On a Hawaiian Island


If I were stuck on an island

I’d like to have you by my side

Our days would be like a dream come true

With no one around, just me and you

Think of the things we could do

Exploring taking in all the views

A new life we would have to build

My love, think, oh what a thrill

Playing in the water

Like two sea otters

Soaking up the sun

Doesn’t it sound like fun?

Feasting off the seas delights

Resting under the stars at night

Fall in love all over again on an island

Please oh please let it be Hawaiian 


My poem is written for “Finish the Sentence Friday” Blog Hop, hosted by Janine’s Confessions Of A Mommyaholic  If you’d like to join in on the fun follow the link.

Stars – Written in Haiku Style

By European Space Agency (ESA/Hubble). Credit ESA/Hubble in any reuse of this image. Full details at http://www.spacetelescope.org/copyright.html (European Space Agency (ESA/Hubble)) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Illuminating
Twinkling through the night so bright
Glorious beauty
Lights for all to see
Sky aglow from down below
Majestic stunning

I’ve Tried

I don’t know what to do

How am I supposed to get over you?

I’ve tried and I’ve tried

Thinking of you makes me cry

But you’re there … in my face

You’re there every place

That I go … I don’t know

What to do

To get over you

Cause I’ve tried and I’ve tried

You’re in my dreams

Almost every night

I wake up in the morning

Wishing everything was alright

But it’s not, and I’m tired

I’m tired of thinking of you

So go away, go away

Is all that I can say

Leave me alone

Don’t bother to phone

Adios, goodbye

And I’ll just keep on trying

To get over you
I have a tune in my head that goes along with this and wish I was musically inclined. Country song perhaps 🙂

On The Streets of Montreal

My inspiration to write this poem came to me one day while I was on Facebook. A dear friend and poet whom I’d met on HubPages, Vincent Moore, had mentioned that he was having a bit of a dry spell as far as writing. Both of us are from Montreal, and anyways the one thing I always think about when I remember back to my childhood is Montreal Smoked Meat Sandwiches. Sure you can get these delicious sandwiches other places but for some reason they just don’t taste as good as they do at Schwartz’s or Reubens’s.

This poem is dedicated to one of my favorite poets Vincent.

Montreal Smoked Meat on Rye
Source: By chensiyuan (chensiyuan) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0
On The Streets of Montreal

On the streets of Montreal
Restaurants call
Smoked meat sandwiches
Dills on the side
Of course served on the best rye
Don’t make me beg, don’t make me cry
Mustard slathered with affection
Heated to perfection
A little fat deep inside
Makes my mouth water
With anticipation
Pile it high pile it high
How far do I have to drive
To satisfy my cravings
For such a delicious creation
I can almost taste it
I am aroused
Your aroma drives me wild
I need you now
Smoked meat how I desire you
© Copyright 2011 Susan Zutautas


Locked Away

 

A poem I wrote on how I imagined my father was feeling when he had to spend the rest of his life at a veterans hospital due to dementia and Alzheimer’s, after having a stroke.
Vincent van Gogh [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Lost Alone Sad and Forlorn
Lonely Depressed and Full of Mourn
Wondering how he got to this place
Was what happened such a disgrace
How could a stroke so easily provoke
His freedom from society to be revoked
Always waiting for the phone to ring
For the doctor to say release him
All he wants is to return to his home
He hates being here hates being alone
The days for him are all the same
They never ever seem to change
At times he accepts visitors with anticipation
But then sends them away with pure frustration
Wanting always to be unconfined
Never to happen only in his mind
Sitting in silence with the curtains drawn
Everything of importance is now gone
Sleeping away the nights and the days
The only escape till he passes away
© Copyright 2011 Susan Zutautas

Thursday Morning Turmoil

I arise at six to start my day
Maybe I can actually write something today
Coffee in hand I log onto to search
Sitting comfortably upon my perch
My sons alarm goes off and I hear him move
Coming downstairs with his guitar to groove
Picking and strumming and playing so loud
Wishing he would just go and jump on a cloud
I am trying to read as I had searched up a topic
But this young rock star’s making my mind myopic
I finally give up and hide in the kitchen
To start a new mission
Washing last nights dishes
With some ambition
Everyone finally leaves and I sigh
The house is now empty just the dogs and I
I sit back down  with such delight
Today I will just write and write
The dogs want out and are barking at the door
Up I get again once more
Back again for a third try
My computer crashes
I just want to cry
I reboot.. login and read once again
The dogs are now barking outside at their friends
Up again I get and think
Will my day ever begin?
All is now quiet as I write this poem
The dogs are now sleeping and I can begin
To try and start a new poem and hopefully win