I Write Sometimes: Thankful Thursday: Here and There

In an effort to have my bits of writing that are scattered around the internet all in one spot, this post's function is to catalog where my bits (polished and unpolished and in between) can be found. Or at least the places I can remember that they can be found. Shoot. Probably should have kept track of that.

And also, most importantly, it's an ongoing thank you to the hosts of the blogs I haunt--they are inspiring, confidence-building, and generous with their own time and blog space. Check out their blogs if you're in need of some inspiration.

Ed DeCaria (of Think Kid Think) March Madness and Madness! Poetry Contests

Ed has been hosting a poetry contest for adults who love to write poetry for children since 2012. I'm convinced he's a robot, because he also holds down a job and presumably takes care of his family during this event, which surely takes up more than 24 hours of his day.

The contest starts with 64 authletes (poets) -- 32 pairs of authletes compete in the first round, 16 move on to the second round, 8 move on to the third round, etc. Authletes are eliminated if the poet they are writing "against" in a pairing receives more votes (a combo of authlete votes, public votes, and student votes). Teachers are encouraged to sign up and have their kids vote in as many match-ups as they can (since the authletes are writing poems for KIDS!). Ed wants poetry to be fun and exciting and accessible to kids--and this contest helps that happen. At the school I teach at, I've seen kids excited about poetry after this contest--not a usual occurrence!

The application to be an authlete, as well as the teacher registration, usually open on the Madness Poetry site sometime in January or February. If you're interested, make sure to follow Think Kid Think on Facebook or subscribe at Madness Poetry so that you get a reminder!

2014

Round 1 (vs. Joe Mohr)

Call to Arms

Oh, heed my call, you summer boys!
Put down your games, put down your toys!
Come with your captain to the fray.
Out in the sun we’ll splash and spray.

Brightly-colored balloon barrage
We’ll drive them back towards their garage.
A swift salvo will make them dash
Ready? Kerplunk. Oh, rats! KERSPLASH!
© Rebekah Hoeft

Round 2 (vs. Lori Degman)

Buckle Up, Butter Cup
“Buckle up, Buttercup!”
Always interrupts my view.
“Walking feet, Mr. Pete!”
Well, that makes me fume and stew.
“Don’t stand on the twirly chair.”
“No jumping off the bed.”
“Make sure you wear your helmet. Oh, please, don’t bump your head.”
I wish my mom would notice, I wish she’d understand.
Rules are not conducive to the life that I have planned.
A life of grand adventure, heroic derring-do.
To these rules,
I’d like to bid–
Adieu and toodle-oo!
© Rebekah Hoeft

2015

Round 1: glyph (vs. Matt Forrest Esenwine)

~^/!!\^~ Mood-O-Meter ~^/!!\^~
I’ve grown my hair out long to gain the wherewithal to warn
My friends, my foes, my family, the mood that does adorn
My heart that day; I’ve learned to style my locks into a quiff.
I form the front into a shape: a mood-o-meter glyph.

When cheerful mood has struck me first, my bangs, they look like this: (~~)
But zigzagged hair is what I wear when morning makes me hiss: (^^)
When lack of sleep weighs down my lids, my hair is limp, won’t bend: (\\\)
And when I’m livelyzanywild; my hair, it stands on end: (!!!)
© Rebekah Hoeft

Round 2: deadbeat (vs. Maureen Lynas)

The Eternal Optimist and the Fifty Year Wait
My friends told me not to give money
To someone named Moochie McMac;
No matter if he is so funny,
He’ll smile but he won’t pay you back;
A deadbeat, a scammer, con artist,
You’ll never see your little dime.
I know you don’t think I’m the smartest;
But I know he just needs some time.
© Rebekah Hoeft

Round 3: facade (vs. Carol Samuelson-Woodson)

SPRING CLEANING (?)
Don’t you worry, Mother dear:
Open closets without fear!
Neat as needles: cleaned up floor,
Tidied tops in dresser drawer.
Look, the shelf that holds my books,
Once in shambles, now it looks
Oh so organized and smart!
Knickknacks, doodads, and my art-
Upside down and turned about-
Now decluttered and cleared out.
Desk was dusted, high and low,
Epic action figures go
Right on top where they’re in sight.
Bed has covers pulled up tight.
Even windows look a treat.
Done, you think? Facade complete!

Round 4: torments (vs. Renée M. LaTulippe)

Ben and Bruce: ~~A Play~~ Almost a Play ~~in One~~ in Almost One Act
Oh, listen, my children to what happened when
This teller of tales was a child of but ten
(Four months and three days ago if I’m exact);
Below are the lines if you’d care to enact.

First enters our hero – that’s me – I’m named Ben,
Just swingin’ and mindin’ my business but then
Next enters the villain called Bruce the Big Brute
Who torments the hero for whom you will root.

Ben (cheerfully): Good mornin' to you, Bruce, oh how do you do?
Bruce (menacingly): Ben, givee that ball and I want your mitt too.
Ben (boldly): That just will not happen, Bruce, uh-uh, no way.
Bruce (cracks knuckles): Well, Ben, I'll just wait: you can't swing here all day.

So bravely I jumped with my ninja-like skill
Had almost escaped ‘til I tripped, took a spill.
We scrabbled and grabbed for the ball. Tell me, friend:
Just how do you think that this story will end?

2017

Round 1: disfigured (vs. Phillip Van Wagoner)

Going, going...
Poor snowman, cast aside and worn;
Disfigured, melting, and forlorn;
A vestige, proof of season's flow;
Adored and formed just days ago.

They knew he wouldn't last for long,
For mud and warmth and robin's song
Were there e'en as they shaped and rolled,
And now he melts as Spring takes hold.

An island now, he is resigned
In lawn of greening brown, confined.
He's slowly losing bulk and girth;
His slow demise: sly Springtime's mirth.
© Rebekah Hoeft

2018

Round 1: contours (vs. Jesse Anna Bornemann)

Almost To My Aunt's
My mom just said that she's so glad.
She's happy we're so close—
these hills a sign we're nearly there
but me, I think they're gross.

If I were king, I'd smooth 'em out;
their contours too severe.
The ups and downs, these hills—
too much—I'm glad that we are near:

I know that once we get there
I'll feel better on flat ground.
My head will stop it's dizzy spin;
my tummy's round and round.

