The Night Sounds Like a Murder

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The Night Sounds Like a Murder

The night sounds like a murder
or maybe it is just my fear
that what I thought was the worst
is only the beginning of 
the time of terrors

I wonder about the stillness of night
who is out there planning revolution
how many guns are being purchased
by people who stole the flag
and constitution

The night smells like a murder
do you smell the fires burning
see flame tongues dance in the dark
know they inch closer to my door
I hear the crackle

Yes America breaks my heart
I should say it has broken my soul
evil laughs arise from old white men
as they set fire to all that is sacred
behind closed doors

The night sounds like a murder
or maybe it is just my fear
perhaps it is a bad dream
and I will awaken soon to find
that all is fine -- I pray.

This poem is shared with What's Going On? for Susan's prompt - "Revolution."

Praise Our World

 Praise Our World

Praise our crazy fallen world.
It is all we have, and we have to live.
Praise the memories of Thanksgivings past,
times when family got together.
Memories of mother's turkey, dressing,
cranberries, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie.
Praise the way the way we laughed together,
unaware these times were not infinite.

Praise our crazy fallen world.
It is all we have, and we have to live.
Praise the memories of winters long past,
shoveling snow before there were snow blowers.
Memories of building snowmen and snow forts,
skating New Years Eve at the city skating rink.
Praise sledding down hills in the nearby golf course,
unaware these times were not infinite.

Praise our crazy fallen world.
It is all we have, and we have to live.
Praise the memories we make today,
the windy November walks along the forest path.
Memories of delectable meals, conversations enjoyed,
plans made, poetry written, books read.
Praise sitting covered by a warm flannel blanket,
unaware these times are not infinite.

Praise our crazy fallen world.
It is all we have, and we have to live.
Praise all the wonderful memories
we cherish today.

*****

This is written for Sumana's prompt at What's Going On? ---Memory/Remembering.

And wishing anyone in the United States a "Happy Thanksgiving."

I Love

I Love

I love singing in a car,
listening to guitar,
the patter of rain, champagne.

I love the chime of a bell,
a graceful gazelle,
eagle soaring overhead, red.

And I love you too.

I love the sky just after dawn,
deer scampering on the lawn,
the dance of falling leaves, cheese.

I love the gentle waterfall,
a stroll through the mall,
a pleasant dream, ice cream.

And I love you too.

I love hikes through the park,
candles in the dark,
wooly warm clothes, a rose.

I love a puppy's soft fur,
a kitten's gentle purr,
Rainbow in the sky, and pie.

And I love you too

I love friends who make me laugh,
counting spots on a giraffe,
Books of poetry, a tree.

I love a festive family meal,
a conversation that feels real,
pizza served hot, an instant pot.

And I love you too.

Written for my prompt at What's Going On? --- I Love.

Autumn Day in Grant Park

 Autumn Day in Grant Park

One last time we walk the tree-lined path
in Grant Park on the shores of Lake Michigan
where many are already bare, but some are still
robed in brilliant colors of yellow and orange.

How many days before the stragglers fall?
How many days before winter,
before all are shades of brown and gray?
How many years before I die?

Along the path someone always writes
a Bible passage in blue chalk making
sure to note that it comes from the KJV.
I suppose everyone needs their  mission.

I remember our summer visits to Grant Park,
warm-day picnics overlooking the lake.
Two months ago all was green and warm,
each season has its beauty when we look.

Every path leads somewhere,
the squirrels scamper in every season,
as do we, every path leads somewhere.
We just have to find out where.

One squirrel scampers on an electric wire
from one side of the road to another
I marvel at its fearless balance and ingenuity
as it traverses such a danger-fraught route.

One last time we walk the tree-lined path
in Grant Park on the shores of Lake Michigan.
Every path leads somewhere, and like the squirrel
we somehow manage to find our way.

This was written for Sherry's prompt at What's Going On? --- "Walking in Earth Shoes."

Moving Day

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Moving Day

Moving house and home is nice if it is a choice, but not
for those who escape with only what they can carry
after their homes are destroyed by fire or war or because
the enemy is nearing the doorstep, and they have to flee with
only the clothes on their backs, or their country or state has

become unsafe  because they are the "wrong" color, religion,
are LBGTQ+, or.......  Then moving is not "nice" but a burden,
a necessity, the only way they can hope to survive.  But where
will THEY go when their enemies surround? I wonder where
I will go when MY enemies surround. Where? WHERE?

This was written for Susan's  Prompt 'Moving House and Home' at What's Going On?

Just An Ordinary Day

 

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Just an Ordinary Day

In the morning I pretend this is just an ordinary day,
children all over the world head to school,
no one has to flee, no homes are bombed,

no one shelters fearfully in subway stations,
no one says good-bye to family as they cross
the border, not knowing if they will meet again,

no children's hospitals, museums, libraries,
homes, businesses, monuments destroyed,
no soldiers invade with trucks, tanks, missiles,

no one is leaving everything behind,
no separations, no injuries, no deaths, not one.
in the morning I pretend this is just an ordinary day.

For Sumana's prompt "Ode to the Mundane" at What's Going On?

Thinking of Leonard Cohen

 

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Thinking of Leonard Cohen

I listen to Leonard Cohen and I am
thirty-five years younger
lying in front of my record player
records spread out across the floor
music playing loudly, unaware
of the passage of time, caught in
feelings of loneliness, love found,
love lost, hotel rooms in big cities,
dreams, yearnings, places and people,
years lived and years passing by.

I think about my life and wonder what
my future will be and about the past
and how it is Leonard Cohen with his voice
of gravel can still capture so much with his
words and his music to transport me
thirty-five years later as I listen
to the same music on my air-pods to that
place deep within my mind where
music still has the ability to transform
inspire poetry and give birth to dreams.

I listen to Leonard Cohen and I am
with him in that Chelsea Hotel, Room 224,
and he is singing to me alone, with
gravely voice and Spanish Conde guitar.
I am young, short-haired, in bell bottom jeans,

awe-struck and in love with life,

with the many possibilities ahead,
caught in a fantasy that seems so real
which still is alive in me today when
I allow myself to dream.

