Words for Fun Play or Pay


***** A Post Per Day or Ten?

Getting our ducks in a row
absolutely, always will show
that we’re after perfection.

At this site, a post per day
is always a sensationally good way
to strike a positive, productive cord.

Is ten posts per every day
the very best successful way
to build an Internet stock of words?

To have the brightest success
without creating a messy mess,
a writer must be able to stay.

To speed a writer’s happy day
to a fabulous, worthwhile pay,
must ten posts happen regularly?

I’m short the goal of ten, I’d say,
every day of each week I play
on WordPress with my keyboard.

If I were to succeed without pay,
play through each day and stay
at this site, a writing rainbow I’d see.

For without those awesome connects,
and considering comments that affect,
still I’d be short that silly ten per day.

I’m happy to follow, comment, and say
WordPress is the only satisfactory way
on the Internet which to daily write.

With my ducks in a row in my own way,
I’m still going to be short a bit of pay;
short that ten posts per day by a million.

Is ten posts per day the only way to
bring in the traffic, and the best woo
we have to ring up the very big pay?

If so, my ducks won’t align, but be small
compared to the strict wording law,
and $100 a day I’ll be short by a zillion!


Poem and Photo from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg



Poem for Heady Dragonfuss: A Kite


***** Heady’s Flight

We thought we could: we thought
Fly a kite, yes, we definitely ought!

The kite, months ago bought, now unwrapped
Was a dragon’s head and small body entrapped.

Sun shining bright, wind whipping high
Made us declare, “Oh, let’s try!”

Into the car we three friends jammed
Amid packaged colors of kite closely crammed.

Kite’s crinkly crepe papers upon my lap piled;
Its yellows, greens, and blues remained undefiled.

Pam in front, Jane steering the quick miles,
While I in back, said, “Check this dragon’s style!”

We three were years since our younger lot,
Long since given past to marriage, kids, and pots.

Why now the cheering urge to fly and soar?
We knew, laughing, reciting unfulfilled family lore.

From car window to high sky our eyes fairly roamed;
We gasped, seeing the great white clouds like sea foam.

Car and pals rumbling to the flying field,
We were certain the sky and clouds would yield.

Could our bright dragon kite reach those heady heights?
A name, we hailed, for our object of potential flight!

“Heady!” Pam shouted, “for his wieldy head.”
And “Dragonfuss,” I said, “for the hassle if he goes dead!”

From the car onto the flying field we tangled,
Heady Dragonfuss among us, almost mangled.

Yards beyond the stone drive of the field of flight,
Heady’s wide, purple wings held folded tight.

We sprawled on the grass with parts of kite
Spread before us, a colorful, intimidating sight.

We assembled hooks and lines, labored with struts,
Tape, a silver reel, and a package of “What’s?”

Heady’s glaring eyes, black and round, were the parts
Of his design making us giggle: “Big as carts!”

Parts bonded, fastened, Heady was alive,
His mouth open, wings spread wide.

Eyes shaded against the sun and bright sky,
We ran, launching string to push Heady high.

Instead, crepe flew unfurled, a glassy eye popped, revealed
Pieces of Heady lying unassembled upon the field.

Dismay overcame mute surprise at knowing
Heady Dragonfuss’s parts all were showing.

Hooks and lines, wings of loose struts, all unreeled;
How could all Heady’s parts again become healed?

All the while, winds increased their mild gales.
We shouted, shifted, laughed like wild males.

Sitting upon the grass, silly over wings, struts, and glass eyes,
Bearing watching by arriving flyers more learned, wise,

We refastened struts, reeled in line: eyes wide
With childish wonder we soon thought to hide.

Heady was alive, blue and green and yellow,
Black eyes inserted, mouth open enough to bellow.

But would he fly? Ought we, really, to try and try?
Were we doomed to fleeting highs and long, sad cries?

Again, string to girder, plastic to multi-colored crepe;
Spirit and hope, not to cause Heady a faulty scrape.

Wind high, we cast Heady’s line up and off;
Gathered running strides, threw him aloft!

At each hearty launch, Heady failed to catch air,
twirling, twisting down; we called, “Don’t tear!”

Again and again, we tried; running, holding him high,
Until, collectively, we cried: “Dragonfusses cannot fly!”


