No Time Like the Present


The day after yesterday
is when I’ll begin.
I’ll take time to play
the day after yesterday–
nothing will stand in my way.
With a giggle and grin,
the day after yesterday
is when I’ll begin.

P. Riggs

Written for Poetic Bloomings Prompt 351 – The Day After

Remember To Play



grow up
don’t forget
how much fun it is
to run and skip and jump and hop.
Because one day you might ask yourself, when did I stop?
Tie a string around your finger
if you think it helps.
Bottom line,
just please

P. Wanken

Written for Poetic Bloomings Prompt #93: The Children’s Hour 


Are you looking after your feet people???

(Photo credit: Nina Matthews Photography)

(a shadorma)

Tiny toes
point up to the sky –
legs pumping,
hair flying –
I can do it! Finally
swinging on my own.

P. Wanken

Inspired by Margo Roby’s Tuesday Tryouts: Your Inner Child. Also posted for Day 94 at “100 Days of Summer” — click here to go to their Facebook page.

Ode to an Old Friend


Just when I think you will never arrive
and your absence from me is felt down deep
the clock on the wall finally strikes five
your arrival nearly brings me to weep.
Not one more minute at work will I stay
now starts my sixty-three hours with you.
Our time we will have to read, write and rest
cooking, cleaning will defer to our play.
And as our time ends, my mood will turn blue
because, my dear, Weekend, you are the best.

2011-04-29 6:30 p.m.
P. Wanken

written for Poetic Asides poem-a-day challenge
Day 29:  write an ode

a loss of knowing

a loss of knowing

she rides
with cards in the spokes
and colorful strips of plastic fluttering from the handlebars
tangles of long, brown hair flying freely and wildly behind her
for the moment
all is right with the world

she reads
sitting carefree in the pasture
resting comfortably against Dotty, the spotted pig
lost in a world of Ma & Pa on the prairie
for the moment
all is right with the world

she writes
in the corner of the classroom
using her best handwriting to tell the story
even drawing pictures to match
for the moment
all is right with the world

she hides
in silence she protects herself from being known
feelings are pushed aside
passions have died
for too long
all is not right with the world

when did it occur?
this loss of play
this loss of passion
this loss of knowing
when did she forget who God made her to be?

she writes
in the quiet apartment
her cats curled up, sleeping soundly next to her
she listens to the heart of God
while tapping out her words on her computer she remembers
and once again, for the moment,
all is right with the world

2011-01-06 12:54 a.m.
P. Wanken

dedicated, with deep gratitude,
to the One who created me
and the one who has helped me remember

Click here to listen to a recording of this poem on!