Category Archives: Poem

Marital Disagreement

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Marital Disagreement

When anguish becomes volatile and without your prior detection,
things are lofted toward you–lamps thrown in your direction.
As frying pans and glasses come at you through the air,
take my advice, it would be best if you were still not there.
You’d better listen to my words, for I’ll not tell you twice.
With such items sailing toward you to “Duck!!!” is good advice.
It’s best to listen to our friends for help when times get tough.
You need not express gratitude. Your friendship is enough.

Prompt words today are duck, direction, anguish, volatile and gratitude.

Secondary Research

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Secondary Research

She found tales of chivalry wholly outlandish.
Her dates wore suspenders. No swords did they brandish.
She, in return, was no sexy lithe lynx,
her love-life devoid of any hijinks.

In short, she was prim and her suitors the same,
her romance as mainstream as romances came—
dates for the movies or dinner or trips
to the local tea room for crumpets and sips.

No passionate kisses. No secret elation.
Visual thrills were her sole titillation,
for secretly, she was addicted to porn.
She viewed it at midnight. Sometimes in the morn.

Although she’d never do the things that they did,
it was the single thing that she hid.
Everything else was there to be seen:
decent and wholesome and saintly and clean.

It was her belief that a life meant for viewing
should consist more of thinking of things than of doing,
and so she kept private her secret adventures,
safe from derision and gossip and censures.

As the town’s sole librarian, she was aware
that this was a side of her she’d never dare
to reveal to the world, and yet she pursued it,
knowing that no one else knew that she viewed it.

Like high adventure, such sexual fun
was best viewed from afar, but never done.
When it came to things sensual, sticky and hairy,
she preferred that her research remain secondary.

 

Prompts today are jinx, visual, prim, outlandish and mainstream. Image by Damla Azkan on Unsplash. Used with permission.

Note: While primary research involves active participation from the researcher themselves, secondary research involves the summary or synthesis of data and literature that has been organized and published by others.

A Speedy Release

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A Speedy Release

A fellow by the name of Kurtz
never sipped when he could Xertz.
No matter what the size or name
of liquid, it was just the same.
Milk or water, Coke or beer
took just seconds to disappear.

When asked to give an interview,
He said, “Please meet me in the loo,”
and when he rose, most resolutely,
the news reporter said, “Absolutely,”
hustling after as Kurtz sped
out of the barroom to the head,

whereupon he caused to pass
that liquid lately in his glass.
Thus did the newsman get his lead.
To simplify, he said, “Kurtz peed,
beating his record for fast sipping,
by three seconds, stream to dripping!

 

Prompt words today are interview, simplify, resolute, xertz (to gulp down quickly and greeditly) and size.

Evolution

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Evolution

Evolution’s done with behemoths. They take up too much space.
They were too slow and lumbering—lacking in poise and grace.
For this they paid the penalty of their eradication,
replaced by small creatures who consumed a smaller ration.

The intention was that humans would be weaker and less needy.
Who knew that they would turn into creatures so cruel and greedy?
Anything but genial, they grabbed what they could grab,
bringing devastation via bomb and gun and lab.

If larger didn’t work, it’s clear that smaller did no better.
Once again, nature’s creations have turned out her debtor.
She extracts her interest through flood and hurricane,
drought and deadly plagues and other methods more arcane.

Working up from smaller—from the atom and the quark,
nature reached its summit in Jurassic Park,
then created on a smaller scale ’til it arrived at man—
Homo sapiens her newest failed flash in the pan.

Now, where will she go from here? Tinier or bigger?
Will her next experiment be flyer, swimmer, digger?
Will she rue the excesses of the human brain
Or will she make the same mistake over once again?

Can she find a way at last to alter the machine,
by infusing it, at last, with the human gene?
Is a cyborg race of men the way that nature’s going?
Will mankind be coupled with things whirring, blinking, glowing?

Will we all be halfway clones of who we were before?
Will we think past generations to be the stuff of lore?
Have humans made themselves passé or will they rise once more—
a little less self-serving , less blemished at the core?

Prompt words today are behemoth, space, penalty, genial.

Misnomer

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Misnomer

It doesn’t need a passport to pass from place to place.
It has no hands or feet or lips. It barely has a face.
Contrary to rumor, it is neither deaf nor mute.
It does not plan agendas nor chart its daily route.

Most beautiful of insects, it flutters here and there,
settling on a flower or sometimes in your hair.
Not likely to be overweight. In fact, I would be stunned
if I ever saw a butterfly the least bit rotund.

Elegant and whimsical and flittery and fluttery,
I think it’s a misnomer that a butterfly is buttery.
In touch, they are akin to tissue paper or a doily.
They are not soft or slimy, neither slippery nor oily.

And so I hereby must refute the insect name recorder.
When it came to this one name, letters got out of order.
I think there was confusion when recording the word butterfly.
What its namer should have said was that it was a flutterby!

Prompt words today are butterfly, route, orotund and passport. (I exercised a bit of poetic license here and substituted the word “rotund” for “orotund.” What’s one little letter among friends?)

Supine Flu

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Supine Flu

Do you struggle when the alarm goes off every morning? If you have a really hard time, you could have something called dysania. This means you simply can’t get out of bed for about 1 to 2 hours after you wake up.

Doctors have reported an outbreak of dysania.
Folks suffer from the syndrome from Missouri to Albania.
It’s interfering with world markets and sustainability,
and athletes have determined it’s affecting their agility.

