Five, Seven, Five

My blog is empty.

I'm still in vacation mode.

Writer's block galore.

No fun anecdotes,

Bad pictures, video blogs

Or stalker stories.

No tale to tell you.

No sarcastic spiel to share.

Nada. Zip. Nothing.

I thought and I thought

And then I thought even more.

What will I write today?

And then it hit me.

Silly Abby, write Haiku!

That's my cup of tea!

Source

Haikus are fun, see?

They are short, sweet and stylish.

Writer's block be gone.

Though they can be weird.

A mishmash of syllables.

With nary a rhyme.

Floating applesauce

Dim the lights and ring some bells

Penguin monkey hat.

But it is working!

Creative juices flowing.

I'm back to blogging!

Thanks to you, Haiku.

And your silly poem-y ways.

Abby Gabs is back!

Dear Santa: An Abby Gabs Christmas Poem

Dear Santa, it's that time of year 

When letters grace your door,

Each asking for so many things,

Especially toys galore. 

There are a hundred tiny things

That'd make my Christmas merry.

But there's just one thing on my list

That would be the sundae's cherry.

You see, St. Nick, I have these shoes

I've worn for five whole years.

They are the bestest shoes of all,

But now I'm shedding tears.

These shoes of mine, they have some holes

And tears and rips and scratches.

And even though I'm good with thread,

These shoes need more than patches.

I've left my shoesies out all night

In hopes that elves might call

And fix them up as good as new,

With brand new soles and all.

I've stapled them, and sewn them up

And tried my hand with glue.

I've searched the shoe stores high and low

And all of the internet, too.

But the photographic evidence

Speaks truly of their fate.

Dear Santa Claus, you know it's true

Though I dearly dearly hate

To throw them out with Tuesday's trash,

But I have no other choice!

Unless you'll grant my Christmas wish,

And then I shall rejoice!

Could you please send an elf or two

To my house Christmas Eve?

A patched up pair of ballet flats--

What a present to receive!

Or maybe you could work a little

Special Christmas magic.

An elven spell, some fairy dust

To aid my shoes, so tragic.

Dear Santa, all I want this year

Are shoes that don't have holes!

Or rips or tears or splits or cracks

Or places for my toes!

If you could find it in your heart

(It would be oh so great!)

To send me a brand new pair of shoes

(They're ballet flats, size 8.)

Eulogy

My grandmother asked me to write something for my Pappaw's funeral yesterday. It was impossibly hard to write it, and even harder to read it. I waffled between poetry and prose, searching for just the right words, pondering over meter and style and rhythm. 

I cried.

And I finally wrote from the heart. 

It's rough around the edges. It's not exactly profound. It's nothing that will ever win an award or rock the world of publication. It's not really poetry, it's not really prose. 

But I was proud to share it with my family. Proud to honor his memory in my own little way. Proud to be asked, and prouder still to deliver. And today, I share it with you.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

For Pappaw

We remember you today.

Your heart, your smile, your laugh.

We'll close our eyes and think of you

Safely wrapped in angel wings

Surrounded by snowy clouds

And warmth and happiness and love.

We honor you today.

Your life, your service, your memory.

We'll close our eyes and think of you

In uniform, all pressed and dressed, 

Your shiny shoes, your mile-wide grin,

A young man off to war.

We're missing you today.

Your presence, your eyes, your being.

We'll close our eyes and think of you

At birthday parties, sleeping sound,

Your festive hat askew,

Children playing at your feet.

We celebrate you today.

Our husband, our father, our friend.

We'll close our eyes and think of you.

We'll hold you close and think of you.

We'll lift you up and think of you.

Forever in our hearts.