Today’s NaPoWriMo Prompt was to write a “mix-and-match” poem in which you mingle fancy, poetic vocabulary with distinctly un-fancy words.
After the Honeymoon
Oh my dear,
caught in this star-studded cowboy boot world,
I love you more than an Oreo cookie,
more than bubble gum
or a dill pickle.
You are a full gas tank and my shoelaces.
You are both what keeps me going
and what I am reaching out for—
my goal and trophy rolled into one.
You are my ironing board and my blender—
what churns me up and straightens me out.
Everything in the world is caught up in you.
It is flowering, our ordinary world.
peanut butter sandwiches
and corned beef hash
are surrounded by rosebuds,
soaring heavenward in sartorial bliss.
The sewing machine is holy
and our Dodge truck dreamlike.
The fanciful and practical
are shuffled in our dream world
like cards at a poker table.
A washcloth and a comb soar heavenward.
Birdsong becomes a phonograph needle,
caught in its groove.
Verdant is the garden hose–
pulsating with a new vibrancy.
If I am a tax form, you are my pencil.
You are diaphanous in your kitchen apron,
a fairy in blue jeans.
I could sing an ode to your toothbrush.
If I took a measuring stick to our love,
the world’s breath would be bated,
waiting for the result.
Birdsong would issue from the teakettle
to chorus the announcement.
For oh, my love, our passion is a hammer.
A scythe that slices through the problems of the world:
the shopping lists and the crabgrass.
Love vaporizes our petty problems––
the broken dishwasher
and the broken fingernail––
leaving my bride, my fairy princess.
My pencil sharpener.
The trimmer of my wick,
the cooker of my sausage.
My dear, I am turgid in thy love.
You are what wrenches my heart
and nails shut the door
of every misgiving I might have had.
You are mustard to my sauerkraut,
pastrami to my rye.
Love in a Ziplock bag might seem less fairylike,
blander than white bread
and more Sunday School than magical;
but, my little zucchini,
my Dove bar and my Orange Crush,
you are still my camellia and my rose.
I think of you under lindens,
your footsteps filled with magnolia petals
and your cook pot full of stardust.
Heaven resides in our walkup flat, my dear,
and I pulsate every day
with the memory of that honeymoon
which was only our penultimate dream—
leading up to the chock-a-block,
stuffed turkey with all the trimmings,
overflowing Christmas stocking,
burst balloon filled with confetti,
blissful rest of that conjoined life
that with every morning alarm clock
will spill over us again
like a freshly split piñata.
If you are curious, here is the list of words I made up to use before I wrote the poem:
bated, penultimate, scintillating, vaporous, tyrolean, fragile, throbbing, majestic, cloud, magical, fragile, fairylike, vaporous, birdsong, flowering, verdant, diaphanous, star-studded,dreamlike, rose strewn, elfin, birdsong, Zephyrus, pulsating, silence, hush, tra la la, turgid, verdant, rosebuds, camellias, lindens, pastoral, heavenward, pulsating, sartorial.
gas tank, hammer, shopping list, dog food, can opener, wrench, pillow slip, garden hose, scrub brush, dishwasher, washcloth, comb, Ziplock bag, pencil, phonograph needle, emery board, shoelace, eyelash, curtain rod, stapler, bubble gum, Oreo cookie, peanut butter, corned beef sandwich , sauerkraut, blander, fingernail clippers, measuring stick, pencil sharpener, gas tank, shoe polish, Dodge truck, table saw, ski boot, cowboy boot, bra strap, ironing board, dill pickle,
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Pingback: Borrowed Love Poem | lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown
How humourous and sweet at the same time 🙂
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Judy, I have not come across anybody on this site who can convey such depth of emotion and wealth of memory with even half the verbal skill you employ. That was a really soul wrenching and heart thumping post. Thanks. Unless of course Morrie wrote it, in which case say woof for me! 🙂 Anton
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Ha… Thanks, Anton. You always lift my day.
