Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

Marrying Up

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Marrying Up

The hippie that she married was excessively hirsute,
which was her final reason for giving him the boot.
But since her alimony was embarrassingly meager,
perhaps we can forgive her for being oh so eager

to try to find a richer man—a man of good repute
exceedingly well-barbered, who wore a business suit.
She knew that she could find him if she hung out at the Ritz,
so she dug out her old three-inch-heels and donned a bit of glitz.

Adopting her most snobbish air, she hung out at the bar
to try to find this different man who was more up to par.
She knew him when she saw him.  He’d a Rolex on his arm
and she was sure if she exuded her usual class and charm,

she could attract his notice and flirt and joke and tease
until within an hour she had brought him to his knees.
It’s true he came right over and was smitten from the start.
and within an hour or two, she knew they’d never part.

He dined her and he wined her and he smothered her in flowers.
She gloried in her craftiness and her seductive powers.
It was a whirlwind courtship. When they honeymooned in Prague,
she knew her social standing had gone up a cog.

The hotel that they stayed at was the very best.
Anything she wanted appeared at his behest.
Fresh pastries from the kitchen, whisked to them piping hot.
Shops with furs and diamonds. She had to have the lot.

She said, “Dear, never leave me.” He said, “I never will,”
yet the final day at check out, when they handed her the bill,
surprised, she held it out to him, and then she murmured, “Honey?”
as he sprinted for the door, saying, “I thought you had the money!”

 

(Illustration from Pinterest.) The prompt words today were hirsute, eager, alliance and adopt.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/rdp-thursday-hirsute/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/27/fowc-with-fandango-eager/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/alliance/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/adopt

 

Should I or Shouldn’t I ?!

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The word prompts today are inspire, surmount, enthralling, mistrust and today I’m adding Matt’s new prompt site to my inspiration list.  His command is that we invent a new punctuation mark and write a post inspired by it. What would you do if you were given four words and a situation and told to use them in a poem or story? You’d probably wind up with a poem as ridiculous as this one is!!

Should I or Shouldn’t I?!

I am plagued by indecision.
Should I choose that vain incision
leading to the skin division
that might lead to the derision
of those who might choose nature’s pace
written on their neck and face?

I must admit I do mistrust
those who deal with jowls and bust
by removing parts of them,
and so I hem and haw and hem.
As enthralling as it would be
to be confronted with less of me,

I can’t surmount the fear that I
would be the first face lift to die!
Or,  lovely as other ladies look,
I fear I’d end up in a book
of great disasters and that mine
would be a face most leonine!

Or if I had a chest reduction,
all the cutting and the suction
would lead to results most distressing.
What would happen, I am guessing,
is that the surgeon would have the gall
to leave me with no breasts at all!

If I had need to punctuate
a sentence that concerns my fate,
I think that it would culminate
with a mark that had a mate.
Although I am inspired to do it,
another part seems to eschew it,

?! would be the punctuation
designating consternation.
It’s what  I’d have to use until
I decide if I won’t or will.
Half of it anticipation,
the other half, my hesitation!

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/26/wednesday-rdp-inspire/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/26/fowc-with-fandango-surmount/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/26/enthralling/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/mistrust
https://normalhappenings.com/2018/09/26/leaving-your-mark-daily-inkling/ (Matt’s first prompt is to invent a new punctuation mark and write a post inspired by it.)

An Ex-Pat’s Credo

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Click on any photo to enlarge all.  The Poem “An Ex-Pat’s Credo” follows the photos.

An Ex-Pat’s Credo

Some may think my generation’s recent mass migration 
to be a “giving up” on life—a certain violation.
That rubric that we stay engaged to ease our children’s lives—
to witness births of babies (then their twos, threes, fours and fives)
may not be the paradigm we choose when we are older.
Some of us want changes, and some of us are bolder.

We want to spend remaining years discovering and delving.
Do you think it’s selfish to continue with our “selving?”
Families are wonderful and we love them well,
but parents can’t be always living by the bell.
Once a child is  raised and off on their next adventure,
their parents have not signed any articles of indenture. 

They, too, can now be off to see what else their life may hold,
and though that path’s not right for all, before they’re very old
they might desire a warmer place or country that is new,
but  what they choose to leave behind is certainly not you.
They’ll carry you in hearts and minds, and they’ll still hold you dear.
They’ll Skype you and they’ll Facebook. They’ll visit every year.

They’ll be there for graduations, celebrations and each birth.
They’ll share your family’s traumas, their successes and their  mirth. 
But they won’t be waiting at home for you to call,
for the children to find time for them between school and football
and proms and camp and movies and parties with their friends,
for they well remember that the schedule never ends!

