Tag Archives: your daily word

Morning Ritual

Morning Ritual

Boy cat awakes at six o’clock
to begin his morning walk
across my former sleeping self,
then jumps down from my bedside shelf

to continue his aggressive sass.
Wrestles the rug, then bats the brass
light cord, yowls and kneads the sheet
until I rise. Admit defeat.


He leads me to the kitchen door.
I let him out , but do no more.
I don’t renew his empty dish.
No new beef and no new fish
adorn its naked metal sheen.
It’s six o’clock! I’m feeling mean.

Back to bed until at eight
the dogs begin their loud debate.
The girl cat’s where the boy cat’s been,
taunting them from here within.

She jumps up on the headboard table,
disconnects my laptop cable,


turns off its screen and then what’s more,
knocks the lampshade to the floor.

Jumps down and then attacks the rug—
A slide-attack, a pull, a tug—
until once more it’s hillocked, rumpled.
twisted, skewed, distressed and crumpled.

Now the dogs both go ballistic
and I, alas, become realistic.

Thrust myself up from my bed,
and after both the dogs are fed,
I give in to the cats’ loud din—
one cat out and one cat in.

One says good-bye, one says hello. One seeks to come, the other go!

When I shop, I buy the flavor I know their highnesses most favor.

Walk barefoot over the cold floor,
open up the outside door,
and, stepping out to feed the cats,
I open up the cupboard that’s
located by the kitchen door,
to grab the cat food can, but then
as one cat exits, one rushes in!

I spoon the goop into one dish
to tail-swaying and whisker swish.
Pour kibble in another one,
step back inside and watch the fun.

Seeking nutritional renewal, they fall upon their kitty gruel

Sharing a dish, cats bob and sway
in graceful pas de deux display.
Alternating, dish-to-dish
from wet to dry, whate’er their wish.

And finally, the herd all fed,
exhausted, I go back to bed!

Prompt words for today are goodbye/hello, brass, renewal and favor.

Stating the Obvious

Stating the Obvious

Though we make new resolutions for this fresh year that’s been born,
let no laurel wreaths be woven, our foreheads to adorn.
Renewing hope won’t work unless we also prove our worth
by stemming global warming by cleaning up our earth.
By curbing population growth and making room for all
of nature’s other species on this great blue ball.
If we have learned nothing from past foibles, then I fear
there’ll be no improvement over our last dreadful year.

Prompt words for this first day of the new year (Yay!) are fresh, adorn, resolution and renew. Image by Markus Spiske on Unsplash. Used with permission

The Legend of Aunt Annie


The Legend of Aunt Annie

Every family has one—she’s above the daily fray.
She’s excessive in her grooming—perfect in every way.
Her complexion is unblemished. She is seamless, smooth and pale.
She dare not lift a finger, lest she break a fingernail.
But her understated elegance had galvanized our wishes
that for one time in our lives, we’d see her do the dishes—
put on a kitchen apron over her silken ruffles
and rid sticky hors d’ oeuvre plates of anchovy paste and truffles.

It was our New Year’s resolution to see sweat upon her brow,
so at our family gathering, we made it our vow
to extract some elbow grease from languid Auntie Annie
by urging her to heft herself up off her dainty fanny
to assist us in the cleaning up, for though we all just loved her,
we would not be satisfied until we’d rubber gloved her!

Before the clock struck midnight on this New Year’s Eve,
we’d create a family legend no one absent would believe.
We’d get her drunk on cordial and execute our plot.
We installed her on the sofa and brought her her first shot.
Then we began our web of lies as we spun out the story
of a family legend as old as it was gory
of a New Year’s curse found on parchment cracked and old
stuck in the family Bible, caked with a crust of mold.

It told of an ancient act too lurid to retell—
so vile its perpetrator was consigned to Hell
and forever afterwards, this family had been cursed.
(By what I just had to ad lib, for we had not rehearsed
the details of the story, so off-the-cuff I said
that gone unatoned by midnight, one of us would be dead.)
The family roiled and tutted and feigned a great duress.
Meanwhile, dear Aunt Annie smoothed the wrinkles from her dress
and held her small glass out for another wee small taste,
lest the remaining cordial should simply go to waste.

The rest of us continued with our impromptu telling
of the misdeed and the cursing and the dying and the Helling.
“If every one of us does not atone by midnight,” I then said,
“by the final toll of midnight, our eldest will be dead!!!
Someone jabbed Aunt Annie with an elbow to point out
that she, indeed, was eldest, without a single doubt.
“Quick, Auntie, to the kitchen. You must wash your hands of blame!”
shouted all of us, complicit in this New Year’s game.
“And while you are at it, perhaps you could wash some dishes,”
said the youngest one of us, expressing all our wishes.