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I am turgid with thy love.
What a kaleidoscope of images that makes in my fevered brain!
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Ha… Blog erotica?
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Lovely indeed:
“You are my ironing board and my blender—
what churns me up and straightens me out.
Everything in the world is caught up in you.”
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Well if you picture me as all of those damn things, why don’t you just love me as ME~? You know a warm loving body with lots of wit, and a keen mind~?
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I think he did.. that was the point.
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Why are your comments closed on your Katydid post? https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/10/04/katydid-just-what-did-katy-do/
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I saw that too JUDY and really do not know why. The poem was from a long time ago and you know that I just still do not know all the absurd, illogical, preposterous and stupid inner workings of WordPress. Even you, who seem to be more attuned to it’s coming and goings, have your eidolic problems with it.
And you know that I am so busy just thinking up asinine remarks, post and poems to entertain you with, that I do not have time to learn anything about this “fine” service~!
So maybe you have the answer for me, my edification on the simple things, such as this, just do not take preference any more. (but I will look, I promise~!!) Might even find that “repost button” while I am at it~!
Oh Emilia and Maria just arrived, so I must go find my ear plugs, or go sit on the porch where only the sound of water falling is what I will hear. They brought me eggs, flapjacks, and other FOOD, so I will share it with Tami on the porch. I love those ladies and enjoy giving them a ‘hard time’ talking, but that vacuum just drives me crazy~! Actually I also have central vacuum, which is quiet, but somehow a little hot wheels car got sucked up the pipe and I am too lazy to go blow it back out.
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You must learn to play with your Hot Wheels outside!!! The reblog was done yesterday..only to satisfy my own worry as turns out only I could not see the original. So strange. Cool here again today. I’m in bed lying on my heated mattress which is the only warm place I can find. My hands feel like they’ve been skiing.
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Oh I forget that you are a bit high (in altitude, not otherwise) and it may get cool there at night, now if you compared your “man in the poem” to a heating pad instead of an egg beater, you may have a better partners memory.
I was always cold when I lived in Bogota, it is so high, and because the temperature never changes much, no homes are heated, so in dressing like them I was always cold when I visited friends, though they felt warm . Embarrassed as I was, I sent home for “long Johns” (BVD’s) which I wore under my cloths and they never knew that I was just a cold gringo, though the very warm ruana was great on the outside. I would spend a week or so in the hot damp jungle, then come back to my office, high up in Bogota, so it was difficult to get used to the sudden change, like going from summer to winter and back again, here in the states.
No I take care of my hot wheels, but “el hijo de Emilia” gets into Tami and My toy box and got a “hot wheel” out. The central vacuum has one outlet under the kitchen cabinets, where they can sweep the dust up to the outlet. Emilia has a six year old who was playing in there and if you push the flap, the vacuum starts going and that outlet became a big sucking tunnel. ZAP~!! Actually the vacuum unit is under my bedroom, in a small room where the house water pumps, filters, vacuum, storage, etc are located. All I would need to do is go reverse the hose to it and it would puke that car back out, but the ladies seem to like the big whirlwind one that makes all the noise and I have not bothered with it, because all the other hose fittings are working OK. Have you noticed that they often shy away from our modern conveniences~?
Oh they have now finished and are going home. I paid them for next week and gave them that time off, along with a turkey~!…. I am having prime rib with friends for the holiday. Shirley had a “no fail” recipe for prime rib, and a friend will use it to fix our dinner. I helped the girls by blowing the leaves off the gallery then told them that I called my power blower, “Maria segundo, llena de aire caliente”. She has worked for me for 15 years…Her sister Emilia is not quiet as good, but Maria makes her do a great job. Very fine people~! I only have them come once a week as I do not need them around me otherwise. She takes my shirts etc home with her and washes and irons them there. That plus bringing me breakfast, is a real joy to me and makes my life out here a happy one.
SAM
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