Oct 28
Beneath the rubble I could see bricks peeking through and my mind began to wander
Was there more underneath?
Perhaps an entire home was buried here
Who had lived here?
What had happened?
Perhaps it was an earthquake that rumbled years ago
Had the people survived?
Were their souls lingering here amongst the bricks buried beneath?
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #103.
Apr 22
The following children’s poem was written in response to Crispina’s weekly challenge.
There’s a tree in the field where squirrels love to play
The trunk is partially hollowed out, come with me to see it today
I’ll introduce you to my friends
You’ll see that there are ten
A family of squirrels that all have names
They are friendly and quite tame
Mama likes to sit on my boot
She really is such hoot
Squirrel Daddy
Never treats anyone badly
Then there is Fuzzy whos never bathed
He was very stinky the other day
The eldest girls name is Pearly
and yes she is squirrely
Next, there are the twin’s Skippy and Slappy
They’re so much fun and always happy
A flying squirrel whose name is Rocky
His mama says he’s quite cocky
Another male, that’s quite burly
Due to his tail, his name is Curly
Abby is my favorite girl
She loves to whirl and twirl
The last of the ten is named Sandy
She’s always asking me for candy
Please come along with me today
Meet the squirrels who love to play
© Susan Zutautas 2020
Mar 11
The following poem was written in response to #Crimson’s Creative Challenge #70.
What lurks beneath?
Perhaps something with very large teeth.
Will it bite me if I look to see?
Will it bite me in the knee?
Maybe it’s friendly
Maybe it’s deadly
I don’t wait around
Time to leave this town
Running as fast as I can
Back to my van
Mar 4
Grouchy and Greta Gnome were just waking up from a long winter’s nap.
“Grouchy, look at this mess, what are we going to do?”
“Oh, Greta, come on, I just woke up, let me focus on getting my eyes open.”
“Where did all these empty old pots come from?”
“Would you stop worrying about everything Greta and go find me something to eat, I’m starving.”
“Well, it sure doesn’t look like there’s anything to eat, it’s that time of the year, the misses has not planted anything yet.”
“Good thing I thought about this last fall. If you dig around a bit you’ll find my stash of peanuts in the ground just over there about ten feet to your left.”
Off Greta toddled to find Grouchy some nuts mumbling to herself as she went. “Why is it I always have to be the one to go fetch food for the old grump. Greta do this, Greta do that, I’m not his damned minion.”
After digging up the peanuts and taking them over to Grouchy, Greta started to tidy up the garden as best she could. She wasn’t getting any younger and each year that went by her colour was fading. So was Grouchy’s but it never seemed to bother him. Perhaps this Spring the misses would get out her paints and spruce them both up.
“Greta, Greta, if you want any of these peanuts you’d best get over here before I eat all of them. On your way over find me something to drink.”
Grouchy, I’m not your minion and I’m tired of fetching for you. Get your own drink, and stuff your peanuts!”
To Be Continued …
© Susan Zutautas
This was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #69.
Feb 20
The following was written for Crispina’s weekly challenge called Crimson’s Creative Challenge.
CCC#67
Once profitable
Now sits sadly abandoned
To be dismantled
Dec 4
Watching for his meal
He sits high upon his perch
Ready to take flight
This majestic bird
Has a wingspan of eight feet
Powerfully fast
Lives up to twenty
A natural carnivore
Can easily swim
This haiku was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #56.
Oct 23
This was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #50
CCC#50
The gates are locked
please let me in
Don’t leave me standing
I must come in
It is my time
please set me free
Don’t leave me out
please let me in
I know I’ve sinned
please don’t rescind
Open up the gates
please let me in
Here I will remain
waiting and anticipating
For the gates to
open for me
Heaven is where
I want to be
Oct 2
Brilliance of colours
Shine through stained glass reflecting
yellows, blues, and reds
This was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #47.
Sep 25
The hill was steep
You couldn’t hear a peep
Till we rolled down the hill
Like Jack & Jill
Giggles and laughs
we looked back at the path
To where we started
Our butts really smarted
Then … one of us farted
This was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #46.
Sep 18
This poem is for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #45.
Standing on the shoreline I gaze across the river
The day is chilly but yet I stay put and shiver
Daydreaming with memories of my childhood
Of all the times when I’d come here to collect driftwood
The water back then was always choppy
We’d ride down to the river in my father’s jalopy
I come here now to reminisce
Here is where we had our first kiss
So many wonderful memories
Over half a century
This has to be my favorite place
Memories that I’ll always embrace
