Summer Shoes

Summer Shoes

Don't restrict me
          hold me in
          force me to point
          bend my bones
          force me to hobble
          twist me til I strain
Don't cramp my style.

Let toes breathe easily
         wiggle unhindered
         feel the wind and rain
         be embraced by sand
I want to be free.

Fashion of my own making
         let me live
         until I die
         and then bury me
         in my Tevas!

This is written for the Poetry Jam prompt:  Shoes.

Life As It Is

Wikimedia Commons

Life As It Is 

Life is nebulous

possibilities bleak

I cut myself deeply as vision dims

timing is everything, yet nothing

I desire touch but there is none

phantoms hover above me, crush my spirit

an opaque blanket covers me

hides me from the blazing torch

I bury myself beneath the slab

and take my final breath.

Submitted for dVerse Open Link.  I used words from The Sunday Whirl.  (However, I did not submit it for the Sunday Whirl.....in fact almost didn't publish it at all, as it resulted in such a 'dark' poem.)  The words that Brenda sent us in order were  nebulous, bleak, cut, vision, timing, touch, hover, crush, opaque, blazing, torch, slab, breath.  My challenge to myself was to use them in the same order.  It did not make for a very upbeat poem..thus my hesitation to blog it....but it is what it is!

Mother's Day Feast

Chap Chae

Bulgogi

Mother's Day Feast

Kimchi

and bulgogi

served with spicy chap chae

Mother's Day meal par excellence

no all-you-can-eat buffet can compare

with cooked-with-love Korean meal

missing were the chop sticks

but please bring more

kimchi.

This was submitted for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads where Grace challenged us to write a Rictameter (2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4, 2 syllables) & also submitted as a second submission for dVerse Poetics where Kelvin challenges us to write something Asian-related.  I would not have come up with the idea for this poem if it had not been for Kelvin's prompt & wouldn't have written it in this form if it weren't for Grace's prompt.

Bangkok on the King's Birthday

Some of the crowds in Bangkok on the King's Birthday.

Note people with pink shirts - king's favorite color.

Decoration - Palace in Bangkok

Reclining Gold Buddah

Bangkok on the King’s Birthday

I can't lose sight of my group

must keep my eye on the guide,

the man waving his red flag 

above the crowd. Keep walking 

no matter what.  I can't get lost. 

When the guide says cross the street, 

I weave between cars driven by crazies

who  follow no rules. I rebuff fear to

survive. My heart pounds, excitement 

blends with fear. Don't falter. Move.

We sweep through the streets 

with a  throng that extends in all

directions and moves as a wave.

There is no escape from the horde

this day all Thailand celebrates

with fervor, especially here, Bangkok.

It is the King's Birthday, a national

holiday with parades and revelry,

Car horns blare.  Bells ring. Sellers

hawk wares. Locals wear shirts

of pink, the king's favorite color, 

wave yellow flags as they shout.

I stroll through the grounds

of the ornate Grand Palace with

its numerous elaborate structures 

adorned with gold, red roofs,

ornate spires, but always keep

my eye on the red flag ahead.

From out of nowhere a group of

school children heads right into

me.  They shove as they press 

in the opposite direction. I resist, 

use my elbows as ram, keep my eye

on the guide’s distant red flag.

I know I must not panic, wedge 

my body between members of

the advancing  throng, forge an 

opposing path.  If I fall, I’ll be trampled.  

If I lose the guide I’ll never find him 

again. I continue to push forward.

At last I outmaneuver the crowd

reach the peaceful spot where 

our guide awaits.  Safe. Secure.

We make our way to see the

gold reclining Buddha. Inhale

exhale, I relax in his golden calm.

I wrote this a couple years ago, but it seems to fit Kelvin's "Asian" prompt at dVerse today; so I decided to share it.  Being in Bangkok on the King's Birthday was quite an experience.  I would compare it to being in Paris on Bastille Day, for example.  The crowds were horrendous, and we just kept being swept along following our guide with the red flag, not wishing to become lost or we would not have been found again!      Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry #150.