Whereupon our auntie heaved herself up to her feet,
strolled into the kitchen, and without missing a beat,
put her plate under the faucet, swabbed it with a sponge,
and the oil of fish and mushroom managed to expunge.
Then she dried her hands and turned around, the best to face us all.
drew her lips into a line, her fists into a ball,
and told us that for years now she’d been longing for just this—
to wash her hands of all of us, and with a final hiss,
she turned upon her heel and marched out of the front door
got in her car and drove away–straight into family lore!

We don’t know what became of her but ever since that night
whenever, at clan gatherings, the kids begin to fight
about who should do the dishes, you can bet someone will tell
the story of how Annie escaped the jaws of Hell
by taking her turn at dishes, and it’s true that not a kid
believes the story any more than our Aunt Annie did!

Word prompts for the last day of 2020 are understated elegance, galvanize, wishes and resolution. Image by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash, used with permission.

Masquerade

Masquerade

In a world that seems a satire of itself,
we come out of our separate closets masked,
as though nature is warning us
not to reveal too much, too soon.

Much as we desire a safer world,
and as much as I yearn to bring you
tidings of peace and good will,

peace is not a goal accomplished,
so though I mask my face,
I do not mask my words.


We are silhouettes
striking out from our shadows,

sharing our pain in retribution.
Hearts fester in their isolation
and communicate through violence—
blowing up the world
they don’t belong to,
 easier
than the heart’s
unmasking.

In blasting their way into our world,
they pull us after them, 
and we sink
to the lowest common denominator—
violence, hate and greed.

If wishes were action,
perhaps the world could heal,
but, in fact,
it heels
to the commands
of those who seek to stain and plunder.

My wish for the new year’s birth?
As hearts of darkness

seek to lead the way,
let some bright flash
that is a part of all of us
ignite in common
to conquer their shadows
and strip all masks away.

 

Prompt words today are satire, silhouette, wishes and tidings.

Gigolo

Gigolo

Though he was a misanthrope,
his beauty gave him grounds to hope
that he could find a sugar mama
to soothe his monetary trauma.
And thus he plotted that he might
seduce an aged socialite.

He charmed her with so little fuss
that he found it ridiculous.
Yet if he wished to wed and woo her,

he knew that he would have to “do” her.
(If he must pretend to love her,
he knew he must go under cover.)

But once he’d done his very best
and thought it time for him to rest,
the dowager was sorely vexed.
“Oops!” she said, and then, “What’s next?”
The price of love, he thought, was steep.

He’d clearly have to earn his keep!

 

Prompts for today are what next, ridiculous, hope and oops. Photo by Gift Habeshaw on Unsplash, used with permission.

Sister One and Sister Two

Sister One and Sister Two

Sister one and sister two, not evenly endowed.
One evaded notice while the other sister wowed.

A curvaceous body and over-ample bodice
caused the gentlemen in town to label her a goddess.

And while competing suitors stirred up quite a kerfuffle,
somehow her older sister got lost within the shuffle.

The younger married early and had children one, two, three,
while the elder went to college and got a law degree.

Now she deals with matters such as writs and laws and torts
while her sis wipes runny noses and irons hubby’s shorts.

In her Freshman year, big sis bloomed into a cutie,
but in her full maturity she turned into a beauty.

She’s done business in London, where she met the queen,
been to Italy and Sweden and places in between.

She’s weekended in Paris and sailed the Grecian coast,
and though she’s made some conquests, she’s not inclined to boast.

Her opponents in the courtroom find her erudite and smart.
First she wins her cases, and then she wins their heart.

In short, not every teenage girl may be a beauty queen,
but from high school to one’s dotage, there are chances in  between!

One day she will marry, but in the interim
she’s savoring the process of finding the right “him.”

Prompt words today are shuffle, goddess, ending. Image by Corinne Kutz on Unsplash, used with permission.

SANDERSON’S STORE

Sanderson’s Store

Allowance day on Saturday dispelled the winter’s gloom
of trudging through the snow to school or sealed up in my room.
Too cold and blizzardy outside, my mother had the gall
to ban me to a play space of room and stairs and hall.

No Fox Fox Goose, no snow forts. No sliding on the ice
of sidewalks frozen over.  Just games of cards and dice,
dolls and dressing up in my older sister’s clothes.
No snow boots shedding ice and sludge. No chilblains on my nose.

Oh but on certain Saturdays, with weather calming down,
armed with dough, we kids would form a caravan to town
six blocks away, ploughing the snow with boots sliding in front of us,
a column of five kids or more made snowdrifts feel the brunt of us.

Flashing our allowances, we plundered penny sweets
in the big assorted box of Tootsie Rolls and treats
like Double Bubble, Chicken Bones, Fireballs and Nik-L-Nips.
Now and Laters, Jelly Beans and chewable Wax Lips.