This was written for my prompt "Hotel" at What's Going On?

In Case I Forget to Say it Enough

 

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In Case I Forget To Say it Enough

Thank you for this autumn day, despite the cloud cover and wind and thunderstorms on the horizon.  Thank you for the gifts of green grass, red and orange leafed trees, and flowers that still bloom,  just the fact that I exist in this hour of this day.  So many blessings.  So much to be grateful for in this big and wonderful world.  

Thank you for early morning tea which warms me, walks that invigorate me, books that enlighten.  Thank you for the spring in my step, the rejuvenation of spirit, healthy food, new life, the ability to feel even when feelings are uncomfortable.  So many blessings. So much to be grateful for in this big and wonderful world.

Thank you for journeys made, conversations enjoyed, possibilities, doors open, oceans to dip one's toes into.  Thank you for good dreams as they happen, sleep as a refreshment and an escape, people who listen and care, freshly baked bread.  So many blessings. So much to be grateful for in this big and wonderful world.

Thank you for scientists and poets, visionaries and optimists, doctors who heal, and people who speak and work on behalf of the oppressed and persecuted.  Thank you for truth tellers, freedom fighters, climate warriors, all those who work for a better world.  So much to be grateful for in this big and wonderful world.

This was written for Sherry's prompt "Gratitude" for Wednesday,  October 11, at What's Going On.

I Hope When It Happens

 

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I Hope When It Happens

I hope when it happens I have time to say
oh this is how it is happening.

I am not sure that I will though, as it
may happen at an unexpected time.

I hope when it happens I have time
to say I love you just once more.

I am not sure that I will though, as I
don't know if there will be time.

I hope when it happens I will think I
made something pretty with my life.

I am not sure that I have, but there is
nothing wrong with hoping even that.

I hope when it happens I will still hope
that there will soon be a beautiful more.

This poem was written for Susan's prompt "Hill of Hope" at Hill of Hope - What's Going On

A Little Girl is Singing

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A Little Girl is Singing

A little girl is singing somewhere, happy and naive.
She holds her mother's hand as they sing together.
The mother knows what the world is like now.
The mother has her fears, but still they sing.

The little girl thinks only of this moment of joy,
holds her mother's hand, swings it as they sing
together as they walk down the path of life.
They each have their dreams. And each other.

The girl is a teenager now, still sings but holds
her mother's hand no more.  She dreams her
own dreams -- leaving home, her own place
in the world, a world she imagines.

The mother too goes on with her life, still sings
the familiar songs, walks her familiar path.
She wants to walk beside her daughter again,
but their paths have split, she feels alone.

There is so much we don't understand about life.
Mothers, daughters, paths, songs, hopes, dreams.
And there are the angels giving them hope as they
go trustingly, along individual paths.  Singing.

This was written for Sumana's prompt "mothers" on the What's Going On? Blog!

Take This Poem

 

                                                 source

Take This Poem

Take the sunshine of morning,
the dog that wants to walk,
then go then.

Take the salad for lunch,
the text to my grandson,
then phone him.  

Take the warm shower, 
the stillness of the day,
then relax then.

Take pizza or quesadilla,
vegetable korma or red curry,
then savor them.

Take climate change or banning books
taking away women's rights
then fight them.

Take what do you want
combined with what do you do,
then what happens?

Take word play and thoughts,
seriousness and fun,
call it a poem then.

Written for the "Take This Poem" prompt at What's Going On? Blog.

Make Your Own Weather

Photo by Craig Whitehead 

Make Your Own Weather

Make your own weather,
start with distress and flow with it.

For whatever reason that is what you feel.
Everything is annoying, no one understands

it is about you, and you feel as you feel,
and no one can tell you how to perceive.

There is the end of summer feeling
that not everyone can understand,

the sadness of not knowing if you will see
summer again next year or what the politics

will be, so this makes you depressed
as you feel you must take care of it all, 

while you bear the weight of the world
going mad and more hateful by the day.

So you try to make your own weather,
do what you can to save your sanity

from the storms that weigh you down,
from tornadoes that threaten your brain.

For Sherry's prompt "How's the Weather" at What's Going On? blog

What's Going On?

Hi Everyone,  So glad to be writing with you again.  This is my response to our FIRST prompt in our new blog - "What's Going On?"  Just so you know, our prompts will always go up on Wednesday at 11:00 a.m. Eastern Time & close the following Sunday at 8 p.m. Our initial prompt is an exception!  I have shared another version of our theme song below as well.  Enjoy!

Lady Gaga - "What's Up" 4 Non Blondes Live Cover at #artRaveVienna

What's Going On?

What's going on I sometimes wonder
This is not the country that I knew
So many things have worsened now
I sometimes wonder where I am

What's going on I sometimes wonder
I am not as young as I feel
Sometimes I don't realize that
until another birthday rolls around.

What's going on I sometimes wonder
my grandchildren are so grown up
I remember when they were babies
now each is taller than me.

What's going on I sometimes wonder
I am back prompting poetry once again
I've reopened up my old familiar blog 
to again share poetry with my friends.

Written for What's Going On?

The Blank Page

The Blank Page

Sometimes it's not easy to face the blank page,
whether it is a blank piece of paper or the
beginning of a new year.  A blank page is so
stark, so prohibitive.  It is so hard to put a
mark on it for the first time.  There is fear
of the first word, fear of the first move.

Tomorrow there is a new page, a new year.
I have a feeling of relief that the book
that was 2020 will be slammed shut forever.
It was the worst year ever, filled with
so many deaths, so many nightmares.
This book will be hidden out of sight.

Tomorrow I begin a new page in a new
book.  There is a small feeling of hope.
Hope's flame has not been extinguished.
Tomorrow I will write HOPE.  I will write
HOPE on the page one hundred times.
I will fill the page with so much hope.

I will face the new year with stubborn
resolve to survive, at LEAST survive,
and hopefully thrive.  I will hope to
regain my faith again, find that we
are on the right track, heading along
a less anxiety-producing positive track.

Sometimes it is not easy to face the blank page
but as 2021 begins I will begin the new year,
the first page of the new book with hope.
Hope.  Hope.  This is my resolve right now.
May it be so.  I pray it will be so.

