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Charlotte Ballard
Charlotte Ballard Poems
| 281. | She Said Yes | 10/9/2005 |
| 282. | A Mother's Day Poem | 2/7/2006 |
| 283. | Invocation To The Muse | 2/7/2006 |
| 284. | Juvenile Poetry: An Adolescent Cries | 3/30/2005 |
| 285. | My Head Aches | 6/3/2005 |
| 286. | Curiosity Killed The Cat | 1/12/2006 |
| 287. | I Never Had A Mother | 7/20/2005 |
| 288. | It's Too Late | 9/19/2005 |
| 289. | Two Cats Warm | 3/30/2005 |
| 290. | Battle | 3/30/2005 |
| 291. | Sleigh Ride | 3/30/2005 |
| 292. | Betrayal By A Child | 3/30/2005 |
| 293. | Social Commentary - More Of It: A Prophet's Price | 4/19/2010 |
| 294. | A Promise Meant Nothing | 11/2/2006 |
| 295. | Jelly Babies | 10/9/2011 |
| 296. | Lessons In Elocution | 10/26/2008 |
| 297. | Tangled Hair | 10/9/2011 |
| 298. | Washing Dishes | 10/9/2011 |
| 299. | Weather Vane | 7/12/2012 |
| 300. | Forgotten Popcorn | 8/31/2006 |
| 301. | My Only Song | 3/30/2005 |
| 302. | Aids | 7/30/2005 |
| 303. | Burger King Poet | 3/30/2005 |
| 304. | Mr. Goodbar | 3/30/2005 |
| 305. | A Two-Minute Poem | 7/13/2005 |
| 306. | Cleverness | 3/27/2008 |
| 307. | Stubborn Teachers | 10/9/2011 |
| 308. | Ode To Pizza | 3/30/2005 |
| 309. | Playing Cards | 3/30/2005 |
Comments about Charlotte Ballard
Playing Cards
I don't have much
That I can claim-
Just an old brush
With half the bristles gone,
A toothbrush, a clean shirt or two.
One jar of soap given, I think
As a present
Two Christmases ago
By some women's group
That brought fruity punch-
Not the beer we'd asked for.
I could all fit it
In a child's shoe box, this big,
I'd guess and, oh yes,
My playing cards
A blue rider deck
With a few edges bent back.
I stuck my cards
Down deep in my pants when Charley
Wouldn't stop. He pleaded softly
With fish-cold eyes and quivering ...
Insomnia
Night wanders in
And coils around my leg-
Meowing up at me, to
Scratch it's back-
And search for fleas
My eye twitches as I
Pluck the night and
Fling it into the first
Burst of dawn.
Some people are never happy unless they are complaining about something.
Makes me wonder if they have some kind of cult somewhere that we don't know about.
Great words, Charlotte. Very easy for me to relate to. Poetry as a comfortable chair.
You are in my friends list.