But URP uh, Mom, not close enough.
I held on for so long.
I tried but BLECH the time has come
Pull ov—HRRRLL!

2019

Round 1: ambivalent (vs. David Attree)

Decision
Pete's possibly friend,
but he's probably foe;
the title "my frenemy:"
so apropos.

He asked for my help--
I'm conflicted, I'm split,
ambivalent, torn,
do I help or commit
to meanness,
to ugly,
to acting in spite,
to pointing and laughing,
to taking delight?

Pete's pants aren't quite meeting in places they should.
Seams ripped out at recess and oh, it’s not good.

Breathe in, big breath out.
Kindness wins.
I won't gloat...

{small smirk}

"Of course, I can help hide that hole--here's my coat!"

Round 2: pulverized (vs. J.J. Close)

Best.Player.Ever.
In walked a kid
new to the rink,
staring us down with all ice and no blink,

boasting real loud,
telling how he
pulverized all the best teams in South Key.

Laced up his skates,
straightened his gear,
stepped on the ice—where he fell on his rear.

Out came the coach.
Up stood the kid,
bragging, still yakking, and making his bid:

"Goalie? I'm in!
Cap'n? Will do!
Leading's my thing, not to brag, but it's true."

Coach to the kid,
with a kind frown:
"Maybe let's start with your stick right-side down."

Round 3: interrogates (Terri Cohlene)

Fall vs. Spring

Old Man Winter, referee,
watches sibling rivalry.
Keeps the bookend twins in line
while they bicker, rant, and whine.
Listens to them fight and jeer
'bout the better time of year.

Fall interrogates sweet Spring,
"What excuse have you to bring
for the muck, the mess, the mud?
Melting winter brings a flood."

"Fall," says Spring, "you're just as bad.
Autumn brings the mud plus sad
dying plants and leaves that rot.
You're a blight we ought to blot."

"Blight?" said Fall. "I paint the trees,
chill the air with cooling breeze—
sweet relief to summer's heat.
I'm the best, I am a treat.
How 'bout you? You're just a blink—
just a blip—and Spring, you stink!"

"Wrong," says Spring. "My scent is swell.
Sweet new life is what you smell."

Old Man sighs, "They should be friends;
they're a pair—one starts, one ends;
plant, then harvest; sow, then grow;
both can feel my cold wind blow.
Since it comes to that, I say
Spring and Fall can go away.
They're both out, and I am in.
Old Man Winter for the win!"

Round 4: relinquished (vs. Lori Degman)

That Time Percy Jackson Made Me Fail My Test
I relinquished all prospects
of getting an A.
I shuddered and stared.
I was shook.

I had studied all evening
I'd skimmed and I'd scanned
but found I had read
the wrong book.

The exam did not cover
the rise and the fall
of Greece, nor the tales
of Greek lore.

My perusal of Percy's
adventures was wrong;
exciting, but not
the right war!

I'm not sure how the subject
escaped my regard;
I asked (well, I begged)
for a night

to attempt to recover.
My teacher said, "Fine."
I'm certain that I'll
get it right.

So I sit, now determined
to ace it and prove
my grasp of the South
and the North.

At my desk is my textbook,
a notepad, and pen.
I read, then I jot—
back and forth.

I have covered the vocab
from rout to Bull Run.
I'm rapturous, sure
I'll succeed.

But it isn't conducive
to study and work
too hard without pause;
so I'll read

from the novel I've chosen,
a Narnian tale.
Adventure awaits!
I dive in!
.
.
.
.
It's a quarter to seven?!
I read through the night?!
Last night was a fail;
I can't win!

2020

Round 1: exuberant (vs. Amy Moore)

Elephants, Exuberant
The elephant, exuberant,
smelled a water hole.

She trumpeted, "Hey, elephants,
it's time to rock and roll!
But steady now; go stealthily,"
her trumpet now a chirp.
"We mustn't let the rhinos get
a teensy-tiny slurp.
Those peevish, pushy pachyderms
always get there first,"
the matriarch sighed bitterly.
"Those rhinos are the worst."

So elephants on tippy-toe
crashed through the underbrush.

Their leader glared, she gave a bark:
"You're loud as thunder, HUSH!"

But elephants, exuberant,
loud and filled with glee,
outran those rhinos, jumped right in:
a joyful jamboree!

2021

Round 1: detrivores (vs. Colleen Murphy)

Pep Talk at the Meeting of the Detritivores
"I've heard your gripes and grumbles," Mayor Pillbug kindly said.
"You'd like a feast that's fresh and new, instead of old and dead.
Your diet of detritus has you down? You're feeling blue?
Our forest wouldn't function if you all chose not to chew
and poo debris. Believe me, please, the woods would be appalling!
The leaves, dead critters, fallen trees? They're all our higher calling.
Tell me, Crew, what do we do?!!"

"WE POO!"

"Umm...yes. What else...?"

"WE MUNCH!"

"So let's get to it! Time to chew it! Decomposers, time for lunch!!"

Round 2: buffeted (vs. Heidi Mordhorst)

Through the Storm
Raging winds brought icy rain

across the green and grassy plain.

Buffeted by nature’s force,
a butterfly was thrown off course.

The insect lost all hope that she
could leave the lonely, wind-whipped tree

in which she’d sheltered from the gale.
As winds wailed on she felt more frail,

but then a bison paused to rest.
He heard her whispered, sad request

for help. He said he’d run straight through
the wind and rain till skies were blue.

In his fur, tucked safe and warm,
the butterfly endured the storm.

When wings were dry, she waved goodbye
and fluttered, grateful, to the sky.

2023

Round 1: guttural (vs. Anne Lipton)

Recital at Concert Cave
An ogre named Oggy sat sweetly to hear
his best bud, a raven, croak songs loud and clear.
Harmonious? No. Rav was pitchy and brash;
no nightingale’s skill and the tunes, not a smash.
Unbothered by boos from the trolls in the crowd,
Rav gurgled and rasped out his songs; then he bowed.
Then Oggy, his bestie, jumped up with a scowl.
He shouted and let loose a guttural growl.
“YOU GET ON YOUR FEET! That raven’s so brave!”
Trolls panicked, applauded, then fled the dark cave
where Rav now stood laughing, “The best fun in years!
They’re gone. You can take the plugs out of your ears!"