My Place in the Universe

Solar System (Wikimedia Commons)

My Place in the Universe

My place in the universe

is to touch as many people

as I can in as positive

a way as possible.

If I succeed even partially

I will be happy

If I am remembered

I will be grateful.

This was written for Verse First where Kim's prompt was "A Place in the Universe."

No Crystal Ball

The Crystal Ball - Robert Anning Bell (public domain) - 1900

No Crystal Ball

She said she wanted to travel when she was young
to accumulate memories to summon when she grew old.

She travelled the world, stored memories for a lifetime;
but didn't figure on not living past her prime
nor on not being able to remember at the end.

If only she had had a working crystal ball
I know she would have travelled even more.


For     Poetry Jam where the prompt this week is "crystal" and also for   dVerse Open Link.

My Mother's Flowers

My Mother and Me

 My Mother’s Flowers

Every Memorial Day weekend we journeyed to the greenhouse

to pick out flats of petunias, geraniums, and marigolds 

to plant around our home and also for the gravestones

of the two cemeteries where my parents’ deceased were buried.

Stooping over the soil with her shovel, hand digging holes,

Mother artfully arranged geraniums, marigolds, and petunias

and an occasional coleus in her front yard flower beds.

As a child, I often found my mother standing with her garden hose,

watering her flowers before the rise of the strong morning sun.

I knew not to disturb her then, as this was her time.

Time passed. My mother could no longer care for flowerbeds. 

Her eyesight dimmed year after year, blindness was inevitable.

Instead she planted flowers in large pots on the front porch.

It was important for her to grow flowers.

Then one day when my mother was almost blind

she awoke to find her flower pots stolen.

Gone were the plants that had been her pride,

the only reminder of her gardens of yesteryear.

The thieves stole more than flowers from my mother,

they stole her desire to grow them.  She never had flowers again.

They had been all that was left for her to nurture.

Nothing more to care for is a very sad thing.

I am sharing this with Poets United's celebration of Mother's Day today.  It is not a new poem.  I wrote it before I blogged.  However, this is the poem I wanted to share today because it is a poem that means so much to me and still brings tears to my eyes when I read it.

's

Violet

Violet when she was much younger!

Violet

A color I had no affinity for
until we named our eldest Violet
and now I love the color
how she fits her name
and I also know now
perceptions can change.

Violet


This is shared with Kim's prompt "Violet" at Real Toads.
Thanks, Kim.  Violet sometimes gets overlooked.
I am glad she has some recognition here.

Temptation

Fall of Man - Lucas Cranach the Elder

Temptation

Temptation is different today
no apple offered by a serpent

it can come in a corner of a bar
with someone else's wife

or a little extra money for a favor
under the table no one will know

and its just so easy to go
into a dressing room and
wear new shirt under your own
and walk right out smile on face

Temptation is different today
when the party is going strong
and you know you had enough
but more is offered and you take

or you know the truth but don't tell it
write a paper using someone else's notes

find someone's wallet filled with cash
and the blackjack table calls

the serpent has changed his ways
Temptation is different today.

This is written for dVerse Poetics where I am tending bar today, and the topic is TEMPTATION.  We hope to see you there!  

Empty Nest

Empty Nest

I contemplate my second empty nest

time for granddaughter to go off to school;

for five and a half years I have been blest.

Our  relationship was so meaningful;

we laughed, she learned to read, we walked, we played.

Our weekdays together were never dull.

Memories of these times will never fade;

I know she'll always remember them too.

For her well-being I have always prayed.

To childcare days I must bid my adieu.

I will have more time for myself I know,

but still I would love them to continue.

Children are born, then they thrive, and they grow;

but when it is  time we must let them go.

This is my attempt at writing a Terza Rima Sonnet for Tony's "Form for All" at dVerse Poets Pub.

