Flood


Flood

The swiftly rushing current betokens something tragic—
a cavity within my heart where before there was magic.
Your piano floats on by, sounding its last chord—
that last note of “Fur Elise” before the waters roared.

Vestiges of dinner float by on their raft
of our dining table, candelabra fore and aft,
sinking to the current. Now the dishes follow after.
The whole house now floats away–floor and walls and rafter.

All flooding away from me, left here to remember
a roaring fire dampened down to one last dying ember.
The first to go, you pulled our world after you as well.—
our music  now extinguished by your funeral knell.

 

Prompts for today are current, piano, dinner, betoken and cavity.

Lest you worry–Dolly, Sam, Cee and others who always ask–this poem is an amalgam of many past memories: the death of a loved one, the two big floods here, a recent phone call with a friend who has just lost her husband. The memories are all scrambled. Fiction based on past facts and mixed together into a poem.

Unraveled


Unraveled

The pain of love unraveling? No one knows it better,
for she wears her heart upon her sleeve, knit into her sweater.
Each day her heart unravels and lies tangled down her arm.
They say it cannot harm her. Loosened hearts cannot do harm.
But she’s a prisoner of these tendrils of love that’s come undone—
the truth of it revealed to her each day by a new sun,
while each night in her dreams, sleep knits it up again
and the ardor of her lost love once more draws her in.
She forgets the present and relives what she once had—
what she imagines in her slumber cancelling out the bad.
This unknitting and reknitting can’t be what life is for.
She must search for her dream’s exit. She must try to find the door.
Cast her old garment on the flames. Burn up that raveled sleeve.
Real love stays firmly knitted. A true love doesn’t leave.

For dVerse Poets: Pain  Image by nik on Unsplash.

Wildflowers: FOTD, Oct 14, 2021

The mountainside above my house is covered with these flowers right now.

For Cee’s FOTD

Darjeeling, Lockjaw and Delayed Gratification


Darjeeling, Lockjaw and Delayed Gratification

I’d make conversation but my upper plate
seems to be grinding my lower of late.
I fear there’s a fissure that’s preventing their matching
and somehow my back teeth just seem to be catching
and locking which creates a problem in chewing,
so eating’s another thing I won’t be doing.

I’m bungling everything done by my jaws.
At talking and eating I’m taking a pause.
For now I’ll just listen and watch you eat pie.
If you give me a straw, I’ll simply get by
by sipping my tea and nodding my head
in avid agreement with everything said.

I could have stayed home and stared at the wall,
but I couldn’t face not seeing y’all,
so I will just sit here and soak in the news,
forsaking my own chance to thrill and amuse.
Until I’ve seen my dentist, you’ll just have to wait
for the juicy story I was going to relate!

Prompts today are conversation, fissure, matching, bungle and upper.

Pedilanthus bracteatus: FOTD Oct 13, 2021

PedClick on photos to enlarge.

For Cee’s FOTD

 

A Message From Judy: No Internet, No Electricity

Good evening to Judy’s blog readers & friends, this is ForgottenMan. Judy just called me. She’s been without internet and electricity at her house most of the day, and she asked me to post this for her to let y’all know she’s not ignoring anyone! She’ll update us when the electrons start flowing again.

Update 10/13/2021 5 am CDT: Judy’s internet & electric returned, at least for awhile.

Bougainvillea: FOTD Oct 12, 2021

 

For Cee’s FOTD

Great Author Above

Clouds above

Great Author Above

I’m tired of emotion. I’m up to my ears
in hysteria, sadness and terror and tears.
Bloodcurdling screams have become commonplace
along with sirens and gunshots and mace.

Our souls have been dirtied by leaders who lie
as they help themselves to their pieces of pie.
If there is a God, then this is the time
for him to step in and infuse some sublime

grace in a world that has gone much astray.
Yet we pay and we pay and we pay and we pay
with innocent blood while the rich all get fatter,
as though this whole world’s ruled by the Mad Hatter.

If this is true and we’re living a fable, 
great Author Above, if you’re willing and able,
write a new ending, preferably happy,
and hear my plea to please make it snappy!!!

 

Prompts today are emotion, dirty, bloodcurdling and tears.

Well-Spoken


Well-Spoken

Grandmother was a lexophile, erudite and bossy.
She said that I was malapert when she meant I was saucy.
She sat astride her horse for she was loath to simply straddle it,
and she “installed her pillion.” She didn’t merely saddle it!

Every sentence that we spoke required mediation.
Nothing was radioactive. It “emitted radiation!”
Cannibals weren’t maneaters, but rather “anthropophages,”
and prom dates brought us sprays of roses, not merely corsages!

Her mania for polite words was nothing less than ludicrous.
When dealing with the birds and bees, “womb” subbed for the word uterus.
Gentlemen had “members,” for their penises were banished—
“boobs” and “knockers” terms for bosoms that somehow had vanished.

It seems she put small value in words that spoke directly,
for it was more important that we chose words correctly.
Dictionaries were her Bibles, and they had the final word
when we used terminology that Grandma found absurd.

 

Prompt words for the day are straddle, radioactive, ludicrous, contumely and maneater.

Hearts of Stone

 

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge: Heart of Stone