Round 2: retrograde (vs. Katrina Swenson)

Retrograde Kid
The kids in my class are friendly and kind.
I like them. We talk.
We're pals but I find

we’re sort of like worlds
that circle a sun.
Their orbits are synced
to orbits of fun.

My path’s not the same:
It’s slow and reversed.
My retrograde orbit
is sometimes the worst.

Or...maybe it’s not?
I just have a need
for one who will travel
my path and my speed;

a kid who will pause,
observe tiny ants;
who likes to examine
odd rocks and neat plants;

a friend who will think
some thoughts just like mine.
I bet that my orbit
is perfectly fine!

Round 3: fashionista (vs. Terri Cohlene)

Thanks! We've Got Pockets!

Way out on an island where salt breezes blow,

where beaches have sand that’s as white as the snow,
where sun dances on the cerulean sea,
where mostly the vibe is relaxed and lowkey;

a cruise ship laid anchor than ferried to shore
marsupial tourists with baggage galore.
The globetrotting critters were always dressed well.
Each chic fashionista was under the spell

of newest and boldest and trendy new clothes.
They primped and they preened and they teased each of those
marsupial cousins who though bare was best.
“So tacky, so coarse! They are NOT even dressed.”

A cousin just chuckled and challenged them to
a battle of fashion. “I once was like you.
I traveled and shopped at the ritzy boutiques,”
the wallaby said. “Till I spent a few weeks

relaxing on sandy white beaches. I learned
about what’s important.” She winked, and she turned
to crank up the tunes. They all strutted their stuff.
But the tourists weren’t winning and they’d had enough.

For Wallaby pulled from her pocket the win:
posh sunnies, a dress, and some jewels to strut in!
“We get it, we lost! We forgot all about
our pouches! You’ve got the marsupial clout.

2024

Round 1: farrago (vs. Sue Lancaster)

Fall's Farrago

Near autumn's end, my gramps and I
clear out the garden shed.

To start, we stand
and stare and sigh;
a mishmash mess is spread.

"Oh boy!" I groan.
"It’s bad.” I whine.

"It's fine!" My grandpa smiles.
"We just dig in!"

And so we do.
We dive into the piles.

We find
a spade
some string
a pail of dried up bulbs and soil
two rakes
a hoe
four bags of mulch
ten pens
a can of oil
old packs of seeds
a broom
a box of rototiller parts
nine mismatched gloves
a plate
eight cups
his planting guides and charts.

It never ends,
this hodgepodge hash–
farrago of the gear
we use to tend
Gramp's garden beds
from spring to fall each year.

We haul, we sort,
we sweep, replace.
Disorder ordered, then–

we stand and nod.
We grin, begin
to plan for spring again.

Michelle Heidenrich Barnes at Today's Little Ditty

Each month during the school year, Michelle interviews an author. At the end of each interview, the author gives a Ditty of the Month Challenge for Michelle's readers. Michelle provides a padlet where her Ditty-ers (it's a word) can post their poems. She chooses a few each month to highlight on her actual web page. At the end of the month, she wraps up the challenge with wise words and all of the collected poems. She also has published books using poems from the DMC.

If you're looking for prompts and a supportive environment, definitely hang out with the very sweet, very smart, and always encouraging Michelle at her website. Being able to post poems to a padlet is a great way to try out different kinds of poems and get used to sharing the little bits of you.

*These poems were published in an e-book and also in a really and truly actual book you can hold in your hands! You can buy The Best of Today's Little Ditty 2016 here and The Best of Today's Little Ditty 2017-2018 here. You can also buy Michelle's first book, The Best of Today's Little Ditty 2014-2015 here.

When Poeming (September 2016)*
All things take on great import
I am obliged to exhort
Truth in rocks, peas, traffic court

I THINK I REMEMBER YOU DANCED (October 2016)*

In Lake Placid
In a hotel room
Crowded with the
Pieces of your heart
For once gathered
All under one roof
You danced
Uncharacteristically
On a table
For your delight
Bubbled up
And would not be contained
And since kidlings
And company took up
All sensible space
And your joyful jig
Needed space to call its own
The table
As stable and round
As any hotel table ever is
Was your stage
And laughter and applause
The only accompaniment you needed.

Of course
It was a long drive from Michigan
With a husband
Bickering twins
And a left out little brother
So maybe
You were just glad to be out of the car.

AT MAYBURY (November 2016)
We walk, we four, on earthen paths
made silent with damp leaves
that blanket all the space below
and glow above—our lamp.
Unearthly light is our delight
and earthy scents, a balm.
The woods, they rest, and we—for now—
at peace, know Heaven's calm.

UNTITLED (November 2016: Five for Friday)

alarmless saturday
slow warm waking

SAID THE NURSE (February 2017)
I see you hidden in this place
where sorrow and surrender roost,
where burdens, heavy, should consume
all hope but faith is cradled, soul
resistant, hope persists, and you
against all odds and fleetingly
are seen when trusting opened eyes
can glimpse what adversary grief
would shroud. I hear you, quavered soft,
in psalms recited frail but true;
a sweetheart—aged but faithful still
holds fast e’en past the end and smiles
through tears and mem’ries shared with all
who care to hear. I see you, small,
in tiny fingers wrapped around
a sleepless mother’s. You—holy—
against all odds and heeding not
the sage advisors—persevere
in quiet crooning song. I see you,
in gentle speech, in careful touch
in chaos split by calm. You touch
eleventh-hour rushed goodbyes
when life with death collides. You’re in
this space, this time when weak defeats
all strength—yet you, the greatest, here
remain; I see you in this place.

ODE TO MY COFFEE CUP (March 2017)
In half-light, readied, steaming, pink perfect cup,
I held you, warming my palms, a balm.
Relaxed morning breath brought your waking scent;
then first soft sip, familiar to my ears—
our ritual ending in my bittersweet waking.
Why now, Coffee Cup, are you empty? Coffee Cup,
It’s because I am greedy and day is dawned;

it’s time to get up.

JUST A LITTLE DITTY (April 2017)

Some may claim their love in stanzas,
Eighty-paged extravaganzas;
Bet their darlings won't remember
What was written come December.

My way differs oh so slightly:
Verses few that trip so lightly;
Little ditties stick so nicely,
State my cause just so precisely.

