Category Archives: Poem

Nightmare II: The Sunday Whirl Wordle 643, Feb 25, 2024

                         

                           Nightmare II

Anchored in this groggy dream, unaware of passing
of time or space or anything that I am amassing.
Triggers from the past float by, pale and half-recalled.
Corridors of memories––narrow, densely walled.
No way to check these stories from a cursed past.
How could we have  known how long past memories might last?
The cattle stir, the hoot owl hoots and night birds sing their song––
accompaniment to nightmares that draw us, too, along.

 

The prompt words for The Sunday Whirl are: aware passing stirred check groggy trigger pale dream space anchor cursed low

Lilacs and Popsicles for dVerse Poets

Lilacs and Popsicles

A fresh whiff of lilacs on the evening breeze
sends me off in paroxysms—sneeze on sneeze on sneeze.
tuberoses give me headaches, jasmine flowers make me ill.
Whenever dates wear aftershave, I have to take a pill.

Pinesol makes me nauseous. I’d rather smell the dirt!
And please do not use fabric softener on my favorite shirt.
I can’t believe so many folks enjoy a scented candle,
for they’re another stinky thing I simply cannot handle.

When friends bring friends to visit me, they eschew scented lotions
and tell their friends to do the same, ‘cause I have these strange notions.
What I like to smell is dill, and soil soaked by rain.
The kind of things I like to smell I’m hard-pressed to explain.

Who likes the scent of curry or cabbage in the hall?
But I admit, I like them! They don’t bother me at all.
I love the smell of Popsicles—my favorite is cherry.
It’s floral scents that I abhor, so weddings make me wary.

I hug the bride and kiss the groom, contribute to her trousseau.
But I must always hold my nose and hurry as I do so.
Orange blossoms are the worst, along with the carnation.
Even roses, I admit, are an abomination!

I really do like flowers, but only how they look.
My favorite kinds of odors are kinds that you can cook!
Chocolate cake or pudding and hot dogs on the grill
are smells that inspire ecstasy—that certain little thrill.

Vanilla poured in pudding, bananas mashed for bread—
swirl around my nostrils and end up in my head.
Such romantic odors. What stories they do tell
of culinary orgasms and itchings they will quell.

So if you want to pleasure me, please, for heaven’s sake,
leave the flowers at the shop and simply bring me cake!

 

For dVerse Poets: Lilacs.  Image by Karo on Unsplash.

See how others responded to the prompt HERE.

“Sirens” For Sunday Whirl Wordle 642, Feb 18, 2024

Sirens

Mermaids spin their slippery thread of grass from ocean’s floor,
then string it with the beads of glass and risk their skins for more.
Surfacing to comb the beach for glass rolled  round by waves,
then sit in all their finery, enticing sailor knaves
to forfeit breath and life to brave the rocky ocean’s roar 
and creamy waves that bear them to a fatal shore.

 

Words for The Sunday Whirl Wordle are: surfacing breath slippery cream bear sit glass spin beads thread risk skins Image by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash.

The Clown, For MVB, Feb 17, 2024

Will you forgive me if I just give a link to a poem I wrote about a clown ten years ago? HERE is the link.

For MVB-Clown

Shards..For Sunday Whirl Wordle 641, Feb 11, 2024

Shards

Untethered shards of nightmares burst out of dark to day
to scar reality with what we hoped we’d put away.
Words of fear and loathing—guilts once left in the past
rise out of dreams to plague us. Lost shadows once more cast
against the broken light of mornings, onslaughts we must fight
to claim the new day’s pleasures that are within our right
to enjoy without being afraid of chaos in our pasts,
for after all, the future is all that really lasts.

For Sunday Whirl Wordle 641 the prompt words are: untethered shards nightmare burst scar words rights light broken afraid lost rise  Image from Unsplash.

A Stitch in Time For Wordle 640

Sidewalks for MVB, Jan 30, 2024

Sidewalks

Be it narrow, be it wide,
A sidewalk’s made for side-to-side.
Slab by slab and stone by stone,
I do not want to walk alone.

MVB’s prompt today is Sidewalk

In A Pinch

In a Pinch

A pinch of this, a pinch of that.
A pinch of salt or pinch of fat.
What is held between one’s fingers,
the thought of it most surely lingers—
those grains of salt to lick off you
or thoughts of belly fat to rue.

 

The dVerse Quadrille prompt today is pinch.
To see how others have responded to the prompt, go HERE.
Image by Ksenia Makagono on Unsplash.

Gossip: For Wordle 638, Jan 21, 2024

Gossip

Words curl and flicker like a whip,
unfurled from tongue and launched by lip.
Born in malice, spread through spite,
they disturb sleep and split the night.
Scarring spirit, wounding soul,
as though that is a cruel game’s goal.

Karma

In dreams they faintly circle ’round,
tip-toeing on familiar ground.
Some call them nightmares, to let them be.
Others say that they are key,
these rumors once more freshly cast,
as warnings of misdeeds long past
that if remembered, we won’t redo,
and thus ill-feelings we won’t renew.

Words for the Sunday Whirl today are: curl faint flicker circle tip words split spirit born scar key game.   Photo by Ben White on Unsplash.

Small Town South Dakota

Believe it or not, this was our main street, two blocks long!

Still Life With A Small Town Girl

For many years when I was small and far into my teens,
my summer days were filled with little else than magazines
and books and all the other things a girl in a small town
brings into her summers just to make the days less brown.

Day after day of reading soon led to dreaming, and
my shade beneath the cherry tree became a foreign land.
I did not know the name of it, but in this foreign place
the people did such lovely things. They kept a faster pace.

There were many things to see and people who liked doing—
circuses and carnivals, badminton and horse-shoeing,
imaginings and plays and travels. People who liked dancing.
Instead of trudging down the street, these people would be prancing.

I dreamed such dreams of bigger towns, and far-away towns, too.
All summer, I lay in the grass, dreaming what I’d do
when I was so much older and could go out on my own.
I’d wander off into the world. Explore the great unknown.

Now six decades later, I have done it all—
so many of those things I yearned to do when I was small.
I’ve been to places far and wide—Africa and Peru.
In England, France, Australia—I found so much to do.

Plays and concerts, dances, films, museums, garden walks.
Lectures, movies, workshops, classes, roundtables and talks.
Tours and treks and trips and sorties—guided meditations.
Somehow life seemed fuller packed with exotic vacations.

But now that I am seventy-six, I’d appreciate
if all this activity would finally abate.
I dream of slower days that I’d spend dreaming in the shade
where all my memories of days spent doing would just fade

into the past and leave me to dream here in this place,
swinging in my hammock, at a slower pace.
Leaving my activity to stream from head to pen,
filling up the page with all the places I have been.

Thus making sense of why I had to go and go,
speeding up the days that back then seemed to me so slow.
I guess I had to travel to find others of my kind
to teach me that life’s riches are mainly in the mind!

 

For dVerse Poets, we are to write a poem about a city. If you’d like to see more photos of my small town and environs, go HERE. And you can see how others responded to the prompt HERE.