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!
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.
Abandoned
Droplets on the window screen are caught, each in its trap—
a wire cage suspending them inches from my lap.
Your silkscreen propped against the wall, only half completed.
My heart, once full, now emptying, each moment more depleted.
You’ve vanished with your waxes. Our nuptial pledge seems over.
Your true nature reassumed, once more you are a rover.
This half-empty silkscreen your only good-bye letter,
my father’s warnings fill my mind. I should have known you better.
Prompts today are droplet, silkscreen, deal and betray.
First
After the dance, we walked the streets all the long night through,
moving to a doorstep to avoid the cleaning crew.
You let me rabbit on about every silly thing,
then made your wordless statement as the morning birds took wing.
Lifting through the rising sun, they faded into mist,
unaffected by the fact that I had just been kissed.
Then you restored my fallen hat, my scattered keys and purse,
that morning without equal in my young universe.
Recluse
Like a rabbit in its burrow, you hide yourself away.
Do you frolic in the nighttime and obscure yourself all day?
How can you be so opposite of all the world’s routine?
What is it you are doing that you are so rarely seen?
I’d buy you an alarm clock if you think that it would aid
your efforts to return yourself to the daily parade.
My offer is not insincere. I’ll do what I must do
to try to spend some daylight hours with the likes of you!
Ballroom Intervention:
Trod Upon Blues
This gratuitous violence that you insist is dancing
insures that there will definitely be no further prancing.
I don’t intend to be the victim of your future trodding.
My toes can’t take another night of your infernal plodding.
If you must sashay, my dear, I think it would be fine
if you took a few lessons to insure that you will shine
when next you ask a girl to dance, lest your skills depreciate
to a level where the least of us will not appreciate
your extended hand out to ask us for a dance.
I’m afraid not one of us is willing now to chance
damage to her Manolos, let alone her toes.
We’ll simply have to get along with more accomplished beaus.
So with most loving intentions, we’ve all chipped in to buy
a coupon for dance lessons for our favorite clumsy guy.
We hope that you will take it in the way that it’s intended,
and that you won’t be angry, downhearted or offended.
Please accept these lessons, dear. After just a few
instead of asking us to dance, we’ll be asking you!
Prompt words today are night, sashay, gratuitous and shine.
| sinónimos: | unjustified, without reason, uncalled for, unwarranted, unprovoked, undue; Más
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Sale Day at the Knock-off Designer Purse Store
Shoppers are in a quandary. They’ll put up with no delay.
We advertised new bargains available today.
They’re seeking phony purses from Dior and Michael Kors.
Noses against the windows, they’re beating at the doors.
But they’ve delayed our shipments and we don’t know what to do.
The faces of the ladies first in line are turning blue.
The advertising blitz we did turned out to be foolhardy.
Our Chanels are stuck in customs, our Hermès bags are tardy.
We have the fire hoses ready. We’ll use them if we must.
The ladies’ love of Fendi has turned into a lust.
If purses were religion they would be the most confessory.
There is no other obsession like the one for an accessory!
This real Hermès just sold for two million dollars at auction!!! Has the world gone crazy? It is the second most expensive handbag in the world.
Want to see the most expensive handbag in the world? Go HERE.
Mother Hen
His insidious preening as he eyes each teenage guest
makes me want to gather them in a protective nest,
to spread my wings to cover them and tell them to take care.
To go home and do homework and fiddle with their hair.
I want them safe away from this producer’s leering glance.
Away from all they’ll forfeit to try to get their chance.
For all the favors he hands out, with his other hand he reaps,
consuming all the sweet young things as though they were just Peeps!
One-sided
I’m tempted by your zaniness and your eclectic charm,
but I’m not reflected in your eyes, although I have your arm.
And though you yield umbrella to shield me from the drizzle,
when I look into your eyes, I don’t detect a sizzle.
So though I hang on all your words—mind everything you quote—
and though I laugh and coo and preen and blink my eyes and dote,
I know it is just habit, your attentive chivalry.
I know that I am into you, but you aren’t into me!
Former
We follow different orbits. We dislike each other’s friends.
When we are together, the confusion never ends.
Though I respect your choices, I fear they’re never mine.
I’ve strolled a crooked pathway. You’re rarely out of line.
You have a place within my heart but we rarely phone.
We each chose a direction and wandered off alone
collecting lives around us where the other does not fit.
We’ve analyzed our friendship and found the end of it.
Have we made the right decision, or should friendship never end?
Is it wrong to leave old friends behind as we round the bend?
It’s hard to keep momentum when pulling a long train,
and holding onto everyone we’ve once loved is inane.
When you’ve somehow lost the trust that you thought would last forever,
and when you’re simply bored by one you once found fun and clever,
sometimes we have to face the fact we’ve loved someone in vain
and all the joys we shared are ones we will not share again.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 