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Accidental Excuses

Accidental Excuses

Pointing at the calendar, you voice a guttural moan,
regretting a notation for which you must atone.
It’s time to trim the ivy from the window frames and gutters,
but your reluctance to do so, I can tell from your low mutters.

When our decorous window boxes needed a small touch-up,
you erased the reminder and smugly held your crutch up.
Of course I did the job for you, for it would be abuse
not to take a broken leg as adequate excuse.

But now that you have healed, my dear, it clearly is your turn
to cut back the ivy and to trim the Boston fern.
In spite of your pleading eyes and all your manly charm,
you’ll only avoid this chore if you fall and break an arm!

Prompt words today are guttural, calendar, ivy, decorous and point.
Image by Debb D on Unsplash.

Puddle-Jumping


Puddle-Jumping

Raindrops fall and splat and skitter,
bringing sheen and gloss and glitter.
In my dreams I hear them falling,
try to wake to heed their calling.
When exactly do I know
it’s time to leave my bed and go
outside to splash in rain-filled gutters,
ignoring Grandpa’s warning mutters
that I’ll catch a cold today
if I go outside to play?

He says it’s raining cats and dogs,
but all I find outside are frogs,
proving his idiom a lie
as nothing’s falling from the sky
but rain and blossoms from the tree
that stretches its limbs over me.
I make my way, laborious,
through mud and goo most glorious,
then reach the ditch and wash feet off
in the rushing water trough.

I see Grandpa watching me,
warm and dry and splatter-free.
But then he’s gone, no doubt to see
what’s playing now on the TV.
But, just as it begins to pour,
there’s Grandpa coming out the door!
Barefooted, he jumps in my puddle,
gives my shoulders a warm cuddle,
then repeats the old refrain
that this day is “Right as rain!”


Prompt words today are rain, idiom, skitter, exact, dreams.
Images by Amy Reed and Nicholas Bartos on Unsplash. Used with permission.

Cracked

Cracked

My thoughts are arabesques that curl—now looser and now tight.
They coalesce, then part again to let in needed light.
When ponderings go underground, they tend to matte and cloy,
but when they leave some room within, they seem to invite joy.
So in between colloquial thoughts, I wedge out open spaces
where I can  I leave some fractures, inviting fresh new traces
of innovative modes of thought and bright new points of view
so bit by bit, over the years my attitudes accrue.

Prompt words for the day are coalesce, colloquial, fractures, cloy and underground.

The Meeting Place (for Dverse Poets)

The Meeting Place

What are you waiting for––
divine inspiration?
Do you think Shakespeare waited for his muse?
And if your muse came,
would you even recognize her?
Will she wear long white flowing robes?
Will she play a lute or will your voice
be her instrument?
Will she whisper in your ear or speak to you
though your mind?
And will she be beautiful or will that even matter?
As you age will your muse age with you
or is she perpetually young?
And what about wisdom?
Will it be your own acquired wisdom or hers
that will make your words cut like a knife
though the soft texture of days,
that will give them purpose
when those around you
fail and fall
into the magnetic cloud
of forgetfulness or boredom?
What if as you sit there
waiting for your muse,
watching reality TV
or doing crossword puzzles,
your muse is waiting for you
in the keys of your computer
or in your pen point?
What if she has been lolling all these years
in the pages
of that lined notebook
sitting empty on your shelf?
I keep telling you
that every day I see her
pass behind you
as you pine for her,
always looking
in the opposite
direction.

 

For dVerse Poets–a poem about a muse.

Workaholic

Workaholic

Be it cleaning out the closets or the pantry or garage,
I do not mind the grunt work nor the labor or barrage
of details that may add to the hours of my work.
I do not seek avoidance and make no attempts to shirk.

When I’m on a roll and in the spell of my creation,
the only way to curb me is probably sedation.
for when I’m in the throes of work is when I’m most sublime.
I’m an expatriate from worry. I come unfixed in time.

I do not ask for recess and I only take a break
for water or the potty. These are all the rests I take.
I make no excuses to quit and come back later,
because for me these marathons are a mood-elevator.

I don’t regard the task-at-hand as drudgery or working,
so I make no attempts at avoidance or at shirking. 
Be it working in the studio, arranging, cutting, gluing,
or cleaning out friends’ clutter, I’m happiest when doing!

 

Prompts today are break, sedate, expatriate, regard and elevator.
Image by Neonbrand on Unsplash. Used with permission.

 

Midnight Mischief with Bromeliads and Cats: FOTD July 19, 2021

Midnight Mischief.

 

For Cee’s FOTD.

Swingers

Swingers

Romance is better on the swings
for it’s true Cupid has wings
and if he inspires a kiss,
it’s clear that you don’t want to miss
that moment on your mutual ride
where your lips might coincide,
and on the teeter-totter or slide
it’s harder to go side-by-side.

 

For the Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge: Side-by-Side
Image by Brandon Couch on Unsplash.