Bee-friend our Bees

Beatrice the Honey Bee

Bee-friend our Bees

Colony collapse disorder is affecting bees
Pesticides and herbicides are killing them
Bees are our friends, we depend on them
to pollinate our food supply, and if bees
continue to die at their present rate
and the crops that we depend on
also die for lack of pollination
it cannot be long before humans  follow.

This is written for the Poetry Jam prompt The Buzz on Bees.

The bee death situation is a major problem.  It frightens me, as our food supply depends on honey bees.  If you are conversant on this horrendous worldwide problem of diminishing honey bees, here are a few articles to start with:    Are Honey Bees Endangered by Gmo Crops? and Soaring Bee Deaths in 2012 Sound Alarm on Maladay.

Friendship

Basil

Friendship

One day I had a human friend,
next day I didn't.
Dogs are not like that.



This is written for  Verse First at Poets United, where the prompt was "Poetry Heals."  Sometimes the healing comes from writing. Sometimes from acknowledgment.  Sometimes from the passing of time.

Spring

Tulips

Spring

First tulip that emerges
is always the most
beautiful of the season.

----

After a hard winter,
There is nothing like
the feel of the warm earth
between my fingers
at flower planting time.

-----

Why is it that the nasty
crow has the loudest call
and the peaceful robin
little voice at all?

----

Not all trees have budded
I wonder if some ever will
I wait, watch, and hope
Winters are harsh, life fragile.

----

Spring grass is always greenest, not
baked by the mid-summer sun. Newly
emerging it reminds me of life's renewal.

-----

Spring season, every day better
than the day before, every day greener,
more colorful flowers appear, eggs laid,
babies born, hope reappears each year.


These short spring poems are shared with dVerse Open Link!   At last I think it is here.

Fears

A noise in the night
someone trying to jimmy the door
the dogs are barking
what do they know that I don't?

The doctor's office
I fear a fatal diagnosis
something irreversible
no cure, find out I'm right.

A telephone call
hospital has my daughter
serious accident and she's not okay
they tell me I should come now

There is turbulence
I see fear on flight attendants' faces
suddenly the plane drops
and drops and drops.

This was written for Mindlovemisery's prompt: Fear.  These ARE real fears of mine.  None of these have happened.  But one never knows what will happen tomorrow.

The Koala

I was this close to a koala once
during the day when it was dozing
in a Eucalptus tree at Taronga Park Zoo.

These marsupials  live solely in Eucalyptus trees
eat about two and a half pounds of leaves a day
or I should say at night, as they are nocturnal.

Eighty years ago they were hunted
and their population greatly declined
but today they are gaining ground again.

A koala may look cuddly and sweet
but we were warned not to touch them.
I was thrilled to see them so up close.

This was written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads where Hannah had us writing about animals of the tropical rainforest.  These photos were taken at the Taronga Park Zoo in Sydney when I was in Australia in 2007.   I would love to go back.  I love Australia for many reasons.  Oh, the koala is classified as a threatened species, not endangered.  It faces threats from both urban expansion and climate change.

Disease

Disease

Disease respects no one
you are handed a death sentence
you hope you are the exception
you do all the right things
you eat right, exercise
you have the best treatments available
you keep a positive attitude
you know you will be the exception
you are certain you will beat your sentence
you pray
you die

This is written for Victoria Slotto's Meeting the Bar.  If I understand the prompt correctly, it is to write about something we firmly believe in our own style.  I firmly believe the above.  And I believe I have written in my style.   I am trying to adjust to a Mac computer.  I can't figure out how to link dVerse here in my blog.  It is a learning curve for me.

I am also submitting it to Imaginary Gardens & Real Toads Words Count with Mama Zen, where we were challenged to write a poem with 45 words or less.  Again I cannot provide a link here.  

Take Hold

Take Hold

If the brass ring comes your way

grab it and don't question why;

your destiny has arrived

an opportunity not to be missed,

there may not be another.
 

Reach out when you can

and hold on to that ring for your life.

Don't let the opportunity pass

unless you wish to live with regret.

forever.

 

 

This was written for Poets United Verse First where the Kim's theme/ prompt was to make a deeper truth known in fewer than 13 lines.