 Inspired by "Proxy" by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Wishing anyone who discovers this post in my pretty inactive blog a very Happy New Year.  I haven't forgotten poetry.....or you!

Faith in 2020

Faith in 2020

Faith is hard
in the age of Covid
where is god?

Faith is hard
in the age of Trump
where is humanity?

In 2020
faith is just hard!

Written for the writing group

Three Short Poems

Blue 

Blue is the color of my jeans
my sweater, my sweatshirt.
I have blue sneakers too.

Blue is the color of the sky on a sunny day
Blue are the ocean waves that dance
Blue is the sadness of a heart.

Inspired by Robert Brewer's prompt for November 11 - Write a color poem

68 Days

68 days until inauguration 
each day a new kind of hell
each day more purges
each day more horrific judges
each day more insane tweets
each day more fake news
each day more corona virus cases
each day more corona virus deaths
each day the republicans are silent
each day more division
when will the terror end
each day a new kind of hell
68 days until inauguration.

Inspired by Robert Brewer's prompt for November 12 - Write a poem with a number in the title.

Luck

I am waiting for him to run out of luck
to be removed from the white house physically
as I fear will be the case.

I am waiting for a new beginning
for a new team to be in charge
to be able to have a future again.

I am waiting for him to run out of luck
for the followers to finally see the light
I impatiently wait for a new day.

Inspired by Robert Brewer's prompt for November 13 - Write a poem about luck.

Easy or Hard

Easy or Hard

I thought loving this country was easy

did not know that discerning truth could be so hard.

I thought it easy to believe tomorrow would bring good

but now it is hard to watch what happens each day.

I thought it was easy to find the good in most people

now there is half the population for which it is hard.

I am not pleased with myself for thinking this way

but it is really hard not to.

Why is writing uplifting poetry so hard?

Written for Robert Brewer's November 10 prompt - "Write an Easy or Difficult Poem."

Our Days

Our Days

Our days are all the same
I talked on the phone this morning
with an insurance representative
and she asked me if I had a good weekend
and I said no I did not

with Covid numbers rising
an election mess dragging on
I did not have a good weekend
every day has the same routine
and not much relief in sight

Our days are all the same.

Written for Robert Brewer's prompt for November 9 - "Our....."

I Am

I Am

I am an evangelical
pretending to be christian
i will support trump
and encourage civil war
I will fight for fascism
in the name of god
my god is power
my god is hate
my god is trump.

This is written for Robert Brewer's Poetry challenge for November 8 - a Persona Poem.

This Time

This Time

This time we can be joyful
we have reason to sing and dance
we have turned in the right direction
may democracy again advance.

The dictator has been dethroned
many people finally saw who he is
Biden and Harris are such inspiration
no more rule by one with psychosis.

 This is written for Robert Brewer's November 7 poetry prompt - This Time

It Was Time

It Was Time

She packed her bags as it was time
she had stood by him  crime after crime
then left the house and did not look back
with money and jewels in Gucchi sack
I guess we could say it was a marital coup
but really I don't care, do you?

 Inspired by Robert Lee Brewer's poem for November 6 - an In Media Res poem

In Ruin

In Ruin

It is sad to think of an entire year in ruin
the pandemic began in March here and it will be
well into March of 2021 before there is hope
and even then it will be scant hope unless
people social distance, don't gather, do mask.

It is sadder still that four years were ruined
our country lost its reputation in the world
the president an object of ridicule and shame
the rights of people have been chipped away
fake news and fake science rule the day.

It is sad to think about the ruin.

 Inspired by Robert Lee Brewer's prompt for November 5 - Ruin

Focusing Myself

 Focusing Myself

It is hard to focus these days
eyes glued to the television
and twitter following the news
afraid to watch and afraid not to
tension rising nerves on edge
watching won't make a difference
I ahould go on with everyday life
not wasting precious moments
but it is hard to focus these days.

In Response to Robert Brewer's Prompt for November 4 - Myself

Nightmare

Nightmare

I have lived  a nightmare for four years
I pray that it will be over soon
I don't know that praying will do any good
but if it doesn't what else can I do?
I can't see continuing to live like this
in this horrible trumpian world.
At some point I will want to sleep
but I fear what I will wake up to
I pray something will turn out good.

In Response to Robert Lee Brewer's Prompt for November 3 - Dream or Nightmare

Unexpected

 Unexpected

So many unexpected things have happened
that the unexpected is now the expected
and nothing is predictable any more
we don't know what we will wake up to
or what each new day will bring.

I never expected to live in fear like this
continuously freaked out by the unexpected
afraid that evil lurks on every horizon
I never dreamed life would come to this
that there would be so many unexpected things.

Inspired by Robert Lee Brewer's prompt for November 2 - Unexpected

Enter

 Enter

I enter a new month 
my stomach churns with fear
I try to find ways to
calm my shaken nerves.

I have food stored up
in case of rioting and unrest
I don't see a peaceful end
to this  election day.

I enter a new month
my stomach churns with fear
our Covid numbers keep rising
and still people party on.

More Covid cases than April
hospitalizations and deaths rise
the Republicans continue to fight
for unmasked freedom to kill.

I enter a new month
my stomach churns with fear
as I begin to wonder
how many dead by next year.

As I pray for a peaceful election
and triumph of the good man
that the trumpian presence will be removed
and democracy will be restored again.

Inspired by Robert Lee Brewer's prompt for November 1 - Enter

Time

Time

Time flows as it does in waves
one day at a time but somehow
all days flow together as it
is hard to find a separation

when every day is much the same
as the one that came before
and is much the same as
the one that comes after

and the days pass into weeks
into months as spring
becomes summer then fall
and soon will be winter

as we watch the Covid numbers
rise with each passing day
as our world becomes ever smaller
and home becomes a fortress

and I wonder if days will ever be
distinguishable from one another again
and when this hell will be over
and when will this nightmare end.

