A Wee Bit of Advice

 ~ For Friday Writings Magaly has us considering the juxtaposition between despair and delight ~ 

Good Afternoon, my friends. Take a step outside to breathe in that fresh air, sit yourself down for a moment of peace and quiet ~ enjoy a cup of tea or coffee, a glass of lemonade, wine ~ or a stiff belt of something stronger if you so desire. 

NOW turn “them” off. I'll wait. Just turn them OFF! OK? Better? Turn off the scrolling doom, the flashing alerts, and the weight of a world that feels constantly broken. We need moments like these, to resettle ourselves, to turn off the crazy noise.

Breathe in, breathe out, you'll know when the volume, the incessant shouting, has diminished. Now close your eyes, open them to look at something that gives you joy, peace and comfort ~ maybe your garden, your child, your pet.

Simply BE for a moment. IN the moment. You may learn that between despair and delight lives afternoon delight! 

I Promise.

---

Remembering Sally ~~~

 

 

She formed words

in her mind

brilliant, succinct

words she could not speak 

mind intact, body failing

motor neurons misfiring

muscles wasting

bone density lost 

like iron converting to rust 

there was no way out

 

no happy ending

disintegration unstoppable

ALS ~ a cruel, merciless disease

For Friday Writings #227

 Rommy supplied poets with several memorable lines from The Princess Bride, encouraging us to choose one as inspiration for our poems. [we also had the option of choosing  another line from the movie]  I chose Westley saying to Buttercup "hear this now: I will always come for you"  

** As You Wish **

Even if delayed by dragons, rain

or a goose with territorial issues ..

I shall arrive dramatically windblown

Hear this now: I will always come for you.

Take A Chance

sometime in the late 70's

take a chance, take a chance, take a chance 

is chanted [rapidly] during this ABBA song

my little quartette got all tongue-tied

then we began to giggle 

giggles soon turned into guffaws

we had to leave the stage

talk about embarrassing

Listen to the song, you will soon understand!

A Barrage of Books!

this is the home library

of a good and great friend

his library speaks volumes

[ pardon the pun ] 

those who love him

label him 'a hoarder'

[ in the most gentle of tones ]

the beauty of his quasi Dewey Decimal system ~

he knows exactly where to find what he seeks

even though it may rest 

in a stack on the floor or on dining room table

this historic home was built in 1902

quite close to the 1904 World's Fair site

rumour has it dignitaries from Europe 

rented the home for 

weeks at a time during the Fair ~

if they could see it now!

Unfinished Business

Rosemary [ Friday Writings ] asks we respond to a provocative question:

 "This world has no meaning. Why fucking bother?” 

Also Submitted to Lisa and the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Open Link Night

'The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep'. ** Robert Frost **

you ask me why, why bother at all?

i have stood in that question's shadow

in a world that shrugs at meaning 

should i forget the sound 

of my own footsteps

it will only grow louder

the woods are lovely, dark, and deep

but i haven't come this far

to lie down in them just yet

meaning is not found ..

it is made in the small

insistence "of staying"

so why bother?

because my story is not done

because love has not released me

because there are miles before me

i walk them, shoulders back

gloriously awake

  

Thirty-one ~ My Lucky Number

 “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” 

~ George Orwell 

 

look at this clock face with doubt

a 13 where 12 should appear

turn it about let "my number" shout 

thirty-one’s mine ~~  are we clear ??

Feeling Deeply

Rosemary asks us to share something precious today ~ feelings we hold deeply and close to our hearts with the Friday Writings Community 

Also sharing with dVerse Poets

Once upon a time

not that long ago

our special needs Son, Carl

walked into the living room and asked me:

"Mom, if you and Dad had known

how I would be ... would you still have had me?"

Yes, those were his exact words

I was momentarily dumb-struck

trying hard to find some semblance of composure 

I responded ... 

"You, my precious Son, are without a doubt the best thing that ever happened to our family .. you made each of us BETTER human beings! I cannot imagine our lives without YOU. You've inspired us to be generous, empathetic, inclusive, without bias. 

Everyone who knows you, customers who interact with you each day at Safeway [ the supermarket where Carl works ] admire and respect you!" You brighten their days, elevate them.

Carl is turning sixty-five this year

He is my housemate, my buddy

travel companion and assistant chef 

he makes me laugh, we share movies 

television shows, sporting events

concerts, walks and dinners out.

a family strong

what is truly important 

for all our lifetime 

 

Remembering Tuscany, 2016

Magaly provides this phrase as inspiration for our poetry ~ “the world is burning, but…”  

the world is burning, but

when olive groves call

leaves dance in the breeze

Marching in Tandem

 Women who shaped history:

~~ it was not salvation

it was an ignition

 Eve struck the first match

tired of being blamed for hunger

Sappho carved fire into the air

with nothing but her voice

Joan didn't wait for permission

she lit the battlefield herself

Harriet ran the tunnels 

torch in hand

Factory girls, suffragists

riveters like Rosie with scarves tied tight

My great-grandmother, grandmother

carried their own pilot lights

small but steady

and then it was our turn

done whispering, done shrinking, done waiting

for someone else to flip the switch 

We stepped forward, struck the spark

marched in tandem 

made the tunnel learn 

what a woman on fire looks like !!!!

