Biography of Connie Yost
I wrote my first poem at age 13 and find myself still enjoying writing them. I hope to have a friend artist do some illustrations for some of my poems- -hope to have them in a book some day. My cat, Doobie, is my inspiration many times, as he is my constant companion when I am at home. Nature and human nature are good subjects for me.
Connie Yost Poems
'She's busy making coffee', said the pup. 'Yah', said the cat, 'she just got up'. 'We all just got up' said the pup. 'Yah', said the cat, 'she's filling her cup'.
Jack Frost is arriving to work in the garden, Then on to the windows and when he's done there, Let's look for his portraits of feathrery frostlings, Lightheartedly rendered with autumnal flair.
Rubicund robin's attention is on those honeysuckle shrubs, Blue bird claims a rain gauge for his launch pad, scouting bugs. Ruby throated hummers find the flaming columbine. In the Russian olives evening grosbeaks come to dine.
I can hear the drum and and fife, Booted cadence throbs the ground. All of earth seems full of life, I'm awakened by it's sound
A trillion assorted snowflakes Are catching and keeping the rhythm, For musically magical, silently sailing starships. And me, I'm sailing right with 'em.
The Tulips Bloom
What a frankly fragile web we weave But then it's not for us to grieve The best of men may take a loss In what is known as albatross.
Whither, Whether, Which
Whither, whether, which, Build a hill or dig a ditch, Whatever your endeavor be, Life is not a certainty.
I'll Dream My Way To Texas
I'll dream my way to Texas Toss my lasso o'r the moon, Watch some cowboys mending fences, Sail around till almost noon.
Come And Walk The Plank
Their live a few, who, wearing shoes, Must walk the weathered plank; A nine foot board of knotty pine, Which bridges bank to bank.
Rosie The Riveter
Hello? This is Kate...Hi Rosie! I thought you might ring me today! Grandma? She's fine, hasn't touched her piano, But today she decided to play.
I am Susie the daughter, I am Connie the kid, I am Ms the widow. I am Kid-o the friend,
A Dubious Boot
There was an old woman who lived in a boot, No children, but lots of cupiditive loot. Down deep in the toe went her dollars each week,
Will I see a big red EXIT, When it's time for me to go? Will I know which door to open, Should I follow with the flow?
She Silently Cries
Somewhere on the plains the stripped tiger cats roar,
Somewhere a young tigress is pacing the floor.
Behind heavy bars and she hasn't a clue,
Confusion and loneliness deeper than blue.
She felt the small stinging blocking her senses,
She didn't know man or high covered fences.
But she knows of them now with absolute fears,
Bequeathed to the plains stay her innocent years.