Three Twelve-Line Poems

I remember trick-or-treat
didn't want to pretend to be
someone that I wasn't
hated masks and costumes
don't really know why
so mostly I went as myself
or dressed as a hippy
or put on a cowboy hat
but never wanted a mask
perhaps that explains why
I never liked make-up
I am who I am that's all
but the candy was fun!

-------------------------------

Last April I had no idea
that in October we would
still be sheltering in place
I wonder if I had known then
if I could have stood it
I wonder sometime
How I can stand it now
that it looks like it will be
a long winter and I am
prepared to be depressed
through much of it
though I will survive.

-----------------------

I pretended it was over
that all was back to normal
that I could sleep easily
knowing that all was well
and not fear  the crazy man
would do something else
which would throw me
into anxiety and fear
I pretended it was over
that all was back to normal
that conflict was resolved
in reality --I pray.

Good News

Good News


The Good News is

.....the shopper found Chobani yogurt to put in the Instacart
even though they were out of Noosa

.....the sun is finally shining after a long few days of rain

.....we have another take-out meal from the Thai restaurant
we did curbside pickup yesterday

.....I threw out some more old papers and old cards this morning

....the  grass seed I planted some weeks ago is finally growing
.
....there is almost enough rhubarb for a rhubarb torte

....I finally found a new book that looks interesting to read digitally

......there is still one frozen pizza in the freezer and some gelato

.....my grandson texted his thank you for the Thai food I delivered to them

.....more and more buds appeared on the trees

.....the meals at our house are always good

.....zoom continues to make connection possible

.....I am alive.

Wild Writing
Day 27

Thoughts That Keep Me Awake at Night

Thoughts That Keep Me Awake at Night

I wonder when this will come to an end.  How?
When will the rain stop?  Is the sump pump working?
will water flood the basement? Why can't I sleep?

Will it be safe to go to the dentist in July?  Will I ever go to Costco
or Trader Joe's again?  I wonder if the stock market will crash further.
Will there be issues with the condo association?

Why aren't some people friendly at all?  What did I do to them?
Should I buy a new car?  Even if the old one works well?  It almost
smells new sometime.  My hair is getting too long.

What if I need a plumber or or need some other repair?  Would I let
someone in my house?  What other unused stuff can I throw out?
Will I miss it if I do?  I haven't used the things anyway, but still.

I am so hungry for pizza.  I miss family dinners even though sometime
they were a lot of work.  I wonder if the grandchildren miss me.
They don't text or call unless I contact them.

What can I read? What can I watch?  What can I do?  All this time
being wasted.  Will I ever wear anything besides sweatshirts
and jeans?  I am glad to have enough shoes and socks.

I want to plant herbs, so somewhere, anywhere.  Where can I go?
Who cares about me?  Who misses me?  Who do I miss?
I wonder when this will come to an end.  How?

Wild Writing
Day 26

The Year of the Rough Draft

The Year of the Rough Draft

Let this be the year of the rough draft
start something and then drop it
throw things out and then regret
sort through piles of nothing
realize how rarely they matter
how little things mean anyway

let this be the year of the rough draft
open one's mouth and then revise the thoughts
start a book only to realize it is boring
forget a birthday you should have remembered
not stay in touch until the call is hard to make
let things go and let them go longer

let this be the year of the rough draft
waste time thinking time is infinite
there is always next week or next month
until there is no time at all
life comes to a screeching halt
the bookshelves are not in order

let this be the year of the rough draft
the angry thoughts spilled on the table
vegetables cooked a little too long
cheese has begun to mold
life isn't anymore what it was
the tomatoes rot on their stems

let this be the year of the rough draft
poems begun but left unfinished
ideas surface but not followed through
internet doesn't connect with anything
telephone rings but is never answered
life goes on but does not progress

let this be the year of the rough draft.

Wild Writing
Day 25

Bear With Me

Bear With Me

I want to tell you something about the anger
that wells up inside me when I think of this

country and the way it has been handling
the COVID 19 health situation and how

angry I am with our state supreme court
and all of the politicians who wanted to

open up the state without any kind of plan
and the people whose first thought was

to go to a bar and drink drink drink
with people without masks or social distance

the anger I feel when I think that our numbers were
going down and now they will rise like wildfire again

just when I was thinking it was becoming a bit
safer and I could possibly think about going

into a store for a brief moment but now I
can forget that for some more weeks I guess

I want to tell you something about the anger
I feel with all of this time we could be enjoying

being wasted by being quarantined in the house
to protect ourselves from the maskless lunatics

who don't care about others and want to send
their employees back into harm's way only

to prove that they wield the power to coerce
I want to tell you something about the anger

that wells up inside me when I think of
those who choose to deny science

I want to tell you something about the anger
that becomes worse by the day.

I want to tell you something about the anger.

Wild Writing
Day 24

When Adulthood Fails

When Adulthood Fails

When adulthood fails you, you can still summon
the memories of childhood to refresh your weary mind
and sooth your sorrowful soul

mother's mixture of M&M's and peanuts, a treat for
those weekend nights of watching wolfman or frankenstein
on the couch with a blanket to shelter from fear

roller skating in the basement on winter nights
or on the sidewalks during summer days
metal skates strapped to shoes, sized with a key

playing starlight moonlight or statue maker
in the yard with neighbor kids during warm evenings
peaceful days stretching endlessly ahead

biking across city to the swimming pool
jacks on the porch or hopscotch on the walk
playing softball in the street watching for cars

you can forget for a minute that Covid 19 is raging
that the stay at home order that helped keep people safe
has been lifted and the fears for the future that brings

when adulthood fails you, you can still summon
the memories of childhood to refresh your weary mind
and soothe your sorrowful soul.


Wild Writing 
Day 23

Peeling Potatoes is a Form of Prayer

Peeling Potatoes is a Form of Prayer
(thoughts while peeling potatoes)

Let's get away from platitudes
there are evil people
call it for what it is
evil is evil
racism is racism

packing plant workers are hispanic
their lives don't matter
they are expendable
meat packing is an essential business
so the plants cannot close
if people get sick so what
if people die so what
there must be meat

open up the state
go sit in the bar
with your maga hat
forget social distance or masks
they are for sissies
have another beer
if people get sick so what
there must be beer.