Poem and Sketch from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg

Poetry for Flag Flying Days

There are 20 dates in 2014 on which Americans can officially fly their flags in recognition of their countrymen and the United States of America. January 1 is the first day of each year on which to officially honor the Stars and Stripes.

Three flags fly at Veterans Park at the Bridge in Napoleon, Ohio. They are the State of Ohio (left), Old Glory, (center), and the POW-MIA (right), which gives recognition to Prisoners of War and those Missing In Action.

Three flags fly at Veterans Park at the Bridge in Napoleon, Ohio. They are the State of Ohio (left), Old Glory, (center), and the POW-MIA (right), which gives recognition to Prisoners of War and those Missing In Action.

*****Flying Old Glory

There are birthdays,
Washington’s and Lincoln’s,
which are Presidential;
we fly the flag, our beacon,

for them and all who the
Oval Office have occupied,
raising Old Glory so to
not ever side, or hide.

In February, we celebrate
their birthdays on two days,
February 12th and 17th, but
recognize all, as we may,

and give January 20th to
the junior Martin Luther King
alone; he whom we honor
singularly. He, also, let freedom ring.

In May is VE Day.
On the eighth we
remember those all,
without saying “me”.

Mothers of our hearts
we celebrate on a day
in May, too. We treasure
their quiet, guiding way.

Armed Forces Day, Memorial
Day; those are reflective times
that bring tears and new
fear to old, dwindling minds.

Flags of Our Fathers combine
in June on the 15th and 14
in honored debt we cannot
repay; only do we honor more.

Labor Day, VJ Day, Patriot Day!
Ah, these see Old Glory reign!
And we, free and eager to
remain, celebrate on that train!

The labored freedom train chugs
to Columbus Day, Elections
Day, Veterans Day, and ends
at Thanksgiving Day connections.

Once again, in December, we
remember, solemnly, a day of infamy,
a day surpassed, joyously, with
a new Christmas and Epiphany!

Flag flying days in order of date in 2014 include the following:
January 1 — New Year’s Day
January 20 — Martin Luther King, Jr. Day
February 12 — Lincoln’s birthday
February 17 — Washington’s birthday (observed)
May 8 — VE (Victory in Europe) Day
May 11 — Mother’s Day
May 17 — Armed Forces Day
May 26 — Memorial Day
June 14 — Flag Day
June 15 — Father’s Day
July 4 — Independence Day
September 1 — Labor Day
September 2 — VJ (Victory in Japan) Day
September 11 — Patriot Day
October 13 — Columbus Day
November 4 — Elections Day
November 11 — Veterans’ Day
November 27 — Thanksgiving Day
December 7 — Pearl Harbor Day
December 25 — Christmas Day



Poem and Photos from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg

Riot Diet


***** Riot Diet

I wanna be much more less of me,
and tomorrow I’m gonna start to try.
I don’t wanna die a heavyweight,
and I’m not gonna tell you a lie.

I wanna stuff in more white bread,
but I’m not gonna give in to spread.
I wanna be much more less of me,
and I’m gonna start drinking tea.

I wanna be like those thin ones over there,
and I’m gonna be ready for high sacrifice.
I don’t wanna live like an ugly glutton, so
I’m gonna button down on the thin advice.

I wanna get back to my high school weight,
and I’m gonna be the perfect, shapely mate.
I don’t wanna carry these extra pounds, so
I’m not gonna be an excessive eating hound.

If I’m gonna be me for eternity and more,
then I don’t wanna cook for you at all.
Matter of fact, I’m gonna find a new loving you,
and I wanna do it even if it’s a major brawl.

I wanna, and I’m telling you very plain,
so don’t think I’m gonna sit around blue.
I wanna step away from all temptation,
and I’m gonna do it if I have to eat glue.

I wanna be as clear as these fabled lines.
I’m gonna learn a new fatless way to chew.
I wanna be thin by the time I’m twenty-one, so
I’m gonna have this diet done by eight. Whew!


Poem and Photos from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg

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***** Mothering

Nothing is about holding on.
All is about letting go:
You know.

Could I hold,
I wouldn’t scold.

Could I screen,
I wouldn’t scream.

If my dreams for you
could be true,
I need not be blue.

If all were pure joy,
you would simply be
My Toy.


Poem and Photo from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg