A Final Toast - Poetry for a New Year's Evening

As I tick down the minutes

    to the new year

In my comfy jammies

    with my ginger beer

I resist the temptation

    to ask Hey Universe WTF

Why did this prior year

    universally suck

Yes a few did well

    but so many did worse

It's like we were hit

    by some vicious curse

Each day brought a new dose

    of surprise shock and sadness

Taking away yet another bit

    of joy hope and gladness

But not every year's like this

    I know this to be true

So I raise my glass in toast 

    to possibilities anew

Let good change of changed things

    replace all the bad

Let us remember our humanity 

    and all that we had

Let us help all not just some

    achieve all that they can

And bring us to a new place

    For every woman every man

Let us find a place of peace

    without fear or dread

From beginning to end

    in this new year ahead

It can happen I know

    if we can believe

Make this new year one to be proud of

    let's see what we can achieve

                                                       Lauren Swartzmiller (c) 12/31/2025

Thought for the Day - 01/25/25

To Sid

In this world there are no surprises

The moon sets and the moon then rises

Lest you think that this makes sense

Seriously, Dear, you're being dense

Open your mind to that which calls

Beyond your normal homestead walls

In this new place, your muse awaits

Just beyond those airport gates

So go and work, then go and play

Have fun, be safe, be creative, okay

(Apologies to any other readers for this poetic personal message)

My Silly Homage to Spring – Poetry for a Monday Afternoon

I love these flowers with their quirky unfolding and only one night of fragrant bloom, but their hard seed coat make them a bear to get started.  

I scrape, I cut, I stab at your shield
Hoping for just one point where you will yield
I then will drown you for an entire day
In hopes of reaching that heart you keep at bay
I then will bury you because it’s what you need
To take root and grow, my moonflower seed

 © 3/20/2023 Lauren Swartzmiller  

Happy Spring, Everyone.

Summer Wonderland - Silly Poetry for a Sunday Afternoon

 This is what happens when it's 93°F outside and 86°F inside (except in the air conditioned bedroom).

Note, this can be sung to the tune of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland'".  Just follow the bouncing ice cube.

Enjoy.

Summer Wonderland

A/Cs run, are you listening

In the sun, the heat is blistering

You hope for a storm

Cause it’s just too damn warm

For walking in a summer wonderland

 

It’s July, expect a heat wave

That makes you want to find a deep cave

Or a lake or a pool

Where you hope the water’s cool

For swimming in a summer wonderland

 

Hopefully by midnight, it will cool off

To 70 or 80 degrees

Then maybe you can get some decent snooze time

And not have it be a sleep tease

 

Later on, we’ll conspire

To find some fun before we tire

Of humidity and heat

That just can’t be beat

And move to a winter wonderland

Required - Poetry for a Sunday Morning

We walk

Side by side

Our hands skim

No words are spoken

They are not required

We dine

A favorite place

Our eyes meet

No words are spoken

They are not required

We kiss

At our secret spot

Lovers entwined

No words are spoken

They are not required

In our lifetime together

So much has been said

Actions speak louder

But when words are spoken

They are always required

Lauren Swartzmiller

© 02/14/2016

Countdown to Fall – Migration: Poetry for a Thursday Night

Migration

In case you haven't noticed

it's gotten quieter out there

Not so many bird songs 

are floating through the air

The days are growing shorter

and our feathered friends all know

That soon their food will go away

and soon there will be snow

Some will leave and head on south

some will stay on here

But make no mistake they'll all return

To sing for us next year

                                                                         Lauren Swartzmiller

                                                                         © 09/17/2015

Only 6 days until Fall

Winding Down - Poetry for a Tuesday Night

Winding Down

shoes on top of cars

to air the day away

tired bare feet

walk on soft green grass

leaving all stress behind for a while

their soled protectors relaxing too

stretched open on their high perch

in patient wait for their partners’ return

                                                                                    Lauren Swartzmiller

                                                                                    08/04/15

Countdown to Spring: First Day Poetry

March’s Promise

I took a walk

The snow swirled around me

The wind chilled me

I looked up in tired question

Of when it would end

And I saw the sun

Shining through the falling snow

As though it was only

A pane of glass to pass through

Bright and resilient

It challenged winter’s grip

I smiled and welcomed this reminder

Of the season’s change

Being close at hand

Lauren Swartzmiller

© 03/01/2015

Only 19 days until spring.

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Lament of the Unlaboring - Poetry for a Thursday Afternoon

I set a goal this month to write some poetry.  What appeared, as less than perfectly metered as it is, is based in my present lack of employment situation.