Zeno Upon Being Surprised When Stealing Sister's Sweets (April 2017)
My ninja skills need perfecting.
My sneak needs work:
my feet
stomp
when they should be
silent,
clomp
when stealthiness
should rule...
...WHOMP!

Ow.

What Does the Blackbird Know? (April 2017)
What does the black bird know?
To wait: 'til thaw has come to stay,
let lion's roar of March fade 'way,
and winds more warm than chill allay.

What does the blackbird know?
To flash his wings, his pride display,
trill conk-la-ree from stalks that sway;
his advent is a hopeful day.

Kind is a Donut (April 2017)
Her solicitude
made my attitude
seem harsh
and rude
and crude.

Her compassion made
my unkindness fade.
The grump
displayed
was swayed:

her sweet offer to
share her donut drew
my smile;
it grew
and grew.

Roly Poly Hero (April 2017)
You're small and flat
or round as that
marble left out in the dirt.

You're small but strong,
you fix the wrong;
help more than ever you hurt.

Muse (May 2017)
Sometimes it comes
with thunderclap and lightning strike
expectant pause
then
wind and rain
persistent insistent gathering speed and power
battering
until
it stops.
The wind that whipped
drives away rain and grey
and the only thing left
is world
fresh and new.

Sometimes it comes with
clouds that blanket the sky all day
and one feels
a drip
here
a drop
there
but it doesn’t
quite start
and then…
nothing.
It fizzles.

And sometimes it drizzles
clouds low and dark and cozy.
Damp clings
even to the air
so there’s no place to
stand without
getting wet
but one can’t exactly say that
it is raining.

Sometimes it comes, perfect,
storybook clouds rolling in
gathering
darkening
giving notice
with first pitter-patter
then heavy and steady
soaking the ground
puddling the walks;
a simple
renewing.

CONSOLATION (September 2017)
diaphanous

ethereal

ephemeral eventide falls

gossamer gilded
hues illuminated

jewel-toned kingdom:
lake mist nestles
over pines
quiet
russet and saffron trees

Chores Are Fine. It's Fine. We're Fine. (October 2017)
On hard-packed, shaded, friendly road,
Our wheels were sure, we never slowed;
We moved in sync, with joy, we were a team.

We ventured farther down the lane,
Our goal a simple one to gain:
Avoiding chores at home was our sole scheme.

Our carefree ride was sweet but short
For soon our habitat would thwart;
Our joyful jaunt was changed when past the stream

Our wheels found dusty washboard track;
We thought that we might double back
As shade became a gloam; no sun did gleam.

The houses took a cheerless turn,
The lawns were junkyards. Faces stern
We pressed on, moxie pushed to the extreme.

With legs that shook and palms that sweat,
We made it past that unkempt threat.
Our confidence the sunlight did redeem.

Now languid, rolling past a field
Our haste forgotten, jitters yield
To summer's warmth and ease but then our dream

Becomes a nightmare as a shriek
Is heard and heard again; we freak;
Our wheels they skid and legs run out of steam.

But then we're supercharged with fright
For menace lurks just out of sight;
The farm with monstrous mischief-makers teem.

We peddle fast but tangle, THUD!
Our nerves are shot by curdled blood;
We race with dents and scrapes. Relief supreme

When home is reached, our chores a sport
We relish as to Mom report,
Who laughs (she gloats?!): "'Twas just a peacock's scream!"

CAR RIDE WITH TEEN (November 2017: Five for Friday)

Briefly bonding; ticking time bomb.

TRUE WHOLE (November 2017)
When viewed as whole,
the forest holds
a charm, a beauty undenied.
In seasons all
its splendor proved:
balletic boughs and leaves that hide
the dirty work,
the underside.
Inspection shows the grit, the grind,
the work that goes
unnoticed and
the workers that are oft-maligned.
The hyphae spread
their tendrils: webbed
destruction, ruin reaped, stage set
for comrades raid
the remnant woods.
Detritivores: they aid, abet,
they squirm, they ooze,
they crawl, they flit.
Death-eaters singly seen disgust
but duty-bound
they persevere.
With careful study, eyes adjust.
We view the woods’
true whole, not part.
The rot, the foul: ‘tis forest breath.
Diverse the work
complex the dance;
we see how life renews in death.

AN EPITAPH FOR MY EPITAPH (February 2018)*
'Tis gone too soon; you'll never quote it.
The truth, 'tis sad: I never wrote it.

ANOTHER EPITAPH

My epitaph once etched in stone
will fade like sinew blood and bone.
What's written here, it matters not
but where's hereafter's parkin' spot.

Unbound (March 2018)
you whisper and
let
your pen scream your
truth
words unsaid choked now fly
unbound you breathe made brave to speak them loud
© Rebekah Hoeft

A Golden Shovel Poem
in the form of a
Pi-Archimedes Poem
inspired by
a line
“and let your truth fly, loud”
in the poem
“Truth”
by Nikki Grimes

I'm NOT a T-Rex: #ChilesaurusProblems (April 2018)
In late October gloaming light,
when ghosts and goblins in full sight
are met with smiles and sweets throughout the night,

a dino clad in armor bright
held shield and sword--a fearsome knight
who hoped to fuel his gnawing appetite--

was met with shrieks and screams and fright,
so clanking-clanging ran, his flight
was clumsy; as he fled, he sobbed, contrite:

“I'm not my cuz--no height! I'm slight!
No need to fight! The only bite
I hunted was no trick-just sweet delight.”

PROOF OF LIFE (May 2018)
I see
not you
but spray of crusts
and flock of birds

I see
not you
but steaming dish
and window cracked
and box with blanket
on porch on snow

I see
not you
but pawprints
from door to fence
to door to yard
to door to gate to door

I see
not you
but TV flicker
and lights on and lights off
and garbage cans out and garbage cans in
and garage door open and garage door closed

I see not you
but in this twilight rest
see quiet proof
of life intact
in winter’s grip

To My Yesterself September 2018
Why, yesterself, did you waste any thought
or angst or time on things you couldn't change?
Why make your mind a cage? It sought,
dear yesterself, a waste of time and thought.
What shift, what happiness in you is wrought
by mere review? Let go or act! Exchange,
my yesterself, the weighty waste of thought
and angst for time spent on the things you change.
© Rebekah Hoeft September 2018

Instructions for a Forest Trail May 2019
Feel no need to only be
straight or curved
or sloped or flat
or quiet or noisy
or lined with leafy trees or bare-branched trees or flowered trees.