Day 22
Wild Writing

I Remember

I REMEMBER

I remember when my parents got their first washing machine, and my parents and aunt and uncle sat in front of it and marvelled as it went through its wash cycle.  I remember when my dad asked me if I didn't think I was a little bit too old to be hugging him goodnight.  I remember when my mother wanted to talk at a church council meeting and was told that only men could speak.  I remember when an aunt ran her fingers through my hair and asked me if THAT was the way people were wearing their hair these days.

I remember when my mother went ice skating with me on New Year's Eve.  I remember when my dad pitched baseballs to me in the back yard.  I remember when I went horseback riding with my dad on the streets of Lake Geneva, and his horse stopped and wouldn't move and he said later he would never go horseback riding again.  I remember playing kick the can with the neighborhood kids on our front sidewalk.  I remember window shopping downtown with my parents on Sunday afternoons when the stores were not open on Sundays.

I remember riding my two-wheeler across a large bridge on the way to the school I went to then, with my dad driving behind just in case.  I remember the smell of freshly made rhubarb torte or chocolate chip cookies greeting me when I got home from school.  I remember sitting up late on a Saturday night watching an old and scary black and white horror movie such as 'Wolfman' and having a blanket on my lap to cover my face.  I remember my first dog Corky who once got caught behind the refrigerator and a minister had to move the refrigerator to rescue him.  I remember the last time Corky ran away and hearing later he had been killed by another dog.

I remember getting sick and wanting to skip school on the days I had to give speeches for speech class.  I remember my mother and I going to the library together in summer and each of us coming home with several books.  I remember lying in the grass in our backyard reading.  I remember playing softball in the street and jacks on the front porch and hospital with a variety of dolls.  I remember going to the woods with other kids to play Robin Hood.  I remember when the Catholic kids told me they wouldn't play with me because I wasn't Catholic and how my mother took matters into her own hands and telephoned the priest.

I remember our first black and white television and how neighborhood kids used to stand outside our house watching it through the window.  I remember sitting on the front porch with my parents after dark in summer before there was air conditioning.  I remember watching the 4th of July fireworks sitting on chairs in our backyard.  I remember building snowmen and snow forts and not minding shoveling snow.  I remember.

Wild Writing
Day 21

In Captivity

In Captivity

I pay attention to the weather

(even though I have nowhere to go)

watch the greening of the grass

listen to the sounds of the birds

read a digital book for mental escape

plan a first visit to a grocery store

(whenever that will be)

take a road trip

walk the dog

enjoy tasty meals

make a pile for Goodwill

throw out things I will never use

use zoom as a social outlet

try to stay optimistic

practice being quiet

attempt to avoid boredom

stay away from too much news

try to create but don't succeed

I pay attention to the weather.

Wild Writing

Day 20

Nine Surprising Things

Nine Surprising Things

I did a curbside pick-up at Panera and on the directions I asked that the person who delivered to my car wear a mask.  They didn't.

I thought I did a good job of protecting and sanitizing the kitchen counter after I divided the bagels into three different bags.  I didn't.

My daughter is bringing us Thai food using curbside pickup this noon, and I will give her a few bagels from my earlier curbside bagel order.

Whenever I am settled down doing something and don't want to be disturbed, one of the dogs indicates they need to go outside.

There were two sandhill cranes on the lawn behind the house this morning and a hawk flying overhead.  It was a beautiful sight.

I finished one book yesterday and was amazed to immediately find another good book to read today, which usually doesn't happen.  This makes me happy.

We finished one series on Netflix yesterday and already have located another series to watch.

The sun is shining. It is warm enough to take a walk today, and I will.  Life is good.

Wild Writing
Day 19

Hold On

Hold On

You must hold on to your quiet center
seek only the berries of wisdom
reject the cacophony in the world
with its hateful whines and tweets

you must retreat to your inner island
close the doors to disturbing intrusions
seeking the path of light rather than dark
walk with purpose into the forest of the sun

you must eat the apple of self belief
tidy up the clutter of the frantic mind
fill it instead with pleasant ponderings
leave the vacuity and tumult behind

you must hold on to your quiet center
calm the nerves with blissful tones
seek that healing inner silence
shelter the heart with a prayer.

Wild Writing 
Day 18

Thank You

Thank You

Listen to the silence all around and say thank you
when the sky is filled with rain and clouds
when a text comes to wish a happy Mother's Day
for this time of reflection, contemplation, prayer
say thank you.

When a good meal is prepared and savored
or a good dream replaces a nightmare
when a poem that is liked is finally written
or the curbside pickup is ready and there
is finally somewhere to go, say thank you.

When the number of positive test results go down
and the number of deaths decrease, say thank you
when the rain stops and the grass is greener
after a vigorous outdoor walk in the park
where more than a mile was walked, say thank you.

Listen to the silence all around and say thank you
when you see the wild turkeys on the hill
or the rabbits and the deer come to call
when there is the scent of freshly baked bread
or the smell of savory curry say thank you.

When the sunrise greets yet another new day
when trees bud and flowers grow
when hungry birds can dig for worms
when evening brings yet another day to rest
say thank you.

Listen to the silence all around and say thank you.

Wild Writing
Day 17

How I am Not Alone

How I Am Not Alone

Because when I took the blankets out of the dryer
both dogs were ecstatic waiting to cuddle in them instead

Because we had a meal together, one that she had made

Because the geese outside are noisy and draw attention
to themselves

Because when we took a walk we saw a man cutting his lawn

Because the man walked with his dog down the hill and then up again

Because we watched The Crown together

Because I read a book my sister had liked

Because my daughter sent a text

Because we talked about ordering groceries and decided on a list

Because we planned to order Thai curbside delivery someday next week

Because we had a Zoom movie discussion, and it really seemed like the
others were in the room

Because poetry keeps me a bit connected with poetry

Because I sometimes see what others are doing via social media

Because we share our days together

Because she ordered a Mary Oliver book for me

Because I have memories of how it was before

Because the grass grows and the bright sun gives hope

I am not alone.