See this as rehearsal for the day your kids will go 
off to other places to learn and change and grow.
You’ll wish them well and though you’re sad, will send them to their fate.
and then perhaps decide there’s more than kids to educate.
You’ll then be free to concentrate on new states of existence—
free we hope as we’ve been from their loud insistence

that you spend the whole rest of your life putting them first
no matter what your own dreams are, no matter how you thirst
to see what there is left in life, perhaps, like us, to travel
not through a wish to leave behind, not seeking to unravel,
but rather like two busy bees intent upon their hive,
demonstrating by their acts that they are still alive!

The prompt words today are migration, violation, rubric (an established rule, tradition, or custom) and concentrate.  Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/rdp-tuesday-migration/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/25/fowc-with-fandango-violation/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/rubric/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/concentrate

Provincetown Harbor (For dVerse Poets Quadrille Monday)

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For Quadrille Monday on dVerse Poet’s Pub

Office Courtship

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Office Courtship

He found her shy and taciturn and not a little quaint.
She found him impetuous and lacking in restraint.
That personal space she guarded he invaded every day.
Her solo act he tried to crash, yet still she ran away.

He brought her flowers and chocolates. He courted her with rigor,
and yet the space between them seemed only to get bigger.
He had run out of wooing room. His prospects were too dim.
He felt that he had gone too far out that proverbial limb.

His thoughts that he could win her were just a wishful whim.
And so at last, he must give up. The lass was just too prim.
He did not seek her company. He did not text or call.
He gave a mere polite “Hello,” when they met in the hall.

Her flower vase sat empty. No chocolates in her dish.
It seemed that he had given her, finally, her wish.
She checked her phone charge. It was fine.
She waited for his pleas to dine

or see a film or to go dancing.
More and more, friends found her glancing
down the hallway, and they guessed
what she looked for, so they pressed

her for an answer as they queried
about why she always tarried
in the coffee room when she
usually brought her tea

in a thermos from her house.
Why she wore that low-cut blouse,
why she seemed a bit distracted
and when he passed, she overacted.

They all knew that overall
she’d gone too far to build a wall.
They told her if she wanted him,
she had to make that wall a scrim

and turn her light on from inside—

to throw her solo act aside
and show him who she really was.
It became the office buzz

then, how the one who’d been the quarry
set her cap to woo and marry
one she’d formerly eschewed—
thinking him too brash and rude.

And this is how she turned the tide.
She bought a card and wrote inside,
“Faint heart never won fair maid,”
bought flowers and chocolate and paid

a string quartet to serenade him
and by doing so, she made him
once more resume all his wooing,
add his billing to her cooing.

And thus goes office romance.
Fellows given half a chance
will resume what they once started
and if they are not weak-hearted

wind up with the prize they sought,
forgetting that the one who fought
the romance and sought to repeal it
was the one to finally seal it!

 

The photo I used to illustrate this poem is of my nephew Jeff and his wife Julie.  They are the parents of Ryan, my nephew who recently visited. The prompt words today are quaint, personal, taciturn and solo, and here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/24/rdp-monday-quaint/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/24/fowc-with-fandango-personal/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/24/taciturn/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/solo

Good Taste

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Good Taste

It was an ongoing debate
that never tended to abate.
One friend was too prone to oration
concerning the education
of her friend much given to
items that were too frou-frou:
clothing full of frills and ruching,
fluffy pillows good for smooshing,
carved furniture too ornate.
She feared bad taste would be her fate
forever unless she stepped in 
to counteract what might have been. 

She tried to teach her friend restraint
in ornaments and clothes and paint.
She tended to excoriate
items that were too ornate, 
curbing her psychedelic bent
while showing her what Bauhaus meant.
She declared ruffled skirts too silly,
weeding out what was too frilly.
And though her friend declared it wasteful, 
she threw out all that was not tasteful.
Ignoring her friend’s deep depression
as she culled out each possession.

She honed her house goods, cleared her shelves,
deprived her yard of frogs and elves.
Gave her flamingos to Good Will,
banned nicknacks on her window sill.
So finally, when she was through
relieving her of garish hue,
replacing all her things with new,
the friend knew what she had to do.
Her belongings spare, her wardrobe small,
her house was sparse, from wall-to-wall.
The most that she could say of it
was it was tasteful, but lacking wit.

‘Til when the culling was all ended,
the one thing left that still offended
was the friend who had advised her.
By the end, how she despised her.
So, with her training in good taste,
she acted now in confidant haste.
She first picked up, quickly upending
one last thing that needed tending—
dragged it clear across the floor
and tossed it out of her front door.
And that is how it came to pass
she pitched her friend out on her ass!

For more examples of extreme bad taste, go to A Visit to the Weird.

For Daily Addictions: Ornate.

Reality Check

9 Replies

 

Reality Check

I’m  withdrawing from the argument. I have no more opinions.
I abstain from giving voice to what I think to my few minions.
Thoughts fly swift and easy lately on the internet.
They are so filled with hate. How much more rancorous could they get?
Our fearful hateful leader might hem and haw and hem,
but the problem with such enemies is, they turn us into them!