Tootsie Rolls and Red Hots, M&Ms and Jaw Breakers.
Malt balls, Sugar Babies, Lemon Heads and Necco Wafers.
As we counted out our pennies, Tet would add one candy more
every Saturday that we could get to Sanderson’s Store. 

Prompt words today are caravan, gall, gloom and candy. (Jelly beans, M& Ms and candy heart photos thanks to Unsplash. Used with permission.)

 

Here is a note I got from Mary, She is the grandniece of Tet (of Sanderson’s Store.) 

“This certainly brings back warm memories. I remember getting my brown bag of candy at Sanderson’s to take to the show with me on Saturday night. Aunt Tet loved all the kids and wouldn’t take her lunch break until after all the kids had stopped to buy their treats on their way back to school. I had forgotten some of the candies you mentioned. Thanks for sharing this with me. I loved it!  Mary.”

Below is a photo of Tet, standing between her sister Melitha and her brother, M.E., who was a recruiter for Cornell College in Iowa and who recruited my older sister Betty Jo to go to college there. My middle sister, Patti, also went there for one year. Lots of connections in a small town.

Substitutions

 

Substitutions

An open window, an open door
from a block away or more,
may leak a song whose melody
brings forth a long-lost memory.

Its strains may bring a prompt detection
of an overlooked reflection—
that abrupt awareness of
those substitutes for human love.

A cat, a dog, a garden full
of beauty that exerts its pull—
diversions that can take the place
of a well-loved absent face.

So we fill in each empty spot
where each loved-one, alas, is not,
making do with what what’s around—
those near-distractions that we’ve found.

Prompts for today are substitute, abrupt, reflect and music.

I spent all day trying to fight off a migraine. Soon after I woke up I lost half my vision—could only seen the right side of my head by turning my head sideways.  I took a couple of caffeine pills, hoping that it was the beginning of a migraine—fearing the alternative more. My vision eventually came back but a nagging little headache persisted so I took more caffeine, tried to eat around 3 but had terrible indigestion and more of a headache. Finally, I took an Extra-Strength Tylenol along with a Coke, which I knew would give me arm and/or leg cramps, but it was preferable to a full-strength migraine. Went down to the hammock with an audible book so I could close my eyes, Morrie jumped up on my lap and Diego hung his head over the side of the hammock seeking my other hand. I pulled my cowl neck over my head to avoid their stinky bodies and breaths (bath-time is in order) and finally, blessedly, fell asleep. Aroused by a phone call from a good friend, after hanging up, I was seized by a massive foot cramp, got up and stamped it out and came up to the house where the pups and kitties were glad to finally have their meal a few hours late. Not the best day in the world but it brings me to the reason for telling you my woes, other than your sympathy—that being the reason why I haven’t yet written and published my poem for the day. So, finally, at 8 in the evening, here it is.

 

6 A.M., Dec. 24, 2020


6 A.M., December 24, 2020

All around my room and all around the house,
everything is still and quiet as a mouse.
All the sounds of living are muffled by the night,
as if a large hand censors both my hearing and my sight.

Then the greater world is thrust into my ear—
a single church bell tolling is all that I can hear
signaling the hour—6 A.M. again—
a barrage of fireworks setting up its din

to welcome us to Christmas Eve though it is merely morn.
It is our second  notice that a child will be born.
First the star low in the west—a bauble in the sky
tells the whole world of the day that is coming nigh.

Odors of the pine tree, presentiment of myrrh,
the stirring of the dogs, the cat’s insistent purr,
the roasting of the turkey—the onions in the dressing
bring another sense to transmit the Christmas blessing.

A touch of lips ‘neath mistletoe can’t be far away,
bringing that last sense of touch to calm the worldly fray.
May all the troubles of the world thereby find surcease
and for this brief holiday, may all the world find peace.

Prompt words today are mouse, great, bauble and living. Image by Peter Bucks on Unsplash, used with permission.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa

Make the sleigh bells jingle, put leather to the back
of every lazy reindeer. You’ve an extra-heavy pack
to deliver in this year when folks can’t get out shopping
so there’ll be way more presents that you’ll need to be dropping. 

You’ve always been a busy guy every Christmas Eve,
but this year with the extra presents that you’ll have to leave,
you’ll need some extra energy and upon great reflection,
we’ve come up with some special means to show our great affection.

Milk and cookies will not be enough for you this year,
so we’ll leave you a Wassail cup, a porter or a beer
along with a sub sandwich, some cookies and some chips
and some vaseline with glitter to protect your chilblained lips.

May you have sufficient energy. May reindeer find a way
to keep up with the pressure of this extra special day.
And may you be assured while you’re delivering your plenty
that no year in the future will rival 2020!!!

 

 

Prompt words today are glitter, leather, wassail and jingle.