Tag Archives: FOWC

The Drying of Sheets in the Wind

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                                      photo by Jason Briscoe on Unsplash, used with permission

The Drying of Sheets in the Wind

When the world seems in a mess and you wax sanctimonious,
railing at the ills of those who make it less harmonious,
remember that life’s curses are only temporary.
When world events eat at your mind and the world feels scary,
remember bed sheets on the line, drying in the sun—
the sound of flapping in the wind as their drying was done.
The smell of bright clean sunlight on each wind-softened fold,
or the cracking of their ice crystals stiffening in the cold.

Remember their warmth around you, fresh from mother’s mangle?
Snapping them out in the air, her bracelets’s harmonious jangle?
Her even movements folding them, then spreading them once more
 for you to slip into your bed as she stood at the door,
storybook in hand for that nightly big procession
through story after story, read in that grand progression
of venturings into a world that seemed so vast and magic,
long before you knew the world to also be so tragic.

Let memories of your mother still be a comfort to you—
with memories of fresh white sheets. And let them both renew you.

 

Prompt words are sheets, temporary, curse , sanctimonious. Wow. What a list. How are these going to come together?

Lover’s Spat

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Lover’s Spat.

When I said I didn’t miss you, I admit that I lied.
I didn’t get enough of you. I left unsatisfied.
If you, too, detect a movement in your stone cold heart,
perhaps you could begin with a phone call as a start.

I didn’t mean to say it. You didn’t mean to scream.
I’m willing to atone for it by any means you deem.
Breaking up is hard to do but staying mad is harder.
I spend way too much time in bed, too much time in my larder.

I’m gaining weight and losing hair, burst into tears repeatedly.
I fly off the handle and insult my friends most heatedly.
So I propose our meeting via taxi, boat or plane.
Our last tryst was insufficient. It didn’t heal the pain.

If you’ll come out of hiding, then I will do the same.
If you’ll agree to meet with me, I’ll even take the blame.
You’ll be right and I’ll be wrong. I’ll take the higher road.
The digs that I once took at you will produce the motherlode.

Prompt words for today were taxi, movement, propose and hide.

Over-automation

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Over-automation

The multifarious uses of all of her devices
led to manifold laziness and other slothful vices.
She never had to scramble to remember anything.
She only pushed a button and her troubles all took wing.
She had no special training. She eschewed an education,
for Alexa solved all problems with her handy automation—
turning on the TV set and opening the doors,
setting off the cleaning robots, expelling the boors,
reminding of vacations and birthdays and appointments,
disciplining naughty kids for lapses in deportments.
Alexa went to work for her and mapped out all her spreadsheets,
polished all her silverware and ironed out her bedsheets.
There was literally nothing that Alexa couldn’t do.
She cooked her children’s breakfasts and took them to the zoo.
Yet still she was suffused by fatigue and wan and thin.
No one could imagine the stress that she was in.
More and more she wound up with her stomach in a knot.
remembering the uses for devices that she’d got!

Prompt words today are knot, scramble, vacation and multifarious.

The Tyranny of Order

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The Tyranny of Order

We must take charge of all our lives lest they take charge of us.
Too easy to be eaten up by schedules and fuss.
We tick off items on our lists forgetting to just see—
too often caught up raking leaves, not noticing the tree.

Life could be more melodious if we just stopped to listen.
Overlooked its rust a bit to take note of its glisten.
It takes no ingenuity to concentrate on things
that bring a savor to our life. The world around us sings!

Let your life spill over the proverbial apple cart.
The best things of your life cannot be confined to a chart.
Take time to note the details. Fragrances and sounds.
The morning sounds of hummingbirds as they make their rounds.

How the cat lies curled in sleep. How leaf bunches unfurl.
How dust on the window settles in a soft whirl.
How the clouds form continents we travel from afar.
How our life cuts through its sea, fleet and sure and yar.

The ticking of a clock reminds that time is short and sweet.
We do not have the time to make everything so neat.
As I realign these items to perfection on the shelf,
I am mainly giving this advice to myself.

Prompt words are ingenuity, chart, melodious and charge.

Full Makeup

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Full Makeup

As each wispy object she attaches to her face,
these extraneous objects seem somewhat out of place.
They flutter  from her eyelids like moths before the flame—
just the opening number in her makeup game.