My grass is fresh and verdant. Fresh flowers bloom every day.
I’ll watch them from my hammock and put politics away.
From the troubles of the world, I need a short vacation.
My back yard is so lovely, and nature an education
to stop and rest and notice all the pleasures of this life.
We need to take in all of it, not just the pain and strife.

I contemplate the garden, suspended in my nest.
Morrie jumps up to join me—an uninvited guest.
Suspended in my private world, I find no rancor there.
Just mariposas fluttering, suspended in the air
above the tabachine blossoms—a sort of meditation
better for my blood pressure than any medication.

I fall asleep and doze for hours. Awakening from my nap,
I try to rise and gently spill the small dog from my lap.
It’s feeding time for animals. I go to find the cats.
They swarm around my ankles, both for sustenance and pats.
It’s when I find the hummingbird they’ve left me like a treasure
that I’m reminded that all nature is a blend of pain and pleasure.

 

The prompt words today were abstain, verdant and swift. Here are the links:

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/15/fowc-with-fandango-abstain/
https://wo/rdofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/15/verdant/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/09/daily-addictions-2018-week-36/swift

New Bachelor in the Neighborhood

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New Bachelor in the Neighborhood

Eccentric little ladies bring him grubby little pies
and their dead husbands’ left-overs: their suit coats and their ties.
Their hopes that he will fill them is literally factual.
Their need for a fresh husband is absolutely actual.
As they woo him with their chicken soup, they tease with fading eyes,
flaunting assorted figures of every shape and size.
In caftans or in aprons, in capris that are disarming,
they troop up his front sidewalk in numbers most alarming.
When one attempts to pass by with footsteps that are swift,
another elbows her aside, starting an ugly rift.
They’ve been neighbors for a lifetime and best friends for most of it,
but this new man in the neighborhood seems to make toast of it.
He cowers behind his pulled-tight drapes, not wanting to look out.
He cannot face another pie, let alone another bout.
He grasps the want ads in his fist, retreating to his study.
He’ll find another rental or move in with a buddy.
He tries to move without a sound. He’s bolted tight the door.
He hears their voices on his porch—each minute there are more.
Somebody should have warned him—kindly clued him in
about what happens to widows too long deprived of men!

The word prompts today are grubby, tease, eccentric and swift. Here are the links:

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/14/friday-rdp-grubby/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/14/fowc-with-fandango-tease/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/14/eccentric/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/09/daily-addictions-2018-week-36/swift

Stemming the Rage

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Street Mural on wood viewed in Guanajuato

 

Stemming the Rage

To seed grace and stability in these tempestuous times,
try not to retaliate in your tweets and rhymes.
Simply state the truth as you continue to perceive it.
If you do not stir angst you’re less likely to receive it.
Choose not to participate when small minds rant and bray.
Just find a saner audience you’re likelier to sway.
This isn’t always easy. Ghandi led the way,
and he moved the British at the end of day.

Whether Trump or Kim Jong-un, Hitler or Pol Pot 
could be swayed by passive resistance? Perhaps, or perhaps not.
But surely there are other souls—even ones of note
who might be nudged to change their minds and even change their vote.
If you can curb your anger and respond with facts and sanity,
perhaps you’ll find a route to chip away at their inanity.
Please take with a grain of salt this lesson that I preach.
Actually, I must admit, it’s me I’m trying to teach.

 

Word prompts for today were: grace, stability, tempestuous and retaliate. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/10/rdp-monday-grace/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/10/fowc-with-fandango-stability/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/10/tempestuous/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/09/daily-addictions-2018-week-36/retaliate

A New World’s Morning

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Click on any photo to enlarge all and view as slide series.

 

Ubiquitous networks of  highways crisscross the face of Mother Earth–lines that age her fresh face. Pockmarks of potholes question their durability, whereas Earth lives on, in one form or another.

Dams crack and spill their water freshly across lake beds parched for centuries.
Bones of dinosaurs peek out from eroded banks of clay. Plants spread from potholes in gouged pavement. Somewhere in the arctic ice, the past lies thawing, ready to be reborn.

Who knows but that the
nightfall of mankind may be
a new world’s morning?

 

I don’t know what I did this week.  I seem to have collected prompts from a different week for each prompt site.  Perhaps I’ve been at it too long and should retire. The prompt words  I somehow collected were highway, durable, ubiquitous and morning. The form is for dVerse Poets haibun challenge.

Darn! I now find even the comments and Mr. Linky for dVerse are closed, even though they say they are open all week.  I guess this just isn’t my day, or I am as cracked as the pavement above…..Here are the “wrong” links I used:

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/01/fowc-with-fandango-highway/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/08/26/daily-addictions-2018-week-34/durable
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/01/ubiquitous/
https://dversepoets.com/2018/09/03/haibun-monday-good-morning/