Wild Writing
Day 16

25 Things About Me

25 Things About Me


1.  I don't like to write things that are self-revealing.

2.  I would rather remain mostly a mystery.

3.  I am more introvert than extrovert.

4. I like vegetarian meals.  Fish is good too.

5.  I like to eat a variety of ethnic foods.

6.  I have qualities of  both my mother and father.

7.  My mother was shy but would talk or write letters to anyone.
     No one thought she was shy.

8.  My father was shy and preferred not to talk, but when he
     talked it was often important.

9.  As a child I liked to read and write.  I still do.

10.  I used to like to write poetry.   Now it is basically work.

11.  I don't read as much as I used to.  I have trouble finding
       an interesting book.

12. I often crave pizza.

13.  I like white wine.

14.  This list is hard for me.

15.  I used to walk half marathons and still like to walk.

16.  I used to enjoy biking but don't do that anymore.

17.  I have three dogs, each with a different personality.

18.  I get antsy if there is nothing to do.

19.  I like to discuss things.

20.  I am fearful of the political situation.

21.  I like to wear blue jeans and sweatshirts and Blundsones.

22.  I get up early and love breakfast with coffee.

23.  I try not to dwell on my fears.

24.  I have traveled to many countries.

25.  I pray daily.

Wild Writing
Day 15

Dark Times

Dark Times

It's not always comfortable
the chair is a little too soft
and the news a little too bleak
for my liking.

And my back hurts when I rise.

I try not to wrap myself around
the discomforts of the day
my stomach turns and back hurts
when will I feel good again?

The food is not always delicious
but it is all I have and I don't
want to go hungry or starve
for lack of news or pears.

I am aware of what I'm seeing
but refuse to embrace it
I try to keep my courage
wish the fear to be gone

It's not always comfortable
the chair is a little too soft
a bit too easy to sink into
for my liking.

And my back hurts when I rise.

Wild Writing 
Day 14

This is the Everyday We Spoke Of

This is the Everyday We Spoke Of

I wake up in the morning, turn on the coffee,
dress, take out the dogs one by one,
feed them, then eat my breakfast

half a bagel and an orange and coffee
breakfast doesn't change much these days
prayer group next, then check the news

this is the everyday we spoke of

now it's time to vacuum, wash clothes,
sort through things, throw stuff away
take a morning walk since it's sunny

I take a trip to the gas station for
the first time in eight weeks, wear
a mask and gloves to be safe

this is the everyday we spoke of

now is time to write a poem
hope to receive divine inspiration
then curried vegetables and rice for lunch

time for a Netflix movie, Mansfield
Park it is for today.  I hope I will
stay awake with all the business of the day.

This is the everyday we spoke of.

Wild Writing
Day 13

This Poem Cannot.....

This Poem Cannot...

This poem cannot take away fear
bring back normalcy, make masks,
or cut one's hair.

This poem cannot grocery shop,
fill up the gas tank, travel up north
for the weekend getaway.

This poem cannot buy pizza, take
the dog for a walk, picnic in the park,
celebrate a family birthday.

This poem cannot visit a friend,
go to church, eat in a restaurant
go to a concert or play

This poem cannot dispel sadness,
take a temperature, attach a ventilator,
develop a vaccine to prevent a disease

This poem cannot predict an election,
dispel misinformation, stop fake news,
restore sanity.

This poem cannot take away fear.

Wild Writing
Day 12

Why You Should Pick Me

Why You Should Pick Me

1.  I am organized
2.  I can do two things at once
3.  I am kind and thoughtful
4.  I love dogs
5.  I am good at organizing dishes in the dishwasher
6.  I like to do grocery shopping
7.  I like good discussions
8.  I like to listen to what others say
9.  I am creative
10. I listen
11. I am willing to throw out things
12.  I am open minded
13.  I can peel a lot of vegetables.
14.  I like to attend prayer services
15.  I am practical
16.  I like blue jeans and sweatshirts
17.  I like series on Netflix
18.  I am a good person

Wild Writing
Day  11

What If You Knew...?

What If You Knew?

What if you knew that this would never end
that social distancing would last forever
that we could never meet in groups again

that a vaccine would never be found
that no more concerts would be held
that hospital visits would never be possible

that schools would never open
that planes would never fly
and cruise ships would languish forever

that the elderly would be abandoned
that blacks and Latinos would die as meatpackers
that undocumented and poor would simply die

that elections would not be held
that armed protests would multiply
that democracy would come to an end

that this was only the beginning of the nightmare
that weaponized Covid 19 had its way
in bringing us closer to fascism each day.

What if you knew?

Wild Writing
Day 10

Everything is Precious

Everything is Precious

Everything is precious

every plastic bag has a second use

perhaps for an extra roll

or carrot peels or dog waste

throw very little away, 

repurpose what you can

in these pandemic days

Everything is precious

hand sanitizer is gold

dish detergent is silver

hope they won't run out

shampoo, hand soap, toothpaste

how long will they last

in these pandemic days

Everything is precious 

how much chicken in the freezer

how many potatoes, carrots,

zucchini until we run out

what happens IF we do run out

when we DO run out

in these pandemic days

Everything is precious

the last shriveled orange

crust of bread, piece of cheese,

cookie, vitamin, dab of hand cream

and time is very precious 

in these pandemic days

Everything is precious!

Wild Writing

Day 9

To Live In This World

To Live in This World

To live in this world you must
embrace all of it, even what is
foist upon you against your will
even when you feel like a caged animal
trapped and unable to be free
stuck there with dreams of freedom
the desire to run, the desire to scream
into the wind with heart pounding

To survive in this world you must
embrace all of it, the good and
the bad, darkness and light,
the smile of joy, pain of loss,
loud laughter and flowing tears
the endless minutes of nothingness
the endless hours of nothingness
the endless days of nothingness

To live in this world you must
embrace all of it, as days drag on
when nerves are on edge
and dreams come to a halt and
it's harder to find joy and to be
philosophical with no end in sight
as we try to make sense
of life as it is in this world.

