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Both Ken Landry and Betty O'Kay WOON -1240 colleagues have been writing and creating "imagery with words" for many years-- we would like to share some with you.  You will see a variety of emotions here.   Some are thought provoking, some are sentimental, some are just for fun...We hope you enjoy this page! 

Thanks for visiting!                                                                        

 

Ice Cream Kiss

 

The summer breeze brushed against our faces

as we lazily enjoyed the peace of a New England afternoon.

I held my cone, the chocolate ice cream

dripping on to my hand;

as lazy as the day.

 

I ate slowly, staring

at the little brown haired girl next to me.

I pointed at her

smiling at the strawberry ice cream streaks on her lips.

 

We moved closer, our lips touching

for the briefest moment

the mingling of chocolate and strawberry

of curiosity and nervousness

 

We moved apart

and went back to our ice cream

the day caressing us

the sun watching us with curiosity

 

Though in our young hearts

we didn’t know it

the kiss we had shared

was the first step

 

For each of us one

step in our separate journeys

that would take us into

an uncertain future

 

And though the little brown haired

girl and that lazy summer afternoon

have both slipped into the

past, just a sweet gentle memory

 

Every time I feel the joy or pain

of love gained or love lost

the thrill and excitement or sheer disappointment

of promises made or promises broken

as my dreams become reality

or shatter into pieces;

 

I know it all began

With that one ice cream kiss.

 

Ken Landry

 

 

 

 

 

Her Doll House

 

She looks in, pondering;

gazes

at the tiny rooms

their neat furnishings

 

Two small plastic figures

in a pose of parental love

for a smiling synthetic small boy

and his dimpled little sister

 

She sees the perfection

frozen in infinite time

Leave it to Beaver?

Ozzie and Harriet?

 

She looks enviously

her dreams spilling over

embracing the plastic

family with her mind.

 

Touching her bruised face

with scarred hands

she winces

brushing unkempt

hair from her eyes.

 

Above her

the snarling

face of her mother;

there are chores

to be done

 

Her dollhouse must wait.

 

Ken Landry

 

  Sunset In The Garden

 

Tiny Garden Nymphs

toe tapping to the shimmer

of wind chimes

tittering on the breeze

Twirling and dancing

aloft the

awakening blooms

of the

evening flower.

Hurriedly

ushering in

the nightfall

There is

poetic work to do.

The peach tinted

inlet at twilight

gently ripples

with silvery

westbound eddies.

With a sweep of stardust

an enchanted sprite

invokes

the conversion

of daytime to dusk.

         Once again,

          it is Sunset in the Garden.

 

          B. P. O’Kay

 

 

 

 

 

Oh Drat, That Cat!

                     LOOK OUT BELOW!       CRASH!

 

This one was written for a dear friend of mine –

Jeanne Lajoie (April 19, 1939 - October 30, 2001)

 

Winter Solstice

 

Wrapped in my Indian blanket, I light a fire

and sit alone to watch the winter go by

 

Winter solstice...  “Where the sun stands still.”

 

From my frost-swirled window

I see three giggling young maidens

oblivious to the hostile frozen wind.

 

They stop to catch tumbling snowflakes

upon their tongues.

 

I feel the chill, and pull my blanket closer to my chest.

 

Older now,

I can no longer run and frolic

I envy the children as they play.

                                                 

But, at that moment I realize

my trusted friends are always nearby,

                 

and then I smile.

                                                                                               

I allow the blanket to slump a bit,

and begin to feel a warm glow

Nightfall settles-darkness unravels.

                 

I hear a tapping against my window pane

A dear friend enters and sits beside me.

                 

We share the blanket and the fire now crackling in merriment.

                 

The December wind heckles my clapboards

although its anger I fear not,

I am protected in my small shanty.

 

Among my friends I am kept warm and safe,

and we sit together to watch the winter go by!                              

B. P. O’Kay

Oh Drat, That Cat!

 

Oh drat, that cat- It's three A.M.

 

Green eyes glowing

from the bureau he sat

Feed me please,

or you won't sleep,

I will see to that!

 

With what can I play

to rouse you?

Something that will

make a loud noise...

 

I am nocturnal

and famished too

as I prowl

purrrfectly poised!

 

Oh Wheee

these keys

will "chink" with glee

as they plummet to the floor

 

Then, I'm sure that

you'll get up...

or I'll find something

more!

 

Stumble and grumble

sploosh open the can

Feed him so I can sleep

once again.

 

I don't know why you mumble so

and call me little "pest"

it's ONLY three in the morning,

you still have two hours left!

 

Now, it's time to

"rise and shine"

and while you're 

getting dressed...

 

I'll hop on the bed

prepare for a nap

and savor

my feline success!!

 

 B. P. O’Kay

 
DADDIES AREN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE
 
It was a cold brisk Tuesday morning
 
The sun was rising.
 
You labored so hard in your silent pain for each breath,
never complaining.
 
You held my hand.   I silently cried, but somehow I knew you knew my inner heartache.
 
It was so hard to let you go.  I felt my heart break.
 
Thirty years  to the day, on my wedding day, you gave me away;
you promised you would always be there.
 
Why did you leave me?   It just not fair.
 
Or is that a little girl's dream on nigh?

Love, Maureen Ann

 

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