Great Granny’s Caramel Cake

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my great granny Lena

made a caramel layer cake

second to none

back in the 1930s

between the Great Depression

and the sugar rationing years

teaching her daughters

the fine art of baking

just the way to moisten

the flour

just the way to bake

to touch

just the way to cook

the caramel sauce

not staying true

to any recipe, just

baking from the

knowing

baking from the heart

the way it tastes best

downtown,

a young man

“helps” an old lady across the

street when she

doesn’t want to go

still, emails come

offering to

pound cakes into molds

like this

the kind of store-bought

cake no one raves

about ever:

We are prepared

to support leaders

with individualized

coaching to positively

impact their school districts. 

We have assembled

some of the best professionals

throughout the state to serve

as executive coaches.

We have made it a top priority

to provide this

performance-based l

leadership to inspire

leaders to “GROW” and achieve

maximum impact

my granny Lena knew the art

of a thing could not

underpower

the science of a thing

because frosting-forcing

falls miserably ~ implodes

like a cake that might

have been delicious

In Places Loved Nonet

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today I loaded my car with books

first editions, autographed names

I’m holding on no longer

to these inked hostages ~

those sentiments are

not mine; nor those

memories ~

I’ve let

go

of

housing

what should live

in places loved

where their worth is not

measured in value of

possible return or in

collectors’ satisfaction but

in what’s inside ~ their words and message

Toxic Relics

in Genesis

Lot’s wife looks

back longingly

to the past

before turning into

a pillar of salt ~

so as I part with

these pieces of

past, these

memory scars of

what once was

but is no more

I heed

Luke’s caution ~

that the past can be

the kiss of

death for

the present

old books

have arsenic

old paint

has lead

old memories

have heartache

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Slice of Life and Open Write June Day 4 with Anna Roseboro

My writing groups converge today – Slice of Life Challenge writers and Open Write writers take joy on days when we get to see all of our fellow writers on the same day when the stars align. I’m so grateful for these groups of writers who are positive people, inspiring others to write. I also joined The Stafford Challenge in January, and we are around Day 160 of writing a poem every day for one entire year – so we’re close to the middle mark. Where would I be without my writing family? I don’t want to know.

Anna Roseboro of Michigan is our host for Day 4 of the June Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. She inspires us today to write reflection/projection poems, using synonyms for those words by looking forward and looking back. You can read her full prompt here. Today I have a working retreat before going off contract for three weeks over the summer, so I’ll be doing a lot of this today. I wrote a nonet, a nine-line poem with line-numbered syllables on each line in descending order.

Slice of Life writers are bloggers who share our posts and something about the moments of our lives. We write every day during March and all through the year on Tuesdays. You can find the home page at www.twowritingteachers.org to learn more. Today’s Slicing prompt is thinking about what inspires us to write on the early days of summer. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m almost there…….

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Almost There

glancing backward to focus forward

setting the sails on this boat

checking wind direction

untying the ropes

feeling the breeze

smiling now

almost

there

Open Write June Day 1 with Sarah Donovan at www.ethicalela.com in the style of June Jordan

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For Day 1 of the June Open Write, Dr. Sarah J. Donovan of Stillwater, Oklahoma invites us to write poetry using the mentor poet June Jordan’s poetry. You can read Sarah’s full prompt here.

Now This

these nights
they are
hormonal hot
flash hell ~
flapping bedbirds
fluffing sheets
sleeplessly
in all the heat
and rumble
of the dark

these nightmares
they rage in ~
nocturnal carnage
at the screaming
speed of melatonin
on the yellow
eyes of a
Great Horned
Owl in a
trembling tree hollow

these scarecrows
they lurk now
in apocalyptic meadows
where as children
we found
peaceful slumber
we called
sweet dreams ~
all those sugarplums
that once danced
in our heads

~ now this

Going Bananas

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when the world

takes on its murky

hue and the heaviness

of the anchor spirals

downward making it

hard to keep my head

above water I wonder

about my age

and whether I’ve

depleted all the

happy chemicals

or whether I

just need to

eat a banana

What Wolves Do

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don’t let a wolf

in the hen house

first, you’ll see

a feather, wayward

flitting in the breeze

stuck to the ground

next you’ll

come up short

on the evening

headcount

twelve will be ten

then eight as

two by two

they all disappear

consumed by the

always hungry wolf

doing what wolves do:

devouring the innocent

Blind Rage Rispetto

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Blind Rage Rispetto

such blind rage overtakes me on a thought

these triggers self-combust in open flame

one moment I’m quite civil, next I’m not

and all the same, I know you’re not to blame

I’m not sure how to turn things back around

to compromise and find some common ground

to put the world back on an even keel

……until I try to feel how you must feel

Invitation

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Invitation

I was once

invited to a

wedding

but I saw

the truth

of that

invitation

and

declined

without hesitation

without gift

without regret

without excuse