Category Archives: Poetry

Morning Protein

8 Replies

img_7374

Morning Protein

Each morning when I waken, I take a little pill;
but though it is to boost my health, today it made me ill.
Before I went to slumber, I poured a glass of Coke
so it would be there in the night if I began to choke.
I know it isn’t usual, but it works for me.
Somehow it works to clear my throat and leaves the passage free.

So when I took my pill this morning, feeling sort of hazy,
I didn’t go for water, but instead I was just lazy.
I lifted up the Coke cup, filled almost to the brim,
and only had a little sip before up to the rim
something solid floated that shouldn’t have been there.
I felt something that tickled––like very coarse stiff hair.

Later, I was glad I hadn’t taken bigger sips,
for as it was, just part of it made it past my lips.
I hurried to the bathroom and spit and spit and spit,
then emptied out the cup and didn’t look at it
as a big dead cockroach went swirling down the drain.
Will I drink without looking? No. Never again.

The prompt this morning was “Clumsy.”

Promises

13 Replies

img_3122

Promises

When we first made our promises, our hearts were young and gay,
and all the things we had in life we thought we would parlay
from good fortune freely given for which we’d never pay.

But though the sun that lulls us with its warming ray
does not always scorch the earth, certainly, it may,
and all the tender shoots of spring by autumn turn to hay.

And so it is with promises, no matter what you say.
What I’ve noticed about promises is that they melt away,
for those who live by promising sometimes have feet of clay.

Promises lightly given sometimes start to weigh
upon the minds of those who have held their fears at bay.
Such things may cause the truest heart later to turn fey.

The lives we take for granted, sure we’ll always be okay,
in the end life complicates by answering with “Nay.”
So what you want to share with me, please share by end of day.

The prompt word today was “Promises.”

Flat

9 Replies

img_6880

Flat

Like a phony love letter not influenced by Cupid,
flattery will get you somewhere only with the stupid.

For if praise is unwarranted, it leaves us feeling flat.
When so falsely offered, it falls down with a splat.

While flattery may be offered by those without a clue,
praise and adulation are not flattery if they’re true.

Praise is a beloved pet, but flattery’s a zoo.
While you’re  curious to view it, you don’t take it home with you.

 

The prompt word today is “Flattery.”

Reflecting Pool: (Sanctuary)

1 Reply

DSC00342

Reflecting Pool

Sacred refuge and snug haven.
A safe shelter from the swarm.
Not a temple or an altar.
Comfortable, snug and warm.
Temple to deep relaxation,
Underpinning of my dreams.
A down comforter to soothe my
Rattled nerves and ripping seams.
You may guess that I’m a loner, but

You would be just halfway right.
Refuges would have no meaning without
A journey to feel life’s bite.
Under covers is a safe world,
Total living through the mind,
Cushioning the greater pleasures
Nurtured when our pathways wind
Around problems to be conquered in the outer world we roam,
Safely leading us in a circle back to the refuge that we call home.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sanctuary/

True or False?

9 Replies

True or False?

If every question had an answer clear as yes or no,
and we could more easily know the status quo,
life would not be so puzzling. The answers would be clear
about how we should run our lives. There would be less to fear.

In matters of importance, like college choice or major,
there would be less pondering and mistakes made, I’ll wager.
Our choice of whom to marry and everything we do
could be laid out on paper, put clearly in our view.

No more “to be or not to be.” No more mental maybes
when it comes to our decisions over houses, pets or babies.
Life would be just a check list labeled ” false or true”
with no equivocating over what to do.

The infinite variety of choices we now face
that have us always questioning at a faster pace
would be a simple matter—clear cut with no debate—
an indisputable right or wrong about whom we should date.

The lines would grow much longer for every “true” or “yes”
with all the “nos” and “falses”  left lonely, I would guess.
With all things predetermined and all things black and white,
there would be just two choices over what was wrong or right.

No more essay questions. Each decision plain and clear.
At every choice we’d know exactly which way we should steer.
No doubt life would be simpler and easier in its scoring,
but I am also pretty sure that it would be more boring!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/false/

Eminent Domains

12 Replies

daily life color163 (1)

Eminent* Domains

As a new wife I chose mountains, made a home of them and that’s
where we were surrounded by potted plants and cats.
Perched amid the redwoods, my art studio in their shade,
I looked out across the mountains as I made and made and made.

I was happy in the mountains, but the incline and the trees
made living somewhat harder as I began to wheeze.
The pollen took my breath away and walking was a labor––
the trees impeding access to and vision of each neighbor.

daily life color165

So I moved to the desert, with openness my quarry.
I loved its subtle beauties and the sparseness of its glory.
All the arms of cacti reaching to the sky,
the faded pastel sunsets as starry nights drew nigh.

But, although good for walking at a faster pace,
the desert, lacking moisture, dried my hands and face.
It dusted all my furniture and opened cracks in wood,
carved other furrows in my face, where they remain for good.

