Here's Another

     Via a social online network, sister Lela asked if I had written yesterday's poem.

      Why yes, I told her.  It was my blog, who else would have written it.

     She then called me a smart something or other and said I could have copied it.

     I informed her that if I had done that, without reference to the author, someone would sue my smart something or other and I'd be in a whole heap of trouble.  

     The kids jumped in on the conversation and said they were going to have to separate us or put us in one of those big tee shirts, until we could get along.

     Fun times online.  

     I used to write poetry when I was in high school.  I used to write poetry for my husband, that lucky duck, they must have won his heart.  Then for some reason, probably life getting in the way, I quit.  I didn't write poems or much of anything else.

     Now I'm writing again and it has been one of the best decisions I have made in a long time.  Maybe it's the Blood Moon, but I seem to be in poem mode, so here's one more.

Cry of the Working Human

Eenie meenie minie moe, 

who gets paid today.

The bills keep coming to our door,

 but there's more of them than pay.

We work and struggle through the week 

to keep the roof over our head.

But by the time we get home, 

we just want to go to bed.

We hear the leaders of the day 

spin the same old tired yarn.

That we need less and they need more, 

were they all born in a barn?

With both doors of the barn wide open

 they spin our dollars to gold.

Then give it to some idea that fails,

 that story's getting old.

We try to spend our dollars wise,

 but get caught up in the trend. 

That a new gadget, phone or such,

 will be our new best friend.

We spend what free time that we have

 running kids up and down the road.

One wonders if we'd be better off 

to just stay at our abode.

Maybe we should and take the time

 to enjoy the things we miss.

If we sat back and said "ENOUGH!" 

perhaps we'd find true bliss.

But the simple basics costs are high, 

so there's more work to be done.

If we weren't trying so hard to stay afloat,

We just might have some fun.  

By Ruthie Reeves and if you like, you can find me on Facebook.