Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Deep Blue


The human experience is not a shallow sea 
but a deep ocean of possibilities!
Peggy Jo Farr
August 19, 2017

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

A Poets' Diary Response

A Poets' Diary
Photo Challenge...
Please feel free to express yourself, and tell us what this photo says to you.

Image may contain: one or more people

Love holds gently in the stark face of darkness
and with its warmth, lights a path forward.
PJFARR 2017

Friday, August 26, 2016

Waxing Poetic

'Tis that time in the season on the precipice of change.
PJFarr 2016

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Living a Better Version of My Whole Self

A Mosaic of Wholeness
By Peggy Jo Farr
1-12-2016

 Gluing the broken pieces
of my shattered life
into a mosaic of wholeness.


Wednesday, September 30, 2015

demise

there is a haunting in the breeze,
an orchestrating of the leaves into failing, falling, 
and fluttering in the wind rattling at the door of winter, 
demise

PJFARR
9/30/2015


PJFARR
10/5/2010

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Dead Man Walking

Dead man walking doesn’t even know it.
Blinded by his own arrogance and pride, he does not see it coming.
He is a whitewashed sepulcher.

Man makes plans for the future.
Relying on mediums and futurist.
His development halted, building on dead man’s corpus.

Thinking God does not see, nor pay heed to his deeds.
The fa├žade will collapse.
Hollow graves sink beneath the weight of bones.

The second death is inescapable for the damned.

     PJFARR
September 2015

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Grand Dame's Loss of Her Dignity

Rumor said,
 The principal was running out,
 Robber barons lie. 

Build it and they will come, 
Pigs at the trough. 

Casting your pearls before swine, 
Rendering your gems into the mud. 

Trading your soul for sport. 
Bouncing the orange ball. 

What do ignorant men know? 
Money cannot solve all problems!

 Pursuit of what? 
Happiness. 

 Misery of a Grand Dame’s loss of her dignity.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

'Tis Too Early and Too Cold to Write: A Poem

'Tis too early and too cold to write, but the fire within stokes the brain for thought.
Dare, I touch pen to paper and spill forth what is in the mind?
No, I had better get a cup of coffee first and contemplate before marking the paper.

PFARR 2015

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Anticipating a Winter's Day

Waiting for the cold brisk wind, 
snowflakes, 
and clouds racing onward across the angry gray sky in anticipation of the storm.
With weather forecasting one can look forward even to a winter's day.
Why not just curl up on the couch with a good book, 
a cup of tea, 
and the family dog as a foot cozy.
PJFARR
2014

Saturday, August 2, 2014

unrepairable


Standing
in
broken
glass,
shattered,
fragmented,
unrepairable.
PJFARR
2014

Friday, April 25, 2014

'Tis Spring My Dear


'Tis spring my dear, 
What do you say we get out of here, 
I think it is time for an al fresco lunch,
 We can sit on a park bench and munch.
PJFARR
2014

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Poetry Corner



Peggy Jo Farr

Poems Corner12:21 PM
A word or two
I
share with you
I
hope you appreciate it
I
love poetry too!
PJFARR
2014

Friday, August 16, 2013


Cheeky writer.
Rose-colored jowls.
She blushed.
PJFARR
8-16-2013

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

In Search of Time and Space

Where?
Oh, where?
Does the time go?
I never seem to have enough time to read, write, or create these days.
I am searching for time.
Where?
Oh, where?
Is there a space or place for me to read, to write, or create?
I am searching for a space.
Where?
Oh, where?

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Rinse and Spit
Working on a piece of writing can feel like being in the dentist chair:
painful,
wet,
and not knowing if one is going to hit the bowl when one rinses and spits!

Monday, July 15, 2013

A Man Obsessed

Obsessed with another man's life, one does not see.

Clearly, no image to behold in the looking glass.

One cannot see; what one does not possess...his own identity.
PJFARR
2013 

Monday, October 22, 2012

MUSES


Returning the Muses are jubilant!  They have taken great pleasure in their long holiday.  They laugh and clamor about for attention.  Peals of laughter, giggles, and spontaneous acts of exploration and fun have returned.  An air of lightness has been breathed into the abyss and brought life into a once dying soul.

I do not blame them for taking a long hiatus.  If I were one of my muses I too would have taken a long much needed vacation.   It is difficult to inspire someone in a constant negative space.  A black hole tends to suck the light and life out of the atmosphere.  Are you a black hole? 

I am glad they returned in time to see the fall colors, which I am enjoying as well.  This week has the promise of an ‘Indian Summer’.  What a tonic that will be! 

First fruits of their return and inspiration, a poem:  

 Autumn Air

Breathe deep the cool air of autumn.
Exhale the gloom.
Breathe deep the joy.
Laugh with the full moon.
Breathe deep.
Breathe deep.
Rest in a warm blanket of fall leaves until the last quarter moon.

PJ FARR
2012

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

An Easterly Wind

An east wind is blowing,
leaves flowing on an invisible current of air.

Clouds racing,
chasing each other before the rain.

Weather and climate all in flux.

An east wind is blowing.

PFarr
2011

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

In Memorial of Loved Ones

I pray comfort and peace for those who have recently suffered the loss of a loved one.  I have spoken to several people within the last week or so who are grieving.  I understand because I grieve.

The loss of a beloved is difficult to put into words.  They are missed beyond description.  We have a beloved family member who has been gone for more than twenty years and the loss feels like yesterday.

                                       May

May you find comfort from those gathered around you.

May you have God's peace.

May memories bring you joy and laughter.

May you find strength in God for tomorrow.

                                                                     PJF 2011

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

William Wordsworth: Daffodils




I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
what wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude?

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)