Friday, September 16, 2011

Finding inspiration in ordinary places

I love to get up early while everyone's still asleep, slip downstairs and enjoy my first cup of coffee. The house is quiet and the silence allows my thoughts time to wake up and wonder what the day might bring, things that I need to do and in general, a few moments to pray the day is a good one.
Gazing out the window my thoughts follow and before long my sleeping muse is painting the landscape with poetry.

The wild flowers on the hillside became this:

Brown-eyed Susan, how she sways
To the soundless rhymn the breeze does play.
Rooted all day upon the hill
She dances around, never still.

Her sweet smelling nectar
Beckons thee,
Visit from the Honey Bee.

Who comes without a vial or glass
And steals the sweetness from the lass.

The colorful yellow flowers are forever etched in my thoughts and captured on paper.

And here's another one. Warning, I have many poems like these because nothing inspires me like nature and its unique beauty at every turn.

I saw a Sparrow hopping
Upon my window pane
And when he saw me watching
He flew away again.

I wonder if he knew
That I feel like him.
Standing on the outside
Always looking in.


Last one, promise.


There once was a girl who loved Noodles.
She ate them alot, Oodles and oodles.
She ate them with butter, she ate them with cheese.
She ate then where ever, when ever she pleased.

All other food, either boiled or fried, Noodle refused,
Then she cried and she cried.

Father would plead and Mother would beg, but Noodle stood firmly
and shook her small head.

And so they gave into her childish wish
And served up another steaming hot dish.

Grandmother came to stay for awhile,
"I'm cooking now," she said with a smile.

With each dish she served came a story as well
And no more exciting than Grandma can tell.

She told about Gramps and his Army troop
With nothing to eat except for stone soup.

"He had to eat crow," Grandma was saying.
Noodle looked down where her chicken was laying.

When Grandma was finished, Noodle was too.
She wiped off her mouth and said she was through.
"Grandmother dear, you're the wisest and best.
Tomorrow at breakfast, please tell me the rest."

Mother and Father sat back with a smile
Thankful that Grandma could stay for awhile.

Given the chance, I could sit for hours beneath a shady tree or preferrably take a slow walk down our lovely country road, dragging along a stick and stir up all kinds of inspiration. So...what inspires you?


  1. Hey Tere, I've tried to post a couple of times, but had some trouble. Think I have it figured out. I wanted to comment that I loved your post, and your poems are beautiful. Just reading your words made me feel at peace and relaxed. You have a wonderful voice. Love our blog and hope to read more of your wonderful work!

  2. Hi Christine!
    I'm so glad you stopped by and didn't give up because you say the nicest things! Thank you! I used to write alot of poems. Not so many now, most of them are committed to memory and sometime I forget exactly how they went. LOL. At times I can't post either and it gets really frustrating be redirected. : )



Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts. You're awesome!