A Lady in Making

A Lady in Making

My Welsh daughter is a lady in making,
whose feelings have grown larger
than the fields we rode
high in Brecon Beacons.
And whose mind and heart are deeper
than the swaying sea at Swansea.

by Sabio Lantz, Oct 6, 2016


Prompt:  Today in Wales (and the rest of the UK) it is National Poetry Day.
So I wrote this quick morning poem for my lovely fourteen-year-old daughter today.  A few years ago, the two of us couch surfed through southern Wales (the land of my great grandparents) and had a wonderful time.  Since then, my daughter has felt a special connection with Wales — and I with her.

A Cat

A Cat

neither of us are cat fans.
our prejudice is blindly fueled
by our itchy skin and runny noses.
but come on,
their finicky independence doesn’t help.

yet we have met cats that surprise us,
like the grey tigress that followed us
on our sweet evening stroll.

cautiously following, became walking besides us,
became rubbing up against us,
became prancing ahead —
as if she were proudly walking the cute humans.

we took a chance and sat down on the sidewalk:
she purred right up to us
even if only in a cat-like-way.

we were touched,
but after many blocks, just 5 houses from our own,
she stopped cold and did not put
likely it was where her territory ended and another’s began.

adventure and opportunity
can be stifled by the silliest of things.

— by Sabio Lantz, September 2016


Prompt:  Open link night at D’Verse Poets Pub

A Clerihew Hullabaloo

A Clerihew Hullabaloo

Jesus of Nazareth
built quite a labyrinth,
for those with holy ambition,
to get lost on their cloning mission.

Siddhartha the Buddha
scorned “Hallelujah”
promoting navel staring
to pursue a red-herring.

The average person
is well converse in
many ways of self-deceit
to package their own cute tweet

— by Sabio Lantz, September 2016


Prompt: Gayle at d’Verse Poets Pub challenges us to write a “Clerihew”: an aabb rhyming couplet scheme of comic verses addressing biographical topics of the person mentioned in the first line of the verse. And so I wrote this three-part Clerihew which addresses the fact that we all take ourselves and our heroes much too seriously.

Missionary Kids (MKs)

Missionary Kids (MKs)

My college world was rocked
when I met MKs who shared
languages, sights, smells and tastes
that my midwest suburb knew nothing of.

But it was the geography of their minds
wherein I got lost and fascinated:
They helped me question
things I had long taken for granted.

An MK gal from India
joined me for several cafeteria lunches
until I had the nerve to ask her:
“Do they belch in India during meals?”

“Oh,” she said, chastising herself with a shake of her head
that only Indian women can pull off naturally.
“They told us to be careful,
Westerners feel belching is rude.”

And there was my friend with whom I planned room next quarter.
His Evangelical parents raised him in Taiwan,
where his heart became a mix: Buddhist, Taoist and Christian.
On discovering this, his Baptist girlfriend dumped his tormented soul.

Riding my bike home late, a train was stopped on the tracks.
I waited a long time before just climbing over it.
Only later did I find out, it was the train that my friend,
had calmly laid down in front of to end his confused life.

by Sabio Lantz, September 2016


Prompt: Open Link Night at d’Verse Poets

The Cow’s Eye

The Cow’s Eye

I’d tilt, twist and turn the jar
but the soulless cow’s eye would hide
rolling in the formaldehyde.

Not a blink, nor a wink.
Snakes, lizards, starfish
and embryos of all sorts
from my father’s collection
taught me more than I wished to know.

— by Sabio Lantz (August 2016)

Prompt: Björn, at dVerse Poets Pub, challenges us to write a “Quadrille” — a poem with exactly 44 syllables and to use the word “jar” within the poem. I think I counted correctly.


Embracing Spills

Embracing Spills

When milk spills,
plans fail,
or hopes are dashed,

We can cry and sigh,
scream and shout,

or look for opportunities:

for sweet cream floating on the chaos,
for EN to jump out and dance,

and passionately embrace embarrassment
until our dreams twirl again.

–by Sabio Lantz 6/13/16


Prompt: Whimsygizmo, at d’Verse Poets, prompts us to write on “spill” with a 44 word poem (a Quadrille).




Peeking from behind a sneaky  tree,
my mind’s eye dances with naughty glee
as I watch our happy long-lost king
dance with his dog and joyfully sing.

                            — Sabio Lantz, April 2016


Prompt: Lillian, at d’Verse Poets, challenges us to write about “fantasy”.