Feel no need to be gravel or earth or covered in needles or autumn leaves.
Be all those things in turn.

Just give me space
to climb
to stroll
to stretch
to stand
to breathe.
© Rebekah Hoeft, 2019

Choose Kind June 2019
When you're unsure of how to be--
choose kind.
When those around cannot agree
and you're not sure of what to be,
your conscience makes its silent plea.
Pause and listen. You will find
that you can know just who to be.
Choose kind.
© Rebekah Hoeft

I Guess I'm the Funny AND Smart One (November 2019)
Mom thinks my sister Lily is intelligent,
but then I asked why mountains feel so tired.
She shrugged; I smiled, “Because they do not Everest.”
I’d hoped she’d screech and say I was inspired.
Lil had no clue that I was being comical.
She didn’t catch my grin and great big winks.
Instead, she strangely said, “That’s so hill areas.”
Poor girl is not as smart as my mom thinks.
©Bekah Hoeft 2019

WINTER WALKING (February 2020)
On winter walks
on crisp cold mornings
my favorite part
of frozen gravel paths
is finding
rumpled edges
and shallow ditches
where skims of
clouded ice
hang waiting for
my ice-searching
puddle-crunching
foot to
smash crash crinkle crackle crunch through
to the hollow space beneath.

MORNING MOMENTS (May 2020)
After 49 days,
I’ll welcome the warmth
Of snuggles before the rest wake.

After 49 days,
I’ll listen for clunks
Of ice in the glass for his Coke.

After 49 days,
She’ll sleep in ‘til ten
Then rise and check in with friends.

After 49 days,
In quiet I wait
For my life to wake and begin.
© 2020 Rebekah Hoeft

Laura Salas at Writing the World for Kids

Each of these poems are ekphrastic--poetry inspired by art, in this case pictures that Laura posts on her website. She encourages her readers to write a poem of 15 words or less--spending just a tiny bit of time on it. I shoot for 15 minutes or less, but there are no "rules." Laura, like Michelle, provides a supportive environment for writers--commenting on each poem shared (as do many of the other writers).

In the following poems, click on the link in the poem titles to find the pictures associated with the poem (you maybe you can try your hand at it as well!).

September 2017

PHOENIX TREE
in tree ablaze we see
fiery fall’s finish
winter’s wait
spring’s stirring
summer’s splendor
© Rebekah Hoeft

October 2017

OWL THOUGHTS
So much pressure to expound
I’m really not that wise–
I just want a mouse.

December 2017

TAKE OFF

Pushing back nerves
Boldly pushing on
Steeling self
For knife’s edged flight

FROSTY MORN

While I slept

frost crept
o’er all things still
and chilled;
now meets rosy dawn

Colonists
swept along
by silent sails.
Still searching–
we’ve left no mark
save stardust swirls.

January 2018

YEAH CONFETTI

Party prep
Puts pep
In my step
Til time to cleanup
Then I just schlep.

February 2018

Upon Secretly Making Lemon Curd When Lemon-Loving Child Is Not Home
delectable
delicious
so luscious
so divine

luxuriously scrumptious
so sweet
so tart
so mine

June 2018

NOT ALL THAT

with distance,
a graceful perfect dream

proximity brings truth
reveals a gleam of mean

July 2018

King of the Hill

scrabbledclawedpushedgiggledmy way to lofty rulemonarch til I’m offed

© Rebekah Hoeft

September 2018
Wind Tunnels
the one that didn’t get away

countless millions of
irresdescent
incandescent
glimmery shimmery ideas
free for the taking
–caught just one

November 2018
Dragonfly Captured!
June 16
frenzy fades
respite rises
on jeweled wings
of dragonflies:
messengers of summer’s pause

February 2019

Bird on a Branch
Bare branches bounce

then still;
he lands;
listens for the whisper winds of sweet spring

Susanna Leonard Hill

Susanna is an established children's author (Punxsutawney Phyllis is my favorite Groundhog's Day book!) and supporter of authors and author wanna-bes! She hosts each week "Would You Read It." Writers of children's books post a pitch about a piece of their writing. Her readers comment on the pitch and give it suggestions--at the end of each month, votes are cast for the writers' pitches and the winning writer gets to have his or her pitch critiqued by an agent! So generous of Susanna and those agents to provide time and advice!

Susanna also hosts a few writing contests (with great prizes!). There are no crabby people who are in it only to win it (or at least they don't show it!). Her contests are a great way to practice giving little bits of yourself to the world--everyone is encouraging and helpful. They are super fun to write (though maddening because she only allows a small word count!). Check out her blog before Valentines Day, Christmas, and Halloween to participate in her "tiny" contests!

December 2016: Holiday Contest

Sweet Hopeful Hymns We Sing

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing:
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing:
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
Lift Up Your Heads
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
Hark the Glad Sound!
Lift Up Your Heads
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
Come, Expected Jesus
Hark the Glad Sound!
Lift up Your Heads
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
In the Bleak Midwinter
Once in David’s City
Come, Expected Jesus
Hark the Glad Sound!
Lift Up Your Heads
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
Away in the Manger
In a Little Stable
In the Bleak Midwinter
Once in David’s City
Come, Expected Jesus
Hark the Glad Sound!
Lift Up Your Heads
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

In the days before Christmas, sweet hopeful hymns we sing
Oh Come All Ye Faithful
Joy to the World
Away in the Manger
In a Little Stable
In the Bleak Midwinter
Once in David’s City
Come Expected Jesus
Hark the Glad Sound!
Lift Up Your Heads
Savior, Come
Come, Emmanuel
Preparing for the Advent of Our King.

December 2016: Holiday Contest

Sneaky Snoop: A Cautionary Christmas Tale

Ten days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Found a gift that made me whisper, “Whoop!”

