarely drinks and this wasn't one of them.

What can Fiorella do in this new year? AND HOW CAN SHE WIN HERSELF A FRIEND? It used to be so easy......when she was younger and could drive, when she had a good Lutheran church around the corner.

Switch topic: Fiorella cannot  continue to wail on the wall of yesterday. Maybe your girl should look at everything she has stacked in her shadows, and this time, USE IT!