Wild Writing-
Day 8

The Poem Starts Here

The Poem Starts Here

The poem starts here
right now in this moment
of this my seventh writing day
It awakens early in the morning
moves from room to room
looks out the window
notices the pouring rain
has a bagel with coffee
before deciding what to do

and it doesn't question what to write
which subject or which words
because all beginnings lead somewhere
down hallways into rooms
up some stairs and down others
doors open and doors close

and I will not question the poem
its subject or its choice of words
as there is no right or wrong
only today leading to tomorrow
into some kind of unknown future
this poem ends here


Wild Writing
Day 7

What If?

What If?


What if the time of the virus went on for the rest of my life
and I could never interact with people again
that this is what life would always be like
isolating being the forever norm
a trapped feeling a way of life
the anger building
smile fading.


What if the time of the virus went on for the rest of my life
and I ran out of things to do and books to read
and areas to clean and junk to throw out
while nightmares replaced restful sleep
and I wanted to scream loudly
to shake a fist at God
and did.



Wild Writing - Day 6

Weren't We Beautiful Then?

Weren't We Beautiful Then?


Weren't we beautiful then
when we walked through the streets of Jerusalem
enjoyed the scenes, people, food, ambiance
wandered into stores and freely touched what we wanted to buy.

Weren't we beautiful then
when we could hike along the Seven Bridges Trail
peopled or not,  Covid still an unknown word,
winding through nature, hair blowing in the wind.

Weren't we beautiful then
when we had a family Memorial Day barbecue
nothing like grilled burgers being eaten together,
lively conversation, a shared meal around a common table.

Weren't we beautiful then
when we visited Kopps Ice Cream
on a hot summer day and sat on benches to eat
and it didn't matter if we were six feet away.

Weren't we beautiful then
when we planned what we wanted to do
didn't have to worry about infected people
life was so gentle then.

Weren't we beautiful then
I realize we took so much for granted
oblivious to the fact that things could change
we have pictures of the way things were.

Weren't we beautiful then
our days stretched out before us
the sun shining - and when the rain came
we knew the sun would appear tomorrow.

Weren't we beautiful then?

Wild Writing Day 5

What Do You Want to Remember About These Days?

What Do You Want to Remember About These Days?

What do you want to remember about these days
that stretched out endlessly without much change
wondering what we would do during the day
and never a different kind of answer

the way we peeled carrots and potatoes and parsnips
the hum of the dishwasher and the whir of the roomba
warmth of dogs cuddling on my outstretched legs
thoughts in the middle of the night that interfered with sleep

new possibilities  that emerge when least expected
texts to my grandchildren that often went unanswered
even though I know they are home
the books I tried to read but couldn't

the Netflix shows we watched to fritter away the day
the way I finally made myself throw things out
realization that I hardly had the need for shoes
and could subsist with a few sweatshirts and jeans

hoping for warmth and no rain so we could walk
at a time of day we'd encounter no people
morning prayer  and evening studies
church services and movie discussion group

how much social life revolved around zoom
how I was more antsy than lonely
wanting to move myself but where is there to go
as I yearned for the day I could shop again

what do you want to remember about these days
just what is worth remembering about today?

Wildest Days - Day 4

Today When I Could Do Nothing

Today When I Could Do Nothing


Today when I could do nothing
I do very little which is something

I realize I am not an essential service
which means I have no obligations
and so I can forgive myself
for the leisurely drift through the day

I often yearned to have life slow down
but now all days are slow
unhurried and leisurely hour by hour
no need to rush on a sheltering day

Yet why am I sometimes so tired
from doing only a little something
not rushing into anything
merely watching the hours flow

I do very little which is something
today when I could do nothing.

Wildest Days - Day 3

Pandemic

Pandemic


What if you thought of it as opportunity
an opportunity for silence
an opportunity for reflection
time to explore just who you are
when there is nothing else you can do
but just be.......

What if you thought of it as an opportunity
to connect with God and nature
reach out with heart and mind
empathize with other humankind
(we're all in this together)

What if you thought of it as an opportunity
to read more (and something different)
be kinder and more tolerant
to organize one's space
to do what had been neglected

What if you thought of it as opportunity
to explore more of who you are
learn something new
listen without the need to speak
at this time of slowness when there is time
to just be......

Wildest Days - Day 2

Now that the Virus is Here

Now that the Virus is Here

I'd like to tell you the way it is now that the virus is here
gas is cheap but there is nowhere to go
I can't remember the date of my last fill up
a highlight of the day can be food delivery
but food must sit on the porch a while for safety
and then sanitized before it is put away

and when we drove to the other side of the city
just to look at the lake I was aware of how many
people did not wear masks--working men
chatted by their trucks as they always did
before the virus came and young men ran
biked or walked, feeling invincibility of youth
not realizing things have changed with the virus
not caring that their bravado may infect us all

and I have found myself yearning to walk through
grocery stores, to choose my own meat and produce
instead of having it chosen by an invisible shopper
and remembering how it was to sit in a theater
or church or restaurant, to have a family dinner
where people sat together instead of talking on Zoom
which is all we can do now held captive by the virus

and I wonder how long it will be before schools can open
before we can get haircuts or go to the dentist
how long before another baseball season
whether we will feel safe at a large concert ever again
or shake hands as we did before the virus came

I shelter in place and wonder what the world will learn
from this time much of the world has come to a halt,
but this is the way it is now
             now that the virus is here.

Written for 27 Wildest Days - Day 1

Shared at Earthweal.

Nothing Good

Nothing Good

So many animals dying
I can't look at another picture
I can't watch another video
nothing good comes of this
for me

I just can't wrap my arms
or my heart or my head
around such sadness now
nothing good comes of this
for me

I have to focus elsewhere
protect myself as I must
lest I sink into a dark abyss
nothing good comes of this
for me.

 --------------

I am profoundly sad and heartbroken
for the animals of climate change,
for all who suffer and die
due to human negligence
but along with everything else
happening in this country, this world
for self preservation I have to look away.


This was written in response to Sherry Blue Sky's challenge at Earthweal: The Animals of Climate Change.

What Do You Drink?

What Do You Drink?

People say that water is the healthiest drink of all

but is it safe to drink bottled water when

93% of bottled water contains micro-plastic particles

if water is not safe to drink, what is?