Nine days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Eight days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Seven days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Wooden slingshot!
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Six days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
SIX PAIRS OF SOCKS??!
Wooden slingshot!
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Five days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
New underwear.
SIX PAIRS OF SOCKS?!
Wooden slingshot!
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Four days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Ugly scratchy sweater.
New underwear.
SIX PAIRS OF SOCKS?!
Wooden slingshot!
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Three days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Rocks wrapped so nicely.
Ugly scratchy sweater.
New underwear.
SIX PAIRS OF SOCKS?!
Wooden slingshot!
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

Two days before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Two lumps of coal.
Rocks wrapped so nicely.
Ugly scratchy sweater.
New underwear.
SIX PAIRS OF SOCKS?!
Wooden slingshot!
Yellow yo-yo!
Bright bicycle!
T’was a gift that made me whoopity-whoop!

The day before Christmas, I snuck a sneaky snoop:
Found a note from Mother,
It said, “You think you’re sneaky,
But you are not really.
Your gifts are all rehidden
Might not find them until
FIVE DAYS FROM NOW!!
It’ll be fun
Since you like
Hunting for your gifts
Merry Christmas, son! I love you, sneaky snoop!”

February 2017--Valentiny Contest

Surprise, Surprise!!

Mama and Heidi were done with the checkup. They both got a lollipop for being so nice to the doctor.

Mama smiled. “Let’s save these for Daddy and give them to him as a surprise with our news when he comes home.”

Heidi didn’t want to give up her lollipop, but the news was great and she loved surprising people, so she agreed.

They planned a special supper with pizzas and salads. By the time Daddy arrived, their plan was complete.

Mama and Heidi greeted Daddy at the door.

“Hi hi, Daddy, Daddy,” Heidi shouted, jumping from behind the couch, giving him two big squeezers.

“Hi, hi, sweetie, sweetie,” Mama said with a grin.

Daddy looked at them suspiciously. “How are you two?”

“Great, great,” Heidi said, hopping up and down and giggling.

Mama said, “Time for dinner dinner!”

During dinner, Mama and Heidi kept talking in their silly doubletalk. Daddy just chuckled and shook his head.

Finally, when they handed Daddy their lollipops for dessert, Daddy asked why they weren’t having ice cream as usual.

“We thought you might like a surprise from my doctor doctor,” Mama said.

Daddy stopped. He stared. He knew. He hugged them both.

“I love love you,” whispered Heidi to her new twin brothers, hugging her mama’s belly.

December 2017: Holiday Contest

Travelin' Blues

We’re travelers.

Mom writes books about different cultures. We’re home for a bit while we catch up with friends and school work. Then -- off again!

The only time this is a problem is Christmas. Every year, a new place. I just want to be home.

This is how it goes before Christmas:

“Mama, can we go home for Christmas?”

“Not this year, Kels. This year we’re going to [insert name of faraway country].”

And then we’re off.

I’ve gotta admit we’ve been part of amazing Christmas celebrations.

When I was seven, fireworks and ice cream in Brazil: spectacular!

Thirteen desserts in France. YESSS!

A sauna on Christmas Eve in Estonia: interesting?!

Last year, two Christmases.

Iceland in December: books and pretty fried bread. Perfection.

Ethiopia in January: 4:00 a.m. candlelight procession. Intense.

This year, I’ve had it. I wanna go home.

We’re in Australia. I say, with grump:

“Mom. Let’s go home for Christmas.”

She just gave a tired smile and kept typing.

Grrr.

Today we’re off to wherever we’re going. Don’t care where.

We’re late, rushing to get settled with our flight standbys: earbuds, neck pillows, books. Mom pulls out a gift bag.

“Open it.”

I know it must be her buttering me up for another traveling Christmas.

As the flight attendant says “...and then straight to the States,” I read the words “DTW” at the end of the printed itinerary that was in the bag. Detroit. Michigan. Home. Heaven on earth.

“Surprise,” Mom says quietly.

Best. Christmas. Ever.

February 2018--Valentiny Contest

Grumpily Yours

Miss Springtide chirped cheerily. “Today we’ll create coffers of cordiality, crates of consideration…”

Crickets.

“We’re making Valentine’s mailboxes.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Her students smiled.

Except Vern.

“Gross,” he grouched.

“Utilize your superior skills to appraise the dimensions of your receptacles to ensure felicitous fits,” Miss Springtide directed.

Crickets.

“She means measure so your paper fits,” Vern grumbled.

“Ohhhhhhh.” They got busy, choosing cheery colors. Vern chose grey.

“I hope no one gives me anything,” he muttered while measuring.

“I’m not giving anyone anything,” while cutting and complaining.

“Hmmph,” he groused as he glued.

All week, the class created their cards.

Vern ignored the bustle but noticed when classmates delivered their creations.

He grudgingly helped a few kids whose boxes were falling apart and those who forgot how to spell a word for their valentines.

He started to hope they wouldn’t notice he hadn’t made any.

The day before Valentine’s, Vern asked Miss Springtide for paper.

“Indubitably,” she said.

On Valentine’s, the children dumped out their boxes and looked through their cards.

The room quieted.

Vern felt his classmates’ eyes. He looked up. Each student held a beautiful card made with a rainbow of different-sized hearts.

“I hope you like them,” Vern said shyly, but meant “I hope you like me.”

Their smiles told him they did.

October 2018 Halloweenzie Contest

The Plan

Princess stirs the bubbling concoction. In the flickering firelight, her tarnished crown and tattered dress look eerily royal.

Jester and Bear arrive as something howls in the dusky distance. The group shivers and huddles by the fire.

"All is as planned," Princess says. "None will resist."

Concerned, Bear peers into the cauldron. "Will there be enough, you think?"

Jester cackles. "Of course! Princess plots perfectly.”

A lone figure emerges out of the shadowed woods.

“Look. It begins."

"Trick-or-treat?" Mouse says timidly.

Princess smiles kindly. "Welcome. Come. Warm yourself.”

She offers Mouse a cup of cocoa. “Nice costume, Keith. Happy Halloween!”

© October 2018 Rebekah Hoeft

Valentiny Contest--February 2019

Eve and Mort

Eve folded, cut, and glitter glued
so many Valentines that you'd
be certain she had made enough for all

her class of twenty-eight, plus two--
a card for Mrs. Mackenrue
and one for her best friend across the hall--

but you'd be wrong, for Eve was short
by one sweet heart. I must report
it was no accident that Mort was missed.

For he on playground three days past
had beat her in a race; aghast
she claimed, "He cheats!" and bopped Mort with her fist.

