Tuesday, April 24, 2012


By Polly Guerin 4/24/2012

Procrastination is the fault
Tomorrow I’ll do it!

I’ll volunteer for something
Take piano lessons or sing

And how about that course
I planned to register but lost

Out on life’s destiny moment
Even maybe write a sonnet

But I’ll do it when I retire
At least before I expire

Yet, one day I’ll do it!!!

One day turned into a week
You see I’m becoming weak

One day turned into a month
Procrastinating I was sunk

One day turned into a year(s)
Now there are so many tears

The days, the years pass so fast
The opportunity did not last

Don’t put things off and off
Let your creativity soar

It’s not too late, get started,
Be glad, not downhearted

Decide to do it “Now
Watch everyone say “WOW”!!!

Thursday, April 19, 2012

SYMPHONY OF THE CITY (c) By Polly Guerin

The city hisses, belches and moans

No pity for pedestrians who roam

About their journey in unending noise

Gives us cause, don’t panic but poise

Yet, the tiny sparrows chat a dusk
Great storytellers chirping with lust

In a constant search and forage
Within the empty concrete forest

The honking traffic floats up to my window
Ghastly sounds interrupt dreamy venue

Yet, the great seagulls tour the skies
Up from the river I hear their cries

The fire engines blare their grim warning
Piercing even in the wee hours of the morning

Yet, the black crow from the park nearby

Complains Caw Caw, then off he flies

Every week there’s a crash on the corner
Taxi and car, you bet, someone’s a goner

Yet, the little oasis by the Church middle
A trickle fountain plays its sonic fiddle

Isolated plugged-in people in the crowd fade
Ignoring blossoms in the gardens on parade

Yet, Cherry blossom trees sing a pink serenade
With golden and red tulips dancing in the glade

A little feisty dog with a stupendous bark
Rips through the quiet soundscape park

Yet, a grey squirrel embarks solo on the street
A Brownstone city dweller I have yet to meet

The only wild animals are the pedestrians
Their backpacks whacking in all directions

Yet, some days the sun shines like a prism
And releases us from this noisy prison

Where the sweet sparrow’s chirping song
Reminds me, Alas, this where I belong.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


Blazing yellow forsythia dances into spring

Row after row the first bushes rise and sing

The state flower of Brooklyn, New York

Forsythia borders houses, field and fork

In the road forsythia ambling on declares

Its place in parks, cascade rocks beware

Wildflowers a riot of rainbow colors emerge

Blooming first a 'beauty blossom' is so rare

In the bloom of spring butterflies take flight

Spreading their happy rebirth now in sight

While busy builders birds build nests

To fledge their young and do not rest

Till the work is done a song is sung

And the leaves burst from slumber

Bursting forth green and cherry blossom

Pink drifting over forest and city streets

Renewal, rejuvenation, rebirth such joy

An explosion of blooms now deploy

Reminds us, marvel at nature's beauty

A gift bestowed without any duty.