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

Reduced Speed Ahead

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Reduced Speed Ahead

crave different days

not working deadline-driven

not governed by clocks

seems all or nothing

drowning in a swift riptide

too tired to love life

sacrificing hearts

of days just to earn a wage

what’s a better way?

What Chickens and Pigs Teach

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we could take lessons

from chickens in a dust bath

shaking it all off

instead dwell in mud

wallowing unforgiveness

pig kin bickering

get out of the mire

unstuck from the yucky muck

before it’s too late!

*inspired by a recent sermon heard on YouTube

Day 16 of #VerseLove with Dave Wooley: Sevens Up

Dave Wooley is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the 16th day of #VerseLove, inspiring us to write seven- line poems called Kwansabas. You can read his full prompt here, along with the poems and comments of others.

Dave describes this process:

The Kwansaba is an African-American poetic form that was created by Eugene Redmond in 1995. It is inspired by the seven days of Kwanzaa and it is a praise poem

The rules of the form are:
-it is a seven line poem,
-each line is seven words in length,
-each word is seven letters or less,
-and the poem should be a praise poem

He’s Back

today I praise this dim quiet spot

this sweet spot, still, fan breeze blowing

air on my face: my current view

is the ceiling and flutter eyelid blinks

because Vertigo demands all of my being

ghost thief of time, work, family dinners,

but mark my words: still, I’ll rise

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Day 10 of #VerseLove with Joanne Emery

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Our host today at http://www.ethialela.com for Day 10 of #VerseLove2024 is Joanne Emery, who inspires us to borrow ideas and lines from another poem to inspire our own. You can read her full prompt here, along with the poems and comments of others.

She explains her process: Find a line in the poem that stands out to you, expresses something about yourself. Then continue the poem while reflecting how you live your life. 

We used Jane Hirschfield’s poem My Life Was the Size of My Life, and I borrowed this line from hers:

and closed its hands, its windows

I also chose one from Joanne’s poem Larger than My Life

with perfect white teeth, smiling

Keystones

our house with keystones

with perfect white teeth, smiling

to raise our children

you pulled all its teeth

and closed its hands, its windows

we bloomed in the dark

The Power of Connection in a Slice of Life Neighborhood- Slice of Life Challenge Day 22, Stafford Challenge Day 66

Special Thanks to Two Writing Teachers
The windows should all be open, but Gemini didn’t listen.

A week ago, Lainie Levin posted an announcement that I wish could be reposted every day. Below, she states that engaging with others is the single most powerful thing that builds community during this challenge.

I emailed her immediately to ask if I could repost this announcement. She readily agreed.

Which brings me to a connection that stopped me in my tracks. I was having a conversation with the Poetry Fox as we were working out the details of his visit to Georgia from North Carolina. I asked him to describe what his events look like, and he told me that he sits at his typewriter and writes on-demand poetry for people who give him a word. He said, “And really, it’s not even about the poem. It’s about the connections I make and the people I get to meet. Those moments of connecting with someone are what it’s all about.”

I’ve thought about this again and again as I have returned to the conversation and the blog announcement and reflected on the power of connection. This community would be nothing without it. I realize that when I wake up during March and get to open the blogging windows and drink my coffee with an entire community and we’re all talking to each other about the slices of our lives and what is happening, there is power in these moments. We may all be tired and worn thin some days, but I know things about you – the people in my community – and I know many of your family members and how you spend time.

I know Paul likes to cook and actually likes Brussels sprouts (I thought I was the only one), Glenda likes to travel and has a voracious appetite for adventure (and will be having quite an adventure today – – I won’t spoil her surprise, but be on the lookout for something uniquely and colorfully …..uplifting)! Denise hikes in the desert and has a stargazer window in her house, Fran watches birds and is teaching her little granddaughters to love them too, Maureen also has two young granddaughters who love music and art and the outdoors, Peter is beginning to grieve the loss of a loved one and many of us are keeping his family close in our thoughts, Barb loves poetry slams and art exhibits and spending time outdoors, Sally checks in on her mom and has a granddaughter with new shoes, Margaret lives on the bayou and has the cutest ducks that jump into the water on jump day, and Joanne loves flowers and gardening. And I’m getting to know each of you, too!

Even though we all live in different places across the nation and beyond, I imagine a high rise brick apartment building where we’re all sitting in an open window chatting, waving, greeting each other at the start of the day, and smiling, rather like we might look from windows on the cover of the New Yorker if someone illustrated all of us in one drawing. We’d see floral window boxes for the green thumbs, cats and dogs with the animal lovers, and food cooking on the stoves of the culinary artists. We’d see children playing with grandmothers and, in a Paul Fleishman Seedfolks-ish kind of way, we’d all be connecting, contributing in beautiful ways to the community vegetable garden and sharing what we have to share, helping as we can, reaching out as we have needs that others can help meet.

Connection. Conversation. Sharing. Caring, Responding in kindness. Giving. Living.

Because that’s what community and connection are all about, and it’s also what writing is about – – reaching the next person. Not the word choice, not the capitalization of proper nouns, and not the run-on sentences