Campers seeking all the pristine beauty of the wilderness
report that they are sleeping in and therefore they are hiking less.
Card sharks spend more time at home, bed-bound in their lair
for hours in the morning, playing solitaire.

Moms trying to spark  interest in starting their kids’ days,
are equally lethargic, and prone to merely laze.
When it comes to what to call the curse, science is still vague,
for It seems most of the scientists have come down with the plague.

They put off their experiments and their cogitations
in lieu of morning lollings-about in their habitations.
Coffee shops are suffering and worldwide, gyms are closing
as people give up other morning hangouts for reposing.

The whole world has gone lazy and is given to the lying-in.
So much for morning exercise, conditioning and getting thin.
And although most joggers have ceased morning exploring,
Sealy Posturepedic stocks have been reported soaring!

They’ve tried to conduct seminars from New York to the Hague
to try to solve the puzzle of this early morning ague,
but the lazy attendees have said we’ll have to guess,
for science cannot seem to conquer this new laziness!

They haven’t even named it yet, so in their usual fashion,
world wits have exercised their nomenclature-driven passion.
Since the scientists are sleeping in, they do not have a clue
that the whole world has agreed that they have the Supine Flu.

 

 

Prompt words today are shark, spark, dysania, pristine and sustainability.

Craft Maintenance

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Photo by Simon Goetz on Unsplash, used with permission.

Craft Maintenance

Love is like a speedboat, threatening disaster
as we plummet toward our fate, going ever faster.

In youth, insecurity helps to fuel the pace
as our fear of failure keeps us in the race.

Thus is our pursuit of love fueled by the chase,
but as we proceed in life, this may not be the case.

Our boats fill up with children and the race  soon ceases.
The boards begin to shrink and paint curls off in pieces.

Still, since marriage is a boat we need to keep afloat,
love is our incentive to renovate the boat!

 

Photo by Anne Nygard on Unsplash, used with permission.

Prompt words today are pursuit, renovate, incentive and boat.

March 7

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March 7

Measures taken for my comfort are way beyond the norm.
My sofa is commodious, my blanket snug and warm.
I’ve opened up the damper and lit a cheerful fire.
The coffee table’s covered with things I might desire:
snacks both sweet and savory, a small flask of gin,
bottles of iced tonic for me to put it in,
magazines and books on tape installed upon my phone.
I’ll barely have to stir now that I’m left alone.

Yet, all these creature comforts won’t make up for a world
where there is not another loving body curled
at the sofa’s other end. Perfection is perverse
when I have not another with whom I may converse.
The hottest fire is lukewarm, though it may crack and spark.
Its brightest flame does nothing to dispel the dark.
I’ve been more years without you now than those we spent together.
I’ve built a life and learned to live without a secure tether.

Other loves fill in a part of what you took away,
and yet when I remember, on this our wedding day,
how you might have been here had fate not removed you,
I wonder if this new life we had planned would have behooved you.
What life takes away it fills in with other pleasures.
It does no good to rail against all those severe measures
it takes to move us on into new lives that we choose
to compensate for all the old loves that we lose.

Exactly 34 years ago, we chose to follow heart.
Then 15 years later, our pathways split apart.
You began your new adventure, though not the one we’d planned,
while only I pursued our dream in this foreign land.
Though anniversaries weren’t our thing, a friend thinks to remind me,
and for once our wedding date I cannot put behind me.

 

Please click on photos to enlarge them.

For all but one of our 15 years together, Bob and I forgot our anniversary and on the one year we celebrated it, we later found out we’d celebrated it on the wrong day. I’ve told of this before, and this year, as usual, I would have forgotten it if Forgottenman (ironically) had not reminded me that it was Bob’s and my wedding anniversary date. Somehow, that reminder and the prompt words led to this poem being written. And, I had to light a little candle at a shrine constructed to commemorate our wedding day. The plans to move to Mexico, by the way, were mutual ones. Sadly, Bob passed away before we could move into the house we had purchased there. This is the house I’ve lived in for the past 20 years.

Prompt words today are blanket, article, lukewarm, commodious and world. And for dVerse Poets Open Link Night

Knit and Purl

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Image by Ursuala Castillo on Unsplash, Used with permission.

Knit and Purl

Back and forth between my worlds, a steady pace I keep,
weaving between consciousness and much-needed sleep.
I interlace the two into what becomes a life:
dreamer, writer,  parent, teacher, artist, wife.

I am both what I dream of and the one who dreams,
and somehow in the dreaming, I join me at the seams.
Thus I am both facer and the one I’m facing.
I’m in the dream and out of it with both parts interlacing.

Which part of me goes with me when I leave this world?
Will it be the knitter or the one who purled?
As this fabric of my being slowly comes unknit,
both the knitter and the purler will unravel it.

Image by Judy Dykstra-Brown

 

 

 

 

Providence

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Providence

The angriest skies contain the germ of the next day’s sun.
No matter what pervades your day, once that day is done,
your prospects for a better day already have been cast,
for the material of our future is gathered from our past.

Clear skies are born from thunder clouds and summer days from mist.
Tomorrow’s field of flowers is held in the tempest’s fist.
You may call me Pollyanna, but I can attest
to the truth that oftentimes the worst is followed by the best.

 

 

 

 

 Prompt words today are clear skies,contain, angry,pervade and material.