Posted in Florette

Internal Revenue

What needs have I to worry on
when daylight brings to me the dawn
and sunset brings me time to rest?
Planned out ahead, my outline is already drawn.

My life itself is worth enough
to keep me strong and make me tough.
While out along my chosen path,
my steady feet will walk me through when things get rough.

Let no one dare to call me poor
for I have riches to explore
I haven’t fully counted yet
inside myself, without the need for banks offshore.

© Susan Schoeffield

Posted in Piaku

Life Goes On

Floating on
clouds
high above the
storm,
trouble doesn’t sway
my journey in search of tomorrow.

Sometimes,
the clouds on which I ride
hit turbulence but
at day’s end
I am still afloat.

Buoyed by family and friends,
I am never afraid of falling.
Surrounding myself with love,
I have the courage to follow my
destiny.

© Susan Schoeffield

Today’s daily poem is written as a Piaku, a form based on the mathematical constant Pi. For this piece, I’ve used the first 16 digits of Pi for each line’s syllable count.

Posted in Duo-rhyme

Appreciation

While taking a stroll in the night,
I smile at each day-ending sight.
To see all around me at peace
makes gratitude quickly increase.
The beauty I see doesn’t cease,
it needs but my nod to release.
I learn as the years left decrease,
my life isn’t owned, it’s a lease.
Each days brings a gift to invite
my thankfulness mixed with delight.

© Susan Schoeffield

Posted in Cadae

In Tune

I’m content
here
in my own song.
Each
stanza and chorus
harmonizes with the universe
where I’m
forever free to breathe
in all the music
around me.
This gift, of measured
rhythms and rhymes, resonates with
beauty in sunrises and sunsets
composing my melody.

© Susan Schoeffield

This is written in the mathematical poetry form called Cadae. In this poem, each line’s syllable count corresponds to the first fourteen digits of Pi (3-1-4-1-5-9-2-6-5-3-5-8-9-7). Since Pi is infinite, I suppose I could try writing The Never-Ending Poem … but not today.

Posted in Kyrielle Suzette

Inner Light

Into a chasm of deep regret,
candles illuminate goals I’ve met
with peace that comes to lighten my soul
where ambiguity took control.

Innocent wonder has now matured,
though pathways allowed remain obscured.
Doubt overwhelms and soon I forget
candles illuminate goals I’ve met.

Hunted and haunted, my fears engage.
Complacency harbors a silent rage.
Failure disguises success, and yet
candles illuminate goals I’ve met.

Into a chasm of deep regret,
candles illuminate goals I’ve met.

© Susan Schoeffield

Posted in Quatrain

Not-So-High Society

My crackers hold no caviar.
My glass holds no champagne.
My travels are more near than far.
I’m light in worldly gain.

I haven’t got designer clothes
or eighty-inch TVs
and sometimes being poor just blows
by infinite degrees.

But I have much in happiness
worth more than any buck.
Though what I have may not impress,
at least I’ve lots of pluck.

So keep your BMWs
and all the things you charge.
I cannot really sing the blues
when I am living large.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 12/17/14 prompt at Poetic Asides to write a “high” poem.

Posted in Cascade

Senior Moments

Muscles pull, knee joints pop.
Memories sometimes fade.
Age is a heartless thug.

Simple tasks, putting on
socks and shoes, pose a threat.
Muscles pull, knee joints pop.

I won’t go to the store
without a list because
memories sometimes fade.

Sixty the new forty?
Don’t believe what you read.
Age is a heartless thug.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 12/3/14 prompt at Poetic Asides to write a “difficulties” poem.

Posted in Senryu

A Smattering of Senryu

falling in love is
oftentimes more like plunging
down the rabbit hole.

*****

great ball of fire
golden slumbers burned to bits
blinded by the light

*****

your heart is hollow
love scooped out leaves empty shell
just like a pumpkin

*****

After Tuesday’s vote,
Congress justifies its pay.
If not, act surprised.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 10/29/14 prompt at Creative Bloomings “Inform Poets” to write a Senryu.

Posted in Quatrain

Outer Banks Bungle

It’s not like there wasn’t a way we could know.
The big yellow sign clearly said not to go.
“Take 4-wheel drives only beyond this spot.”
But you wouldn’t listen (believe it or not).
There on the dunes, our 2-wheel drive truck
stopped going forward because it got stuck.
Late in the day, there were not any rangers.
We hoped to rely on the kindness of strangers.
Sure enough, someone came lumbering by,
a big surfer dude with a gleam in his eye
from looking at what he assumed to be hicks
the first day they traveled outside of the sticks.
In no time at all, we were out of the sand
gushing out “thank you” and shaking his hand.
He smiled, said “No problem” and went on his way.
I guess we assumed that was all he would say.
But over his shoulder, he loudly decreed,
“I guess some folks just never learned how to read.”

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 7/23/14 prompt at Poetic Asides to write a poem about being in a tough spot.