So she was sent to Mrs. Brahm
who shrilled, "Detention!," called her mom,
who picked Eve up and grounded her for life;

or so it felt to Eve: "Not fair!"
She pouted, stomped, and vowed, "I swear
I'll never be a friend to Mortie Drife."

On Valentine's she made her move
to show him up; with hearts she'd prove
that she was not his friend and never would

forgive him for his besting her,
for stealing "Fastest Kid," no sir,
but when she saw his card she felt no good.

It was impressive, glittered gold,
Amazingly with words in bold:
"Two kids as quick as us should be fast friends."

Guilt-ridden, in remorse Eve cried
"You won! You didn't cheat! I lied!"
With Valentiny hug she made amends.

Holiday Contest--December 2019

Merry and Bright

You'd think Christmas Eve on the tippy-top of the world would be merry and bright. But Christmastime in Christmastown is covered in cold darkness. The only light comes from what stars and moon peek through the clouds. This Christmas, not even the moon showed its face.

Grumpy Christmastown elves, wishing for their cozy homes and well-deserved naps, were not cheered by Abner’s letter.

Tomkin waved his lantern around, casting strange shadows on the other elves. “Abner said there’d be something splendid out here. All I see is dark...and a little more dark after that...wait...I see something. Oop. More dark.”

Pierette said, “Tomkin, Abner never lies. If he said we’ll have a treat tonight, we will.”

The elves agreed and huddled together, passing the time with elf song and stories.

After hours of waiting, elves started taking stealthy steps back home until Tomkin gasped and pointed at a glimmer growing in the sky. Soon, it looked as if the sun had decided to wake from its sleep. Brightly colored packages dropped, gliding to the ground on shimmering parachutes. The elves scampered to open them:

“Candy canes!”

“Cotton candy!”

“Chocolate covered carrots!”

—all the makings for a fine elf feast.

The last parachute floated down, carrying a giant lantern and another letter:

Dear Ones,

You worked hard this year!

Enjoy your feast!

Love,

Abner

Head Elf,

Delivery Division

And so they did and all were merry and bright, even in the darkest, most tippy-top part of the world.

Valentiny Contest February 2020

Heart Hunt

Samuel shook his sister. “Josie. Wake up.”

“Samuel,” Josephine grumbled, “it’s not dignified to be shaken. Kindly desist.
“Princess Josephine, your royal presence is requested on a scavenger hunt. Might you get up NOW?!”

Josephine popped up. “To find what?”

Samuel shrugged, holding up a heart-shaped card with glimmering, golden words: ‘Head to the HEARTh.’ “Mother and Father left this before they set out for the Valentine’s ball.”

They ran to the great room. There they found a warm fire and another card.

Josephine read: 'Go where cLOVErleaf grows.'

“The meadow!”

Once ready, they crossed the moat to the snowy meadow. Josephine sighed. “I wish Herbert was here. He loved adventures.”

Samuel’s eyes grew hot with tears. “I know. But he had to go. He didn’t like scaring people.”

The next crimson clue hung from a snowy branch on the edge of the meadow.

'Find your HEART’s desire where foxgLOVE’s found first.'

Josephine wondered. “The only thing my heart desires is -- Oh! Maybe through the woods…”

“...by the cave! Do you think…?”

“I do. Let’s go!”

They ran until they reached the cave.

Curled in the clearing was their dragon.

“Herbert!”

A golden heart around his neck read: 'Herbert’s here to stay. Happy Valentine’s Day!'

Herbert purred as they gave him a welcome-home hug.

Renée LaTulippe at No Water River

Renee is an actress, poet, encourager, and most importantly, my nemesis. :) Just kidding--but she did oust me during the March Madness poetry tournament with a poem that will be forever stuck in my head! She is very talented and as with the other people I've included on this page, is generous with her time and blog space and in her encouragement of writers at all stages of development. This past year, she hosted multiple authors during Poetry Month, who each gave a challenge to her readers. Check out her site, which if full of poetry readings, tips, tricks, and author inspiration! The poem titles below lead you to the author interview and prompt that inspired it.

FISH
Little nudges
here and there
barely breaching
sending ripples circling
they catch my eye;
I look
too late
to glimpse
the corporal creature.

But sometimes
one big jump
a shimmer
a glimmering glance
before
diving down to the dark.

Occasionally
inexplicably
one jumps
and lands
flapping and flopping
shining
waiting for me to
grab hold
inspect and keep
or throw back to the deep.
© Rebekah Hoeft

An Ode Of Rejoicing Upon Finding My Missing Left Shoe

I know, I know. I’m sorry–I am;
I know that I lost you,
my wayward left shoe.

That’s not the word, that’s not what I meant;
mislaid (all my fault), or
obscured on the floor

by junk I stashed, tucked under my bed;
for months couldn’t find you–
my beautiful shoe.

And now it’s hot–your leathery form
while pleasing when cool out,
when warm much too stout.

You know I mean you’re sturdy, not fat.
You’re perfect, I tell you,
my found leather shoe.
© Rebekah Hoeft

Twitter Poems

Some of these are from contests, but most are from a challenge I set for myself to post little tweet sized poems during Poetry Month in 2017. Check out @BekahHoeft on Twitter for the actual tweets (with hashtags and images).

Twitter is a fun way to practice writing small--tiny observations about one small moment or concise descriptions of big ideas. Hard. But fun in a word nerd way.

April 1, 2017
when no one watches
the mishievous sprout peeks out
throws back covers, smiles
© Rebekah Hoeft

April 2, 2017
sabbath morning wakes:

rose gold dawn whispers worship

creation sings praise

stubbornly states resistance

shows worth in small bloom

It’s due in the morning I squeaked

So even though weary

My brain growing bleary

I pressed on til...zzzzz
© Rebekah Hoeft

April 5, 2017
In Rome

I swing

while you place sunshine in my hair

and friends laze under shade of tree chopped down

April 6, 2017
Teacher

Encourages

Students to do

Their best:

Do not worry

And do not fret

You are smart in so many ways.

April's Spring

Laughed and said "I'll bring

Confusion and annoyance.

