Couldn’t resist reblogging this for the dVerse Poets Restaurant Prompt.
The Prompt today was to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word.
“Dining Alone at the Maria Bonita Restaurant Bar”
Smoldering.
Señor Garcia is smoking today.
Below him,
Maria Phoenix lies on satin sheets
on the wall of Maria Bonita Restaurant Bar.
It is a small palapa restaurant––soft orange front with
hot pink trim–– that I’ve driven by hundreds of times before;
and every time, I’ve wanted to come in, but haven’t.
Now today, suddenly,
I don’t want to go home
and so my car turns in across the carretera.
I am the lone customer.
The cook and waiter
spring to action.
Totopos for him to bring,
a fire for her to light.
This is a fish restaurant
and I am a non-fish
eater, choosing between
quesadillas and beans
or a hamburger and fries.
Needless to say, I’m not here for the food.
I am…
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The Vacant Lot
The vapors of a morning mist rise from the vacant lot.
It is a tract forgotten— our neighborhood’s biggest blot.
Each person’s in denial as to their distribution
of building rubble and garbage that’s their daily contribution
to this precarious tumble of rubble, junk and weeds
that every year grows higher and in whose jumble breeds
mosquitoes, rats and killer bees that invade my yard
making neighborly coexistence exceptionally hard.
Good fences make good neighbors I’ve found to be a myth.
To see the truth of this old adage, we must strip it to its pith.
For the stone wall that borders it, alas, has been infested
by a million angry worker bees whose well-being’s invested
in invading all their neighbors, driving dogs and human folks
back into their houses to avoid their neighbors’ pokes.
A precarious situation, at best, dear reader, for,
there is a dilemma present at its core.
If we want to eat their honey must we put up with their stings?
Must we coincide with every danger nature brings?
For the ending of the story, if you care, you now must wait.
For I will recite it at a later date.
Today’s prompt words are vapor, precarious, myth, tract, denial and vacant lot.
Cups of Java or Cups of Tea? Me, I just need my:
Morning Couplets
Every single day for years, my morning’s not replete
until my poem is published—polished and complete.
I meander through my sentences until I think they’re done,
and then I herd them into shape—each metaphor and pun.
My need is pathological to get them all just right.
I love words’ sensuality, their pathos and their bite.
Though some have a reluctance to show up when I call them,
there’s a satisfaction when I finally recall them.
What would I do with mornings if I had no words to play with?
There’d be nothing else for me to find to fill my day with!
Prompts for today are meander, sentence, pathological, replete, reluctance.
Reader’s Choice. Do you have a question you’d like to ask me or is there a topic you’d like to suggest? If so, please let me know and I’ll pick one suggestion a week to write about. Sorta setting up my own little personal prompt site, but others are welcome to write a post from the prompts as well and to link them as comments on my week’s post whenever they wish. Let’s see if this works. What do you want to hear me blather on about or to write a poem or song about? Reader’s Choice!!!! Please note that I won’t be making up prompts myself. I will, however, be publishing all the comments and all of the suggestions and if anyone else wants to write on one of the topics and post a link to comments, that will be most welcome. See? I repeated that invitation twice!
Midnight Communion
Grass dampened by the night air sprouts beneath me as I lie
here beneath the swirling stars that spark an empty sky.
The moon sketches my shadow against the garden wall,
temporary art that holds me in its thrall.
Caught up in the orbit of a world that must astound me,
I am sister to a universe that’s breathing all around me.
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 565. the words are: damp stars sparks swirl sisters breathe empty sprouting shadows sketch orbit art. Image by Josh Miller @Unsplash.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 