Spin the Bottle ~ 1953

Bjorn is hosting Open Link Night in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ I'm sharing this poem with the Pub-goers and Poets and Storytellers United   

A heavyweight bout happening tonight in

Marcia's basement ~ between the

record player and a huge bowl of popcorn

five boys, five girls are seated in a circle on pillow-soft carpet 

In the circle's center a bottle spins

and where it stops, is anybody's guess

Suddenly everyone's an expert on 

proper kissing technique

[despite zero field experience]

hearts thump ~ is it love?

brains shrug ~ it is not!

stomachs ask ~ is this ok?

curiosity whispers 'hush hush' lean in

for two seconds of bravery

and one clumsy kiss

the universe does not explode 

love wins the point

indifference demands a rematch

but we're twelve ~ we just giggle

wipe mouths on our sleeves

spin again ~ because curiosity

always has the house advantage

Spontaneous Combustion

Rosemary has us thinking "Fireworks" ~~ I'm thinking the Personal Brand of "shooting stars ~~ hearts going Pitter-pat!!!

 New Year's Eve, 1984

Suddenly, the night turned technicolor

I saw you

a fuse lit somewhere deep inside

my world responding with fireworks

every spark in the sky 

like electricity between us 

no time to think ~ only the rush 

that wild certainty something 

rare had just begun 

Years folded over themselves

you are gone from this world

some loves never fade ~ they echo

like fireworks long after midnight

colors still drift behind closed eyes

 

# 10 Downing Street

 [ Confession ~ I don't know much about the British Prime Minister, Sir Keir Starmer ~ only what I've read ]

Sir Keir took the helm with a sensible frown

vowed order and progress would steady the Crown

he promised renewal, reform and repair

then tripped on tradition, loosened his hair

The UK keeps waving and singing its song

while Keir checks the balance of right versus wrong

a kingdom of nuance decorum and tea

where change moves as slowly as scones on the sea

Fourteen Words

 For Poets & Storytellers ~ Friday Writings

once I looked 

into your eyes 

I knew the flame of love 

burned bright

At A Glance

For Poets & Storytellers ~ Friday Writings

 Rosemary encourages us to use “flash poetry” in our poems ~ a distinct kind of prose poetry, characterized by ‘flashiness’: emotional intensity, immediacy, the capturing of a moment rather than a narrative! What do you 'see' in the art?

Spider's on the ceiling

 

watch him, legs askance 

can't behold him squarely

only sideways, at a glance

from 'cross the room I'm squinting

pretending he's not there

yet lock my eyes upon him

yes I took the dare

he knows I know he's lurking

eight eyes shine with mirth

I'll watch him sort of vaguely

give him a wide berth

In The Good Ole' Summertime ~~

* Origin of "Little Miss Muffet" Nursery Rhyme is Unknown *

Painting by John Everett Millais 1884 ~ Wikipedia

* Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet

eating her curds and whey 

'twas hot and mid-summer

ghostly goblins ~ surround her     

terrified ~ she cries who are you?

The past ~ come to haunt you

Big Ghoul proclaims, you pilfered our breakfasts 

when kids all were we

time to turn tables ~ now, now can't you see?

We're taking revenge ~ switching things up 

sweet breakfasts no longer for you

it's gruel and cold toast, weak tea in a cup 

your future ~ Miss Muffet ..  BOO HOO !!

Celebrate Good Friends & Neighbors!

 

i made a board 'twas big and grand

cheeses, meats, deliciously planned

crackers stacked, olives snug

each fig and nut, the perfect plug

off I went to our neighbor's place

broad smile on my charcuterie face

halfway there - fate was mean

a sidewalk crack unseen - unseen

down I went, splatter and splat

grapes in the gutter, cheeses flat

almonds scattered, crackers broke

food art gone ~ in one fell stroke

scooped it up with wobbly grace

plopped the brie back into place

olives, figs, prosciutto too

lucky me ~ able to renew 

what a spread! the neighbors cheered

didn't see the olives smeared

wine in hand, the night went on

charcuterie board ~ my art reborn 

Post World War II

"I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul" 

Line from "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley

I.

We survived in spite of ourselves

the war took boys gave back men

shadows behind their eyes

the kind that linger in corners

even after lights come on

II.

it was a time of whispered grief

secrets kept in drawers

mothers who never wept

in front of their children

somewhere under linoleum floors

something tapped a rhythm not quite dead

III.

suburbs rose square and safe

white fences and welcome mats

televisions flickering promises in tidy living rooms

mothers baked pies, fathers mowed lawns

we pledged allegiance, kept our shoes polished

ducked and covered, hiding our dreams

IV.

i was forged in that era, but did not stay there

behind Sunday sermons and shiny Chevrolet coups

my soul tugged at the ropes

yearning to steer, learning to choose

i became master of my fate, captain of my soul

the world demanded it

i answered with a resounding “yes”