If one drinks water from the tap it could come from

a lead service line causing poisoning over the years

Not only Flint but in the metro areas of many cities

of course most often in the most impoverished areas.

Resource:  https://orbmedia.org/stories/plus-plastic/   (plastic particles in bottled water)

Resource:   https://www.edf.org/health/lead-pipes-threat-kids-across-america  (lead in pipes)

In your comment, let me know what water you most often drink.  I have shown a picture of New Zealand Artesian Water, which I most often drink.  Sometimes I drink sparkling water.  My tap water IS safe, I think.  No lead pipe, but still more chemicals than the artesian water.  I do use tap water for coffee though. Smiles.

This was written for / shared with Earthweal Weekly Challenge - Water.

Privacy

Privacy


What of one's life is private anymore?
We are involved with social media
sharing where we are and with whom
what we think politically
where we travel and where we eat
who our family is and our friends
whether we are single, dating
married, divorced, or not.

As if it mattered.

What of one's life is private anymore?
We tweet in response to someone
or perhaps just tweet in order
to elicit response, post recipes
or photos on pinterest, use
instagram to gain followers/friends
with poetry or dogs or smiling faces
or beautiful plates of well-prepared food.

As if it mattered.

What of one's life is private anymore?
Are we less lonely from constant exposure
posting our poems in the blogosphere
waiting for someone/anyone  to respond
playing Words with Friends with strangers
wondering who would notice if we
disappeared into the abyss forever
is this what life has become?

As if it mattered.

This is posted for Earthweal Open Link #3 and also for The Sunday Muse with its bottle tree photo.  I look upon the photo as representing the lack of privacy when all is hung for the world to see.

Your Eyes

Arctic Fox - photo from "Sunday Muse"

Your Eyes

Your eyes do not frighten me

their intensity seizes my gaze
never has there been a time like this

with so many invaluable lives dying
fires, global warming, guns, disease

stench of death chokes my mind

and as the devastation continues

I perceive the ghosts of those deceased
so many spirits virtually fill the sky

perhaps it is they who are reflected

in the intense sadness of your eyes
of a depth I struggle to comprehend.


This poem is written for Sunday Muse #90 and Earthweal Weekly Challenge - Ghosts.

So many animals, so many species, exist no more thanks to the devastation humankind has caused and continues to cause.  We have to hope........and act.

Beginning a New Year

Beginning a New Year


The new year has begun
no distinct difference marks
the point between
one year and another

so

in my mind I flow gently
out of one year into another
with a glass of champagne
I first  look back then ahead

knowing

my past now only memory
the path a life lived well
in many completed chapters
all leading somewhere

but where

will I travel next as I
cross into year 2020
embrace a new chapter
and enter into the yet

unknown



Posted to Earthweal's Open Link

An End of Another Year

An End of Another Year

So it is the end of another year
and as I watch impeachment proceedings
I wonder if it is not also the end of an era
of  truth had been the standard to embrace.

So it is the end of another year
and time to contemplate mortality
another college friend funeral this week
three gone, but five of us remain....yet.

So it is the end of another year
presents are bought though not wrapped
homes are decorated with resplendent lights
children are born, thus hope still lives.

Porch pirates now steal delivered gifts
some of them caught by ring doorbell cameras
oh what a strange world we live in now
with few paper Christmas cards sent any more.

But I heard real Christmas trees are resurging
I see them being sold everywhere now
but wonder if this is not a waste of trees
which  might better be left in the ground.

So it is the end of the year for us all
We must try to keep hope for future
2020 will arrive soon, let's embrace hope
for the world and for one another.


Written for Susan's last Midweek Motif

Have a happy holiday everyone and have hope for the new year!

Writing Poetry

Writing Poetry

I wonder if I have written
all of the poems I have in me.

Does every poet have a finite
number of poems inside?

When poems are exhausted
is there nothing more?

Or if  the number is infinite
will I be inspired to write again?

What motivates a poet to write,
who determines  words' importance?

And the question behind the question -
who besides another poet cares?



For Poetry Pantry

If you comment,  I would be interested in what you think.
How would you answer any / all of the questions?
What do you think about writing poetry in general?

October

October

Embrace October
hold it close to your breast
welcome its presence into your life
do not dread the chill in the air
the falling of leaves, the losses borne
the shadow of death on the horizon.

Death is not yet, death is not yet.

Embrace October
appreciate the gifts it brings
the new beauty, the fresh outlook
a time of love and reflection.
Slow down to look again
at what is important and true.

You'll feel it yet, you'll feel it yet.

Embrace October
with all its contradictions
possible alongside impossible
not looking back, nor far ahead.
Live today with October's bounty
know you have only this day.

You have it yet, you have it yet.


I am sharing this poem from 2013 in today's Poetry Pantry.   It feels apt and important.  It is still October.  We all have this day to enjoy.  Only this day! Today!  You have it yet.  I wish each of you well today and all the todays ahead of you.

All Saints Day

All Saints Day

Light a candle for those who have died
for loved ones who have gone before
we all travel the same path
and sometimes I like to think
that those who have gone before
may light candles for us too
on the other side of the great divide.

This is one from 2014, but it remains a significant poem for me. All Saints Day occurs almost the same time as Halloween.  I am thinking at this moment of all those saints who have gone before.  Posted in Poetry Pantry.

If Only

-------------------

If Only


I always hope for happy endings
           in life or movies or books

someone lives happily ever after
evil punished, good rewarded
tornado doesn't touch ground

trapped miners rescued
bomb does not detonate
most qualified promoted

good deeds recognized
drowning man revived
everyone safe at home

friend a friend forever
families live in peace
every disease a cure

best candidate wins
prayer answered
brakes take hold

depression lifted
sick child healed
lost child found

gun unloaded
plane lands
wars end

every problem has a solution
                   if only it were so.

For Poets United Poetry Pantry

I continue to wax nostalgic.  This poem of mine was first posted in Poetry Pantry #6.  Nothing has changed since then.  If anyone wants to continue to communicate with me via email after I am no longer part of Poets United's staff at the end of October, please do let me know.  Either email me or leave your email address with me below.