Tuesday, February 16, 2016

To the Most Important Man in my Life

That same old thing
that has become routine,
please don't mistake for boring.
For something perfect
can't be fixed and changed,
or it may become, to us, estranged.
I'm addicted.
I like predicted.
Routine is good.
withdrawal sets in.
I fall apart.
It is the stitching
that holds together
my broken heart.

So, will you be my valentine
for the twenty-seventh time
in a row?
I don't know
how to express,
this I must confess,
so I stick to the routine,
the same old thing,
I'm not boring
to the most important man in my life.
I feel lucky to be your wife.

Happy Valentine's Day

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Thursday, February 11, 2016

The Dragon and the Ballerina

So...I'm participating in an online writing workshop, and one of the days was telling us that we need experience, observation, and imagination, and to write a short-short story.

Imagination is what I need to work on, so I asked Ava, “What should I write a story about.” She said, “A dragon and a ballerina, but make sure the ballerina was flying on a dragon.” Then she got involved in watching Dora and left the rest to me.

The dragon laid down,
curled his tail around to his side,
so Princess Ava could climb up on his back to ride.

Draco, the night guardian of the sky,
had been watching over the castle for centuries,
ambivalent about people,
his goal was only to keep the peace.
The bangs and crashes of their fighting
disturbed his daytime sleep.
After being alert all night,
into the depths of the castle
where it was quiet and dark,
he would creep.

Little Princess Ava,
having just learned to twirl,
practiced her pirouettes everywhere,
and as she danced she sang.
Today, she bumped into a statue in the hall,
abruptly stopping her.
She noticed a door nob
that she had never seen before.
Squeezing behind the statue,
she turned the nob.
With the latch released,
a once invisible door
opened into a dark hall.
Not afraid, but curious,
she squeezed back out from behind the statue,
and skipped and twirled her way
up to her room to get a flashlight.
On the way she sang
about the invisible door
and the wonderful and pretty things
she might find inside.

Flashlight in hand,
she started down the hall.
It's walls were filled with paintings
of a world she had not seen yet,
as the four year old princess
living in a castle
on top of a mountain in Greenland.
Trompe l'oeil trees up to the ceiling,
green grass covered in brightly colored flowers,
birds, and squirrels,
she found a new wonderland to explore.
As she turned the corner,
she ended up with her little face
to a great big strange face.
She stopped singing.

Draco spoke, in his calm deep voice,
Don't stop making that noise.”
What noise?” posed the princess, “I was just singing.”
The singing. Please continue.”

That's how they met and became best friends,
a little princess, and the great Draco.
He loved to listen to her sing.
As she danced around the castle,
her sweet little voice would lull him to sleep
while he laid in the dark tunnels underneath. 

by:  Paula D. Nevison 

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

The Man in the Moon

My daughter cannot see the man in the moon.
This is difficult for me to understand.
He's always been such a good friend.
Maybe she's too smart for her own good.
She sees the craters and the mountains for what they are.
The shadows do not speak to her.
Yet art is who she is. It oozes from her being.
She doodles intricate pictures on everything,
including her friends,
their binders, and their hands.
She is an extremely talented artist,
especially good at drawing faces.
Which is why I do not comprehend
how my daughter cannot see my friend.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Fish into Chicken

Ava and I
were watching TV.
They were catching fish.
She said to me,
If I catch a fish,
and like, peel the skin off,
and take the bones out.
Then you can cook it,
and turn it into chicken,
and we can eat it.
Would you like that?
You can turn it into chicken,
like, cook it.
If it tastes bad,
you can,
if you got a drink in your refrigerator,
you can,
drink it.
Then it won't taste bad.”

by:  Paula D. Nevison