Soaking

Sunrise (Wikimedia Commons)



Soaking

 

Soaking in the sun

on a bright spring day

makes my heart dance;

my body yearns to play

Soaking in the Son

puts my soul at rest

gives me peace of mind

when I'm put to the test.

Soaking in the sun

I smile from ear to ear;

after such a long winter

warmth brings needed cheer.

Soaking in the Son

I am surrounded in love

warmed in any season

by a Dove sent from above.

 

This was written for Alan's prompt "soak" at Poetry Jam.   We hope you will join in!

Spring at Last

Granddaughter and two of my three dogs

Spring at Last


There is something about a spring day in the park
with my five-year-old granddaughter that is special
and reminds me to appreciate the simple moments
when the most important thing is to play.

There is something about a spring day in the park
that helps me keep my priorities in order
there is time enough for life's complexities
when the order of the day is not to play.

There is something about a spring day in the park
that makes me remember other springs of the past,
other times when I resolved to renew life again
when and only when play concluded for the day.

This is shared with dVerse Open Link.(Thanks for hosting, Grace.)  I am a later participant today, as I really WAS in two parks today with granddaughter and dogs.  At last I think spring has arrived. The photo was taken today after we returned home.  My 'baby' Basil is the one staring straight ahead.  Tulip is Behind.  My granddaughter is obvious. LOL.  I really do believe in the importance of play, don't you?

House

Wikimedia Commons

House

 

The house I enter is a nightmare of this house.

It is dark, quiet, and the lights do not work.

I trip over objects that are not here,

meander through a maze of oblivion where

nothing that should be here can be found.

I smell incense which no one burns.

The doors creak but never open,

frozen in place amidst screams of  spirits released

when the cable does not work and the circuit breakers

continue to trip as the serpentine extension cord

snakes through the hallway, rears its orange head,

hisses at me.  I run down the stairs that

are not here and drown in the lake which

is where the basement no longer is.

Why do I tell you these things?

I'm not even here, nor are you.

 

This is shared with dVerse Poetics, where Karin is tending the bar; and we are writing "trip" poems!

Voice

Voice

Gradually it happened -
                     she lost the ability to speak

she who had spoken with great confidence

she who had spoken with great knowledge

she who had spoken and brought others joy
she who could also listen to others as no others did

until it became harder and harder to form words
                     until it became impossible

                     until she was left with total silence -
                     totally voiceless.

This is written / submitted for Poets United Verse First, where the prompt is "Voices."
Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Robin

 

 

Robin

 

Early spring robin dreams of rain and ground teeming with worms;

robin does not analyze but enjoys the ordinary.

We can learn from the robin to savor life as it happens.

 

This poem is a Sijo, a Korean form written for dVerse Form For All.  Click the link for more information presented by Sam Peralta.  Anyone who has read my poems recently knows that robins have been on my mind.

No Good-Byes Necessary

Source

 

 

 

     

No Good-Byes Necessary

 

The way to begin is always the same. Hello,
Hello. Your hand, your name. So glad, Just fine.

 

Greetings, handshakes, smiles and intentions,

plans intended but never carried out, calls never made,

hopes that budded but never blossomed, suspended

in limbo of  timeless space after hello.

We take our children to the park every day and

talk to other people with children of the same age. 

We tell a few stories. The kids go to the same school.

Let's get together, take our children to a movie, to swim

We'll call you.  Or you call us.  In a week or two. Sure.

We go to a party and meet some new people

share our experiences, laugh, want to see them again.

Do you like plays?   So do we.  How about biking?

We'll call you.  Or you call us.  In a week or two.  Sure.

We work thirty years for a company, walk the hall

with the same people every day, then retire. 

Let's not lose contact.  We've worked together a long time.

We'll call you.  Or you call us.  In a week or two. Sure.

No good-byes necessary.

 

 

Shared with Real Toads - Prompt:  Hello / Goodbye

Carry On

Wikimedia Commons

Carry On

When you stumble
or when you fall
don't be discouraged or disheartened
pick yourself up and walk on
as everyone falls sometime.