With snow and sleet I'll squash their joyance."
© Rebekah Hoeft

April 8, 2017
Pulled from sleep as birds awake

Dark but soon the dawn will break

New day calls my bed forsake

Blankie Hankie
© Rebekah Hoeft

April 10, 2017
WHAT?!!! I missed April 10th? What happened? I congratualated myself at the end of the month for sticking with something and finishing it to the end. I am a failure. :)

April 11, 2017
What My Sister Becomes When She Wears a New Dress:

Twirl Girl

Cheer-i-o cheerup chirp

When do robins sleep?
© Rebekah Hoeft

April 13, 2017
You know,

you don't have to

wait watch pine hope.

Why not

act do change the world with your gift

who would deny and betray

gave thanks and broke bread

and passed the cup knowing guilt

misplaced would be on His head.

April 15, 2017

Stunned, standing unsure,
brokenhearted and confused,
hopes dashed, praise muted.

Grief-stricken, they go
to homes that feel strange and cold.
Their world has just died.
© Rebekah Hoeft

April 16, 2017

Inexplicably

Extraordinarily

Outrageous sunrise

April 17, 2017
Day off

No plans except

Laundrydishespaybills

Cleanhouseplanlessonsweedgarden

April 17, 2017
Oh, here it is. I caught up. An extra April 17th tweet. Whew. Not a complete failure.

What's first? Mow? Clutter?

Dust? Windows.....ooh, look! Tulips!

Spring cleaning problems.

a hint of pink coyly winks

pill bugs save lost soil

autumnal deaths

and winter freezes

then new life brought

by warm spring breezes

words will do what words will do

freed they're mine no longer

wise or winsome

right or wrong

Saw a lamb & baby goat

Stepped in poo & caught a frog

Scared a snake & pet a dog

Took a walk&ran a race

Tripped in mud while playing chase

Scraped my knee&gashed my arm

with my brain? the #s danced

6+3 surely

do not add up to 8 or
10. oh yeah i got it 9!

April 25, 2017
small poems whisper
skitter and scamper and sing

to any soul who

will stop and listen, notice

beauty hiding in plain sight

tinkers and putters, invents;

thePOCKETSinside my mind

theySPEAKmyFEELINGS

Heart SINGING&SOUL thrilling

make meFEELa bit moreWHOLE

she's impatient, rude;

I follow: dive deep into

that mean-filled abyss

until our choice is to break

welcomed when I pause to see

her for who she is

girl woman finding

her own voice but still needing

balancing mem'ries and fact

by Creation's shout: man's step

muted: earthen paths

unearthly light forest song

refresh: mind and soul renewed

Connects incongruity:

Harmonious whole

July 18, 2017
All of us sometimes

Know nothing about something

We need space&time

&patience so we grow&

Know some things about something

will melt into

sweet songs sung,

wise words read,

eternal Truth--

grace undeserved--

shared by young

with old-

greatest story

ever told.

September 8, 2017*
In planet protest four quit

Penned the proof of my love, 'tis my lyrical grovel.

My couplet, when I start it, will be great. You'll have it by next Sunday at the late..

December 22, 2017
I forgot to pen poem (I put off 'til late)

Tis the price for my habit to procrastinate.

When cold we slide through snowed in stops.

© Rebekah Hoeft

June 2, 2018
EXPENSIVE TASTES
With filet and fresh lobster and sushi agrees;
but she's crazed, she's a monster if you feed her cheese.

I LIKE A GOOD BEAT

If classical, metal, smooth jazz, pop, or rap--

I'll listen as long as it makes my toes tap.

July 21, 2018
MY LIFE IS A MUSICAL SCORE
There are lyrics for every occasion you meet

Sing 'em out even if your voice isn't so sweet.

Saturday Evening Post

Each of these poems are ekphrastic--poetry inspired by a Saturday Evening Post cover. The SEP hosts a contest every two months. The editors post a picture of an old cover and poets submit limericks to go with it. It's easy, it's fun, it's free, and you should give it a try. Click the date above each limerick to see the picture to go with my limerick and read the other limericks chosen for the issue.

March/April 2016 Runner-Up
He huffs and he puffs ’round the links.
He’s quite unaware that he stinks.
His drives are too short,
And I’m sad to report:
When putting, his ball never sinks.
© Rebekah Hoeft

May/June 2016 Winner
The boy really never was sicker,
’Cause Grampa was not one to bicker.
When he begged for a puff:
“Take 10 since you’re tough!
And here, taste my hundred-proof liquor!”
© Rebekah Hoeft

July/August 2016 Runner-Up
I’m thinkin’ that drinkin’ this potion
Might make me go weak with emotion.
Up here on this deck,
It’s hotter than heck.
A refill? You’ll have my devotion.
© Rebekah Hoeft

November/December 2016/2017 Honorable Mention from the canine contingent
Woof woof arf, woof woof woof arf, woof.
Grrrr, woof woof, arf growl grr grr woof!
Whine whimper, ahhh-ooooh,
Sigh, whimper, grrr — ooooh!
Grrr WOOF woof grr ARF grrr ARF WOOF!
© Rebekah Hoeft

January/February 2017 Runner-up
They laughed and they let her “pretend;”
The boys thought she could not contend.
A delicate flower?
They’d soon know her power;
They’d never again condescend.
© Rebekah Hoeft

November/December 2017 Runner-Up
Walking barefoot on coals? That’s a breeze.
Scaling Everest? Really? Oh, please.
Just try serving feasts
With ravenous beasts
Begging treats while they nip at your knees.
© Rebekah Hoeft

September/October 2018 Runner-Up
Oh, I see you there cheerin’ for me;
You’re so glad ’cause I made it in three.
I don’t know what you mean,
I’ve got no football gene.
I just play for my premed degree.
© Rebekah Hoeft

March/April 2019 Runner-Up

He’s certain that he’s hooked a whale.
He’s stubborn; he’ll fight through a gale.
He digs in his heels,
He spins and he reels,
But all that he’ll catch is a tale.

November/Decemeber 2019 Runner-Up

I'm sorry to bother you, sir.
I know that you might not concur,
But two seems to exceed
What this rocking horse breed
Can hold — I don’t need a chauffeur!
© Rebekah Hoeft

March/April 2020 Runner-Up

You’re curious, dear, why I’m shunning
Your lunch while I make our yard stunning?
A green thumb I don’t got,
But those Joneses are not
Staking claim to “Best Yard” three years running.
—Rebekah Hoeft, Redford, Michigan

I Write Sometimes

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Thankful Thursday: Here and There

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