As she smooths on her concealer, then powders over all,
she does not see me watching her out here in the hall.
Never does she hesitate. Brushes grow ever finer
as she patiently applies shadow and eye liner.

She does it all so expertly with such consistent flair,
then carefully begins to work to rearrange her hair.
A little mousse to set the curls, a little spray of mist
and she’s prepared a face that is ready to be kissed.

When she comes home, the hair is mussed, one eyelash is askew.
One eyelid seems to be of a slightly lighter hue.
Although her hairdo’s fallen, still her mood seems somewhat lighter.
Her lipstick gone, and yet somehow her color seems much brighter.

One little word transforms a girl to another realm.
Makes an unsure teenager the captain at the helm.
Just change “make up” to “make out” and her heart takes wing.
And woe to any parent who notices a thing!

Prompt words today were flair, hesitate, spray and extraneous.

 

Pilot Error

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Pilot Error

His vulgarity made her bashful,
his irreverence drew tears.
He had inadequate finesse
to soothe away her fears.
So though he wished to woo her,
in the end he failed.
When he tried to fly her to the moon,
his passenger just bailed.

Prompt words today are finesse, irreverent, vulgar and bashful.

Ephemera

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Screen Shot 2019-06-24 at 7.43.04 AM           photo by Tim Mossholder, courtesy of Unsplash, with permission.

Ephemera

In the ballpark of the universe, there is no referee.
Chaos theory is the rule book. As sure as we may be
that we have followed all the rules, there is no guarantee
that fame won’t be ephemeral even though we’ve won the game.
On the scoreboard of the universe is no eternal fame.
However much the hero, however bright the flame,
In the end, we’re similar—just another name
lost within the cosmos. Another exploding star
that once thought that history would record who we are.

 

Prompts today are ephemeral, referee and similar.

What We Must Do

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What We Must Do

I take an inventory of my heart.
There is nurture there,
and some peace,
but when I think about
the jealous nature of our world, 
a bit of it nestled, I must admit,
in me as well,
I worry about the heart of all of us,
for surely the hate and greed that jealousy seeds
is somehow fostered by us all,
no matter how much we protest it.

Where has putting up with this greed brought us?
Children are taken from their parents
and kept in cages in our country.

What can we do save protesting on Facebook?
Are we willing to face the guns
of those whose salaries we pay
to risk saving the children ourselves?
Weak children of our century,
we have to brandish our voting pens like swords.
They are our weapons.
Our agents for nourishing our souls.

The prompts for today are peace, inventory, nurture and jealous.

Sinning

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Sinning

Out here at my grandpa’s farm, there isn’t any sinning.
We’re as innocent as Eve way back at the beginning
before original sin was born, decreed by the Almighty
and Eve was forced to don a fig leaf in lieu of a nightie.
As we kneel to milk the cows, we also kneel in prayer,
peeling all our sins away, layer after layer.
But I prefer to say Eve’s sin was merely hers alone.
I should get to do the sin for which I must atone!

 

Prompt words today are farm, kneel, almighty and original.

Sisterly Spats

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Sisters

Squabbles between siblings seem to be a common thread
in every family I know, no matter how well bred.
Pillow fights might escalate into something more—
slapping and hair-pulling and rolling on the floor.

Age nourishes the problem with petty jealousy.
Nothing like a boy to end a sister’s loyalty!
Squabbles over borrowed clothes—a stain or a ripped hem,
hormones, insecurities and problems strictly femme.

Cruel labels given: “sloppy, slutty, fat,”
exacerbate the problem by giving tit for tat.
All the sisters of our friends seem to be so swell.
Why is it that we had to draw the sister straight from Hell?

At what point does the shift occur? When do the battles end?
What turns a sparring sister into a girl’s best friend?
Nieces and nephews help by turning sisters into aunties.
Bonding over choosing pretty dresses, frilly panties.

What is it in a baby that tends to heal old wrongs?
Memories of past adventures? Those re-remembered songs?
Old squabbles once forgotten make way for fonder thought—
giving thanks at last for the sisters that we’ve got.

Prompts for today are sibling, label, nourish and exacerbate.