We just have to carry on.
We just have to carry on.

If everyone gave up when they fell
there'd be no progress at all.
as people oftentimes learn
from the blunders they make
what to do differently next time.

We just have to carry on.
We just have to carry on.

If evil abounds all around you
seems to have an upper hand
keep your eyes on the horizon
with your hopes intact as you
keep moving undeterred toward your goal.

We just have to carry on.
We just have to carry on.

This is written for Poetry Jam this week, where the prompt is "Carry On."

Hope

Wikimedia Commons

Hope

Even in a bad year apple trees bud and bloom
apples grow firm, round, red, heavy
fall to the ground to scatter more seeds.

Even in a bad year grass rebounds from dormancy
takes in water, greens, thickens
blankets the ground with promise

Even in a bad year baby robins hatch, peep
are fed by their mothers until they grow
and can spread their own wings and fly.

Even in a bad year children are born
cherished, nourished as they smile or cry
bearing aspirations of the future

Even in a bad year the cycle continues
dreams are born and lived
Even in a bad year there is hope.

For dVerse Poets Open Link.

Joy

American Robin

Joy

Sun shines bright today

so at last

robins sing - gleeful.

 

Robins prance and strut

as rain falls;

they prepare to feast.

Green appears at last

robins dance

they dig deep for worms.

 

This is a series of Kelly Lunes (5-3-5 syllables) written for  Sunday Mini-Challenge at Real Toads.

 

Spring



Peach Trees in Blossom - Van Gogh (public domain)

Spring

Spring comes eventually everywhere

           and in its own way
here it arrives with wind and hail
cheerless skies and unrequited dreams
          of sun that resides somewhere (where?)

without the warmth with winter coats and mittens

fireplace still blazing chill from the air

it doesn't seem possible as I shiver

that it is mid-April with weather like this

but nonetheless spring comes as it will
on its own chosen day and cold or not
we know the world will green and warm
sometimes one just has to trust.

This is written for dVerse Poetics, where Claudia is tending the pub today and we will be celebrating spring (which is elusive here).      Also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Surreal

Surreal

 

Manhunt is over

suspect in custody

the terror is over

after one long day

normalcy can resume

for Boston and environs

(but can it ever?)

and people can melt

softly into sleep tonight.

 

Submitted to Real Toads, where the prompt was 'the melting.'

The Answer

The Answer

 

 

Hard to face another day

when sin and evil abound

and we wonder where it will end

whether heart and mind will mend.

 

But love is the only answer

and rising up is the only choice

and even when we think we can't

we must, we simply must.

 

 

This is written for Kim's prompt at Poets United Verse First.  The prompt is Wake Up and Love.

On Friendship

On Friendship

I would be honored if you would be my friend
trust me and let me walk with you for a while;
I will not hurt you with my words or a weapon,
and in fact I have no weapon.

You are larger than me and have sharper teeth;
if I am willing to trust you will not harm me,
I hope you will accept my friendship
and we will be friends for as long as I have.

I must be honest, I will not be here that long;
but while I am here I will be the best friend ever
and even though you will be sad when I am gone
it is better to have had a good friend one time.

Someday you will remember something beautiful,
someday you will remember me..

For Poetry Jam, where we were to write from the point of view of a fictional character. This is written from the point of view of the Antoine St. Exuperery's The Little Prince, one of my all-time favorite books.. The Little Prince wanted to become a friend of the fox; but the fox was hesitant. The Little Prince persisted. A quote from the book: "It is a good thing to have had a friend, even if one is about to die. I, for one, am glad to have had a fox for a friend........"

Monster

Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

Monster

 

A scary monster lurks

in a lightless corner of your basement

behind the boxes in your attic

in the shadows outside your window

in the blackness of a deserted street

but there is no monster more fearsome

than the monster who lurks within.

