I do not claim to be a poet, absolutely not. Although when I was 8 years old I entered a poetry contest for children with our local PBS station and won first place. I don't know if it was the pressures of fame, but I didn't write another poem again. Last year while studying poetry for my English class, one of our assignments was to write 3 haiku poems in the proper 3-line, 17-syllable form, so I wrote these.
A Walk on South Temple
Gray walls dark with rain,
The saints look down at me.
The gardens are bursting with tulips,
Red, yellow, pink, orange,
Spring is here.
A blend of sky and sea,
The breeze ripples the water,
And cools my face.
Some time ago, when Tiffany lived here and we had the Writer's Guild, one of our writing topics was to describe the word soft. This doesn't really count as a poem, although I did it in short sentences, so it's kind of poem-ish.
On Sundays I go to Barry and Melody’s for dinner with the family.
My nieces are there – Sierra, Mariah and Savannah.
They’re older now, 16, 14 and 12, but they still give me hugs just like they did when they were 6, 4 and 2. I love it.
When it’s time to go home, I say goodbye to each girl in turn.
Mariah puts her arms around me, lays her head on my shoulder and sinks in.
I hug her tight.
We stay there for a long time.
“This is my favorite part of the week.” I say.
She gives a little laugh and little pats on my back.
“I love you Rudy.”
“I love you too.”
I go all soft inside.
Like I say, I'm not a poet, but for what it's worth these are my amateur attempts at being poetic. Just thought I'd share.