POEMS: A bad night at Bingo
BINGO
I went to Bingo to try my luck.
I hoped I'd come home with the "gold I struck."
I took my daubers, my pillow and snack.
I carried them all in one big pack.
I went to the window to pay my fee and
picked out the cards meant just for me.
I took my seat and sorted things out and
hoped Lady Luck and I would shout!
Soon it was time to start the game.
People were excited and glad they came.
The caller was ready and eager to go
Tension was high and talking was low.
I needed one number to hit the jackpot
I held my breath, talk I could not.
I raised my hand, ready to shout
Someone yelled BINGO and that took me out!
Then I went home all broken and sad
Worst night of Bingo I'd ever had.
I'll have my daubers, pillow and snack and
Next week for sure I'll be back.
LINDA COOK
Haines City
SPRING! WELCOME, OLD FRIEND
Here in Central Florida, we’ve had record breaking hot days
Our winter was very mild and the signs of spring everywhere, arrived early
Late February and early March, the beautiful Amaryllis and hedges,
started blooming with various reds
Trees, exploded with tinges of green as small leaves appeared
in a flurry
Spring awakened old memories of my youthful days in Iowa
My grandparents lived near the woods where spring brought
early Dutchman’s Breeches and Bleeding-Heart flowers
Wild asparagus, so tasty, grew in the ditches along gravel, country roads
And the delicious Morel mushrooms, hid in their secret places, we
searched for hours
Spring, with her special look and smell wherever you live
As winter, regardless of its uncomfortable fury, finally fades away
Spring, how welcome you are, how important and timely we greet you
Knowing full well, those great days called summer, will soon be on display.
DENNIS C. ORVIS
Winter Haven
THE SPIT AND WHITTLE CLUB
Sixty years ago, when I was a kid,
I lived in a small town, the county seat,
With the courthouse located in the mid-
-dle of the town’s central square. It was neat!
On Sundays, sometimes, I would watch old men
Sitting on the outdoor benches found there -
Spitting, whittling, telling tales how they’d been
Wheeler-dealers when they were young and fair.
No one sits on those benches anymore,
But old men still shoot the bull just like that.
If you want to see them, just go explore
A McDonald’s, mornings, where they sit pat.
This Sunday they have already begun.
Today’s topic: “What I did with my gun …”
ROBERT P. TUCKER
Lakeland
SOME SENSE OF AUGUST
Hear the bell?
We're back in school
Feel the heat?
We're in the pool
Taste the salt
We're by the sea
See the breeze
Move through a tree?
August is a month
To be
Hearing
Feeling
Tasting
Seeing
Leo and Virgo
Running free
JEANNE RASCHKE
Lakeland
Send original poems to features@theledger.com
This article originally appeared on The Ledger: Locally written poetry