 

This is written for dVerse Poetics where Brian has us writing about monsters.  (If I am slow coming around in response, I am dealing with a 'nasty bug,' and I will eventually make it but may not be as prompt as usual.)

Gray

Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

Gray

 

 

Today's world is gray

as was yesterday's

as will be the world tomorrow.

Gray sky, gray clouds,

gray cold rain dampens my mood,

saps my energy,

holds me hostage

within its unrelenting grasping

and laughs when I beg

for release and promises

more of the same.

 

This is written for Poets United Verse First, where the prompt is "colored."  The color most visible in my world at the moment is gray!

Dementia

 

Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Dementia

 

She could take it no more:

cruel remarks, put downs

criticisms, the fear.

 

She was tired of smiling,

apologizing when it was not her fault

trying to understand

painting on a happy face

when he constantly

demanded, demeaned.

 

Yes, she understood

it was hard for him;

but he understood nothing

of how hard it was for her

as the pendulum kept swinging

toward the point of no return.

It was harder and harder

to stifle her screams.

 

So one day she emptied her pockets

of memories of what had been,

realized that for better or worse

love was a past tense verb;

 

and with her own stash

she did what she thought she'd never do --

fled to the station,

boarded the first fast train

heading in the opposite direction

and didn't look back.

 

Written for Poetry Jam where the prompt is "What's in Your Pockets?"

Just Once

 

 

 

Just Once

 

Sometimes I think I know

too much about myself

spend too much time

studying every thought

and every movement

the scent of my skin

pitch of my voice

blink of my eye

biting of my lip

rhythm of my step

and after a while

I tire of the word "I"

and want to scream

a swear word LOUDLY

into the heavens

just to prove

I am not ME.

 

This is written for dVerse Open Link.

Nothing

Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Nothing

 

I woke up early

with nothing to do,

wondered what to do

on a day I had nothing to do.

I couldn't think of anything

so I did pretty much nothing,

Time passed fast doing nothing,

as I stretched it out as long as I could;

it is amazing how much time nothing takes

when I really have time to consider it.

How exciting nothing is

as I concentrate on nothingness,

savor the smell, the taste,

the feel, the total experience

of nothingness, leaving nothing

to my imagination at all.

 

I have been doing NaPoWriMo quietly.  This is my poem for Monday, April 8.  I am up to date so far. It is not written for any prompt.  Probably few will discover it, as I will not link it anywhere.....but if you, I thank you for the read.  It has been a nothing sort of day.  Some days are like that.

To Begin, Begin

 

William Wordsworth

To Begin, Begin

 

 

To begin, begin,

do not hesitate.

You can change course later

without taking a tailspin

as you travel along the way,

but if you sit and do nothing

opportunities will stray

and you won't have an opening
to life's grand cabaret.

It is better to start

with something

than to be satisfied

with nothing

and bemoan your fate

and ruminate on

what you regret

but cannot appreciate.

 

This was written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.  The prompt was to choose a quotation from William Wordsworth.  I chose his quotation, "To begin, begin."  I do think Wordsworth had the right idea.

Albert Schweitzer and the Dog

Albert Schweitzer's Official Nobel Peace Prize Photograph - 1953

Albert Schweitzer and the Dog

I've brought my oldest friend to see you

because I feared my friend would die,

a barefoot old man with a tear-stained face

stood in front of Dr. Albert Schweitzer.

Schweitzer asked where his friend was,

and the old man turned to a straw mat

which held a large blood-encrusted dog.
covered with a bloody blanket.

Schweitzer briefly examined the dog who had

been accidentally shot by hunters,

then transported by small boat by the old man

for two days against the rushing current.

The dog was then taken to the operating theater

where the dog soon breathed its last breath, and

Schweitzer was left with the task of telling
the man his friend was alive no more.

We will bury him for you, Schweitzer said,

as the man sobbed like a boy in pain, and

he was sent back to his village with provisions.

When Schweitzer returned to the operating theater

the dog and soiled sheets and bloody sponges

all had been thrown by another doctor in the trash

Schweitzer exploded, Have you learned nothing? 

