Swimming in the City Reservoir

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Swimming in the City Reservoir

You can’t swim waters meant for drinking.
I should have known. What was I thinking?
Yet nonetheless, I found it rude
that my skinny-dipping interlude
was ended on that summer’s day
by a cop who wouldn’t look away.
Instead, he watched as I stepped, dripping,
from water one day he’d be sipping.
Picking up and then unfolding
my clothes, I listened to his scolding.
“Lady,” he was muttering,
all worked up and sputtering,
“You cannot put yourself into
The water meant to put in you!”

I woke up with two of the lines in this poem going through my head.  I had to go find the other lines to go with them.  I was hoping they’d match up with the daily prompt, but it was too far a stretch, so here it is, all alone on its own.

 

Broken

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Broken

Though I can’t say that I’ve been missing
hugs and cuddling and kissing,
still I have a memory of
those intimacies wrought by love.

It is as though there’s some obstruction
probably of my own construction
that makes me concentrate on things
instead of all that loving brings.

It’s true that objects may be lost,
but still, it’s not at half the cost.
For it is when loved ones are taken
that one’s world is truly shaken.

When objecs break, it pains our purse,
but losing people is much worse.
For when death rends lovers apart,
the thing that’s broken is a heart

The prompt word today is “missing.”

 

dVerse Writers: The Ballad of Henry and Ruth

The prompt was to write a poem in a certain musical style.  This tale is heart-rending in a typical late-50’s, early-60’s style. If you were alive and paying attention during that era, you should be able to put a tune to it:

The Ballad of Henry and Ruth

Before she met him at the candy store,
her days were empty and her life was a bore;
but when he offered her his Jujyfruits,
in just a moment they were in cahoots.
He was the drummer in a R&R band.
Down all 5th Avenue, he held her hand.
She felt his pulse beat pump a sweet love tune
and knew he’d be her Sugar Daddy soon.

Chorus:
Yes she met him at the candy store,
between the sucker rack and front screen door.
He nearly tripped over her Mary Janes
and crashed into a rack of Candy Canes.
The Double Bubble and the Tootsie Roll Pops
collided with the mints and lemon drops.
Their love was written in the moon and stars,
but realized beneath the Hershey Bars!

Oh Henry, she was crooning, and much more.
He loved this Bit O’ Honey down to the core.
Shifted his Firestick and they went for a ride
his Baby Ruth snuggled right up to his side.
She cried, “Oh, Henry!” as they hit the Mounds,
poppin’ wheelies as they did the rounds.
He was no Slo-Poke, tell you here and now,
so as he swerved to miss a big Black Cow,

The car rolled over on its Rollo Bars
crashing into six  more hot rod cars.
Atomic Fireball” said the words on his car.
Now how appropriate those two words are.
100 Grand it costs him on Payday
so he’ll be working every night and day—
his Red Hot mama working by his side,
for now his Sweet Tart is his blushing bride.

Repeat Chorus:

Just in case you weren’t around way back then, I’ve italicized the names of the candy bars and hard candies of the era. Sorry for ruining the fun of those of you familiar with the times. I know.  It’s pretty bad, but that, too, was typical of the songs of the era.

This poem is written to a prompt at dVerse Writers.

Ephemera

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Ephemera

I saw the shadow of a bird
vanished too quickly to be heard.
Yet with my curtain as a scrim,
for moments I caught glimpse of him.

Strangers at windows on a train
pass by so quickly, then gone again.
They heal no wounds and cause no pain.
Are merely there. No loss or gain.

All of life’s pleasures come and go
for nature has arranged it so.
We’re caught up in its ebb and flow.
We treasure life, then let it go.

 

The prompt word today was Treasure.