Disclaimer
He epitomizes henpecked. He’s disheveled and confused.
It’s monstrous the degree to which this househusband’s abused.
I’d be concerned except, you see, they’re only playing house
and it is my three-year-old who plays at being spouse.
I don’t know where she gets it, for her pattern can’t be me.
I am the perfect paragon in our family.
But since it’s also true that monkeys do as monkeys see,
it must be that she gets it from the movies or TV.
Prompt words for today are dishevel, henpecked, concern, epitomize and monstrous.
Shy Lover
Express the volume of my love? My dear, I cannot wait,
for I have pined for these long years just to elucidate
how my pulse rate elevates when you enter the room.
I’ve kept love in a reservoir, here in passion’s womb,
but now it’s time for it to swell and burst the gates of love.
The soaring of the arrow, the cooing of the dove,
the flowers and the chocolate will convey, perhaps
what has gone unsaid so long—a necessary lapse
for lips that do not know the way to say the things they long for—
what some men say in poetry or perhaps compose a song for—
I carry in my hands for you, hoping you’ll catch my drift
that my passion for you is expressed in every gift.
Prompt words are elucidate, pulse, reservoir, express and volume. The photo was taken by me at in kissing alley in Guanajuato. The legend is of lovers who could lean out from their balconies and kiss. Her father found out and there was a sad ending. If you want to read the supposed “true” story of this balcony, go HERE.
Sargasso Sea
Your fingertips trace patterns on my open palms,
moons on my forearms, stars on my shoulders.
You void the aches and tensions of a stressful day,
unconsciously skim over borders where no lesser traveler
would be allowed to go. Remote places become your territory.
Strong lines develop where you’ve lightly traced.
The Captain Cook of seduction,
you have skirted my boundaries, charted my seas.
Now my waters part before you and welcome you in—
complicit prisoner of my Sargasso Sea.
The Sunday Whirl Wordle prompts today are: remote unconsciously cook tracing moon patterns strong star void over fingertips lines, Photos by Birmingham Muse and Nick Moore on Unsplash.
Soulful Severance
I’m cutting off my spirit guide and giving him his severance,
for lately I’ve been feeling that I’m lacking in my reverence
for his dapper manner and instructions way too lyrical.
I find that I prefer experiences more empirical.
I’m tired of being programed by a creature less than physical,
finding his decisions to be outmoded and quizzical.
From now on, I’ll be of this world and quite a bit less soulful,
living my life to the hilt with mentors much less doleful.
Prompt words today are: guide, severance, lyrical, dapper and program. Image by JR Korpa on Unsplash.
C’est la Vie
This body she had been assigned did not seem prone to cooperate. As she reached for a salad, her hand veered off course and selected a large bowl of lasagne instead, then bypassed the carrot juice for a chilled glass of rose. She did not understand. She had been led to believe that that part of her that she had brought to the body would be in control of the brain, but that did not seem to be so. A small portion of the cheese separated itself from the body of the pasta and pooled on the plate. The body smacked its lips as it took a first succulent bite. The lasagne was delicious. She fought the reaction but it was too late. She had already experienced it.
Another body sat down beside her, to her left. It was a male body and upon the table it placed a plate of salad and a glass of carrot juice. “That looks delicious,” the body said, motioning toward her plate,
Immediately, she recognized something in this body. Something of her—as though they had somehow mixed up components. She had heard of this happening. She saw him raise the carrot juice up to his lips, casting his glance over her glass of wine longingly, regretfully.
As if on cue, she raised her own glass to her lips. “C’est la vie,” she thought, but did not give voice to it. If this was to be a dissolute life, it was not of her choosing. Some trick of fate or oversight of administration. She lifted her fork. She would be principled in her next life. It was not her fault, this slip. She might as well enjoy it.
The prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 1 for 2022 is based on Robert Hass’s remarkable prose poem, “A Story About the Body.” The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image. Image by Joshua Chun on Unsplash.
Antipodes
Forever might be short, but never is much longer.
Hating may be brutal, but loving is much stronger.
Cords that bind together may hold at any angle,
but broken bonds of friendship are the ones more apt to strangle.
All things have their antipode and all things have their better.
What we wrap around us may hug or it may fetter.
In a world of opposites, be careful what you choose.
Everything we reach for is something we stand to lose.
Here is the NaPoWriMo early bird prompt: https://www.napowrimo.net/one-day-to-go-and-an-early-bird-prompt-3/ which is to write a poem based on a line from Emily Dickinson. The line I chose is: “Forever might be short.” Image by Oleg Oprisco. https://www.oprisco.com/
Tall Tales: The Rest of the Story
It is my conjecture that you’re given to embellish
all of your old stories that you recite with such relish.
Your lyrical relation at such volume and such length
has informed us of your valor, your virility and strength.
Your life stories, meant to guide us, seem to form a primer for
how to conduct a perfect life behavior but what’s more,
should tell us about settlements and suits that might occur
because in spite of all the truths you proclaim and aver,
folks with all the answers can be a pain to bear—
the sort that former comrades want to get out of their hair.
So former wives and partners might seek to find surcease
by divorce or severance of contract or of lease.
So, after you have told your tales of glory at your leisure,
will you tell your tales of suit, foreclosure and of seizure?
If there’s a moral to the story, I have to say that it’s
that those who tell the longest stories tend to leave out the best bits.
Prompt words for today are: guide, conjecture, lyrical, relish and settlement. Image by Camila Quintero on Unsplash.
Cryogenic Ponderings
I hear that they’re researching cryogenic preservation,
and I admit I view it with a certain hesitation.
I’m drawn to such longevity, but must admit I worry
about what aftereffects such a heedless act might curry.
As wily as I now may be, as cunning and as clever,
will irresistible qualities remain with me forever?
Will I be packed with garlic to keep me fresh and bugless?
Will I still be so sexy after eons going hugless?
Can minds be kept as fresh as flesh? Can kind hearts be conserved?
Can intellect and soul be saved and memory preserved?
What good will body do one in a thousand years or more
if they can not conserve those things we hold here in our core?
Prompt words today are drawn, irresistible, wily, garlic and cryogenic.
Image by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash.
Not Missin’ Dissin’
I’m inclined to winnow out
friends who grouse and whine and pout.
I prefer to share my housing
with companions much more rousing.
It’s not that I’m beyond reproach,
for my mood’s been known to encroach
upon the moods of those around me,
yet, within reason, I surround me
with folks of a happier bent
who, if they rail and curse and vent,
do so at a minimum
and once they’ve finished feeling glum,
do not make their own frustration
part of my reeducation.
One time or two I’ll gladly listen
to your pointless constant dissin’.
But if you’re gloomy day and night,
kindly grant me a respite.
Put my phone number on hold
if you just wish to bitch and scold.
You can always reinstall
my number when you’ve cured y’all
of your pointless railing at
the traffic, neighbors or the cat.
Fair weather friend? Indeed, I’m not.
I’ll soothe your brow and stir your pot,
but I will not be joining thee
in the quagmire of your misery.
Prompt words today are reinstall, reproach, frustration, winnow and housing. Image by Nik Shuliahin on Unsplash.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 