Do you have no feeling even for the spirit of friendship

between this animal and the old man? Bury him on the hill.

Schweitzer believed there was dignity in life

and dignity in death, even the death of this poor dog.

He went to sit next to the river, exhausted and alone.

 

This is for dVerse Poetics, where Kelvin is having us write anecdotes.  Also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

 

This is a true story.  Information and other stories about Albert Schweitzer can be found here.  Schweitzer was a man of many talents.  He was a theologian, an organist, a university professor with a degree in philosophy, and a medical doctor.  At age 37 he and his wife went to Gabon, Africa, where he opened up a hospital.  He stayed there for the rest of his life caring for people who had not had access to medical care before he arrived.   He is one of the people I most admire.

Crucify

Crucify

 

Crucify your mind

it happens

after a while

you pay no attention

life goes on.

That is the way it is

just as it was

with His crucifixion

which mattered to

only a few.

 

This  was written for the Real Toads prompt Crucify Your Mind.  It probably will receive as little notice as Jesus' crucifixion centuries again, but I think you who do speak to it in some way. The poem may not make a lot of sense unless one reads the original prompt.

The Irony of it All

The Irony of it All

 

I love to shop;

it's my favorite thing to do.

To wander a department store

is heaven to me.

Nothing more fun

than looking at clothes.

Lusting for latest styles

brings me close to ecstasy,

but it's heaven when I determine

what to actually try on.

I visualize myself a movie star,

sexy and desirable and fit,

as I look in the full-length mirror

try to decide what to buy.

Yes, I love shopping so much,

 almost as much as I enjoy
an invasion of a swarm of mosquitos.

Victoria Slotto presented an interesting article on   irony at dVerse Form For All.  I had a hard time deciding what to write about. I finally came up with a subject.  If you comment, feel free to comment on my poem  itself, or share how YOU feel  about shopping.  Is it pleasure or pain?

Body of Evidence

 

Body of Evidence

 

 

The body of evidence showed

Jennifer was shot to death by her husband

while on duty Christmas Eve.

At first Jennifer's name

was not going to be inscribed

on the memorial wall

in Washington D. C.

for police officers killed

in the line of duty

because it was said

her death was domestic violence.

But support within our state swelled

and the decision was reversed today

and Jennifer's name will be inscribed

on the Memorial Wall because

she was working at the time she was shot.

Protests can change things.

It is a small thing really for Jennifer,
but I am glad her name will be listed.


The decision was announced today.  Here is the article:  Slain Officer Jennifer Sebena Will Get Her Name on the Memorial Wall.  This happening, on Christmas Eve, saddened our entire community.  Her husband is jailed.      This is submitted for Poets United Verse First (where the prompt is 'body').

Home Run!

Wikimedia Commons

Home Run!

 

Summer meant baseball when I was a kid,

afternoons or evenings listening to the games

with Dad in his car in the hot driveway,

windows open to let heat flow through.

My dad explained the game, and

as the announcer called balls, strikes,

hits, stolen bases, home runs, outs

I visualized the exciting unseen.

And when there was no game

I studied the  baseball statistics

followed batting averages,

standings, traded baseball cards......

....or played softball with others in the street,

imagining the roar of the crowd when

I ran the bases after I hit a home run,

throwing my cap victoriously into the air!

 

 

This is submitted for dVerse Open Link.  I was reminded of these childhood times after watching the Opening Day game yesterday.  I don't really follow baseball much any more (am more into football now), but there really is a bit of nostalgia about baseball for me.....and I can still name the players and their positions on the team my dad and I listened to when I was a kid.

The Scream

 

The Scream by Edvard Munch

 

The Scream

 

 

A crack can shatter

a castle of glass

into a million pieces

life is like that

a small crack

can deepen

a n d      w i d e n

until

eventually

there is nothing left but

a loud scream

followed by a

whimper.

 

This poem is written for Poetry Jam, where Alan's prompt is to write a poem using Linkin Park's song "Castle of Glass" as inspiration.