Click here to edit title
Click here to edit subtitle
Daffodils ~ Romance #11
Daffodils yellow and Buttercups mellow, springing up freely on green grassy hills.
How I do love thee and find thee so lovely, huddled together in masses of frills.
Some to take home to my mother so fair, I know she will love them and keep them with care;
the rest left to brighten the hillside with glee, afire in the sun, blooming happy and free.
© 2012 Karen Beukema
Pink Tuffet ~ Romance #10
Little Miss Muffet sat down on her tuffet, but not with her curds and whey.
With no spider around and with nary a sound, she quietly ponders this day.
Alone, but not sad, she's just wistful a tad, and dreams while a mist saunters by.
Her color is pink ~ for it helps her to think of pleasantries calm as the sky.
What will this day bring? Just a bird on the wing, or a visit from friends far away?
It might 'not' be dull like the typical lull she fills with her own games to play...
© 2012 Karen Beukema
(2 color versions)
Butterfly Kisses ~ Romance #9
Butterfly kisses, a rainbow of wishes; light gentle breezes that waft through my hair.
Billowing clouds tinged with pink, blue and purple; sunsets of wonder, so wistful and fair.
Long lazy days ~ for the summer still lingers; I'm in no hurry to bid my adieus ...
I love moonlit evenings, a stroll in the garden, a boardwalk, a beach, or a cafe's millieu.
© 2011 Karen Beukema
A for Apple ~ Romance #8
A is for Apple ... when I learned to read
B is for Boy ... in his brown and blue tweed
C is for Candy ... he offers to me
D is for Daring ... should I ask for three?
E is for Everyone ... milling around
F is for Festival ... at the fairground
G is for Glances ... this boy sends my way
H ~ my Heart skips for the rest of the day!
© 2010 Karen Beukema
A golden leaf, a wistful sigh ~ an ode to grief, a time to fly
Another year, another past ~ a winter drear, the listless massed
Should I be sad? ~ the leaves depart ~ Should I be glad? ~ Such vivid art!
The moon is high, the moon is low ~ from blue to white to soft cocoa
The seasons change, and so must I ~ 'tis not so strange to ponder why...
This day is filled with promise ~ the sky is crystal blue.
I wear a frock of flowers in such pinks of pretty hues.
I'm doing nothing special, but special I will feel;
so feminine, so dainty, like a 'lady' so genteel.
I'll wander in my garden, for who knows what I'll find;
perhaps a serendipitous discov'ry could be mine ...
© 2010 Karen Beukema
My sister is performing in the local Swan ballet,
my brother is a quarterback and on the field today.
My mother paints her canvas with a sea of colors bold,
my father plays his Mozart on piano strings of gold.
My cousin's singing solo at a benefit tonight,
my best friend's on the balance beam, a gymnast lean and light.
OKAY ~ so I have 2 'left' feet and just can't throw a ball,
I only draw stick figures, I am tone deaf, prone to fall ...
but something that I CAN do well is primp before my mirror,
and prance about in roses pink on fabrics oh-so-sheer!
© 2010 Karen Beukema
Mama takes a deep breath, and Grandma wants to cry,
they tell me I am growing up and both begin to sigh.
"A 'little lady', honey, is what you'll soon become.
It's time to learn to be genteel; try not to look so glum!"
I'd rather be out climbing the very highest tree,
instead of dressing up in frills and learning to take tea.
Alas, there is no option but to listen and obey,
but just as soon as it's all done I'm OUT the door to play!
© 2010 Karen Beukema
Summer lingers in September ~ such a pleasant month to be
lingering in my flower garden, fragrant beauty soothing me.
Dreaming 'neath the noonday sun I spy a drifting butterfly,
busy bees still gath'ring nectar, ladybugs still crawling by.?
Minding time is pointless here within these walls of quiet rest;
I linger long, without a care, enjoying the Summer at it's best.
© 2010 Karen Beukema
Blushing Rose ~ Romance #2
In Italy, in Tuscany, I find myself in awe ~
this is the place that Grandma met and married my Grandpa!
The sun, the fields, the vineyards fair, the lakes cerulean blue,
the music of a foreign tongue, and streets with charming views;
the crusty breads, the olive oils, and fresh Gelato cold,
the linens white, the amber lights, and oh, the flow'rs so bold.
The fetching stares of swarthy boys that tend the grapes by day,
are costing me a bashful blush, a momentary sway;
my cousin takes my hand in hers and off we run ahead,
I catch my breath, compose myself, so grateful to be led!
© 2010 Karen Beukema
I'm going to a party to see my best friend, who plays with me often in games of pretend.
Imagining pirates on treasure hunts rare, or fending off giants and dragons in lairs.
I'm all gussied up in a polka dot dress, though, really, I'm not one that tries to impress.
I much prefer pants and don't like to be coy, but I hope my friend likes it ~ you see ... he's a boy!
© 2010 Karen Beukema