IMG_1910

The ocean spreads before me, a different watery land––
all her morning treasures displayed across the sand.
I examine coral and the fragile bones of fish,
surveying and collecting everything I wish

But the ocean is bipolar—sometimes she’s a bitch.
Perspiration trickles, causing me to itch.
I love the beach in wintertime and love it in the fall,
but beachside in the summer is no fun at all.

daily life color164

I have lived in mountains, the desert and the sea
and all these special places still have a place in me.
But if you ever ask me which place I’d like to be,
I fear I’d have to answer that I think I need all three.

The mountains in the summer loom up and beckon me.
The desert in the winter, balanced by the sea.
It seems there is no place on earth where I will just remain.
I claim mountains, sea and desert as my regions of domain.

*Note:  Although “eminent domain” is a familiar phrase, I am speaking of eminent in its other connotation, namely:
  1. used to emphasize the presence of a positive quality.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mountain/

Old Flame (A Maiden Aunt’s Testimony of Survival)

1 Reply

IMG_6319

Old Flame

“I stood and craned my neck to C
if I could make out the ID
of the one my parents chose for me.

He’d courted them from A to Z
and then proposed on bended knee,
but even though I knew that he

suited my father to a T,
I said that it was not to B.
He did not set my spirit free

nor make me want to be a “we,”
so I’m afraid that his suttee
was never fueled by such as me.”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/survival/

Clarity: Words After an Armistice

19 Replies

IMG_1905

Words After an Armistice

I want to make this perfectly clear.
We are not close just because we are near.
There has to be more than proximity for
my heart to open its almost closed door.

Say something sweet to me. Say something rare.
I do not feel loved just because you are there
across a room that is filled up with things.
You must think of something and give your thoughts wings.

Speak playful words that will prompt words from me.
Then volley them back to me. Don’t let thoughts “be”
without giving them air to live in and grow
so they banish these shadows and fan fire’s glow.

Passion’s not something for us to remember.
It’s better a constantly glowing live ember.
Get up from your chair. Give that remote a miss
and speak to me now with a word or a kiss.

Remove my hands from the keyboard and say,
“Let’s give the internet rest for a day.”
Take me to water and take me to sand.
Take off my shoes and take hold of my hand.

Walk me to tide swell and gull cry and light.
Say you’ve forgotten our last brittle fight.
Banish bad thoughts in the now and the here
so I can feel close just because you are near.

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/06/20/fowc-with-fandango-almost/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/clarity/

“The World Swings Towards its Opposite”

9 Replies

“The World Swings Towards its Opposite”

Often we’re made by what we lack.
White stands out better against black.
A child’s hand against your hand
often helps you understand
how prepared the human zoo
is to go on without you.

The world keeps balancing its act,
although we often rue the fact.
A child is born? Another must
make room by turning back to dust.
And every time we try to change this,
nature steps in to rearrange us.

Pestilence, earthquake and flood
offset new birth by spilling blood.
Ebola, aids, dengue, the flu
are, alas, only a few
of nature’s horrors that balance joys.
Cold and hot and girls and boys,

feast and famine, rain and shine,
mountain, valley, fresh water, brine––
contrast is what defines our world.
Every “knit one” must be pearled.
The truth in this election year
is one that I have come to fear,

for just as prejudice seemed cured,
our world has turned back to absurd.
Obamacare may be replaced
with a plan that’s more debased.
Hatred and misogyny
may be the next thing that will be

inflicted upon our brave world
that reels under each new ill hurled
before cycling back to light,
healing from each horrid blight.
Who seeks to “Trump” our earthly hand,
is one hand closer to being canned!


“. . . when anything reaches its maximum potential, it turns toward its opposite.”
–(translation of a principle stated in the i ching.)

If you want tohttps://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/contrast/

Accident

17 Replies

The Prompt: Tell us about a time you should have stopped and helped someone but didn’t.

DSC07911Accident

When I rise at seven to let her out,
she’s in a hurry, without a doubt,
for I see only a streaking blur––
a tip of tail and whirr of fur.
As she rushes out to pee,
the shame is not on her, but me.
I heard her bark an hour ago,
but it was only seven and so
I thought I’d just go back to sleep
and she made no further peep.

Now I see the pile upon the floor
just inside the open door
held as long as she was able,
then hidden underneath the table.
Not the first time in twelve years
that she’s caught me in arrears
in opening doors to let her out,
yet it is true without a doubt
that she has never erred before
and made a mess upon the floor.

I know that she is feeling shame,
even though she’s not to blame.
For once she is not under feet
as I prepare something to eat;
and when I call, she does not come.
She’s in the garden, feeling glum.
She feels she’s done a shameful act
devoid of training, breeding, tact.
She does not know that I’m the one
standing here with smoking gun.

Every bit of blame is mine,
for Frida’s former record is fine.
For twelve long years, she never peed
upon the roof in time of need
even when we didn’t know
she was locked up there and so
there is no need to hang her head
in shame of what she’s done, and dread
of being scolded or being blamed.
I am the one who should be shamed!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sorry-im-busy/