But, really, it's the likely the feeling of many, if not all, of the over 9 million unemployed in the United States.  So, while it's not my nicer, more cheery poetic lines this time, it's still poetry people can relate to.

I'll work on something more holiday cheer-filled for next week.

Lament of the Unlaboring

Idled
Unwanted
Abilities abound
Abilities ignored
So many attempts
With no responses
Knowledge and skills of a lifetime
But no interest in any by anyone
I know that I'm special
With so much to offer
But how can I prove I'm worthy of a chance
When I can't be seen among the crowd

 ©12/09/14 Lauren Swartzmiller

Train Ride - Some Poetry for a Thursday Night

This is dedicated to my dad, Jim Swartzmiller, who rode the rails as a fireman in his earlier years, long before a family and programming at IBM came into his life.  But, his love of trains remained constant and it stayed with him for the rest of his days.

Give me a civilized train ride

far across this wonderful countryside

with sights and scenery gently passing by

on quiet, smooth rails before I die

Let me dine on proper plates

on a table properly set

a full night's rest on a pull-down bed

nostalgically comfy as it can get

Yes, it will take longer to arrive where I want

whether a new place or a familiar haunt

but bring back the trains of my youth to me

and let me wear my joy for all to see

                                                                        © 10/16/2014 Lauren Swartzmiller

Subtle Transformation

 

Grey day

No wind

No rain

No birds to break the silence

The green of summer still thrives

But some leaves begin their fall

The change of season begins slowly

Shorter days

Longer nights

We adapt  

We evolve

Lauren Swartzmiller

© 08/02/14

Unsung

This is dedicated to all the people who work without fanfare.


You may see us or not
You may not know what we do
But know that our jobs
Are meant to serve you

We do our work well
Our knowledge and experience complete
And most people don't know
For we are the discrete

We make things go right
In ways that most do not know
Quietly earning our paychecks
And without a big show

We toil in the background
Hands and heads to the task
And a trust in our abilities
Is all that we ask

Our jobs are anonymous
Unheralded in story or song
But if our work is done right
Then nothing goes wrong

                                                                             Lauren Swartzmiller 04/15/14                        

A Soft Day in October

From my poetry archives.  Some have seen it, others have not.  It was written a number of years ago and its muse was the Hudson River.  Despite its environmental issues, it was and is still a beautiful body of water.  Please enjoy.

The geese and ducks
share the river near the shore
among water chestnut leaves
which slowly give way
to autumn’s final call

The tide coming in
the two flocks paddle gently
to maintain the place chosen
to rest and wait almost impatiently
for skies to clear

Fog veils the water
and a cold gentle rain falls
hastening the trees’ shed of leaves
their golds and browns
mixed still with green
gently defying the season

The sound of the birds is gentle and low
a moment of peace and grounding
before the call to flight
sounds once more
for all to obey

The flap of wings now
a drying move
a gesture of restlessness among the leads
The groups mingle for a minute or two
traveling comrades sharing a common moment

In but a short time they are gone
impatient for Nature to cooperate
The day is still grey and rainy for those left behind
but the reality is softened by this memory
of grace and beauty along the river’s edge

© 1999 Lauren Swartzmiller

My Inner Child

My inner child still runs with scissors
jumps barefoot into puddles
looks for rainbows after storms
and falling stars on clear nights

Still howls at full moons
gets lost on purpose
explores every nook and cranny
and comes home when good and ready

Still laughs at simple silly things
has tantrums for absurd reasons
doesn't want to go to bed on time
and will cry herself to sleep

Still tries to get along with everyone
minds manners and is courteous
questions everything that seems wrong
and won't stop asking why until there's an answer

Still believes that most people are good at heart
will defend others against those who aren't

has trouble understanding adult thinking sometimes

even when it's mine

                                                          Lauren Swartzmiller
                                                          1/2/13

Night Skies

I used to look up in wonder
At the sparkly white things in the night sky
They were all stars, that place that was Heaven
And then time began to roll by

They became constellations, named for things that we knew
The bear, the scorpion, even someone’s belt
The learning had begun and the science was fun
But it was changing how I felt

To the child, they didn’t seem that far away
If I was tall enough, I could touch them
And counting them wasn’t easy, but it could be done
All the stars over my house in one big sum

But the adult now knows that they’re not close by
And they’re not just over my home
They’re all around us, everywhere
No matter where and how we roam

With the years, our universe gets bigger
With the years, our knowledge has grown
And we’ve learned that we’re miniscule compared to it all
And there’s still so much yet unknown

Yet I still look in wonder at the night sky
At the planets and suns I now know are there
And the novae and the quarks all disappear
To the child without knowledge or care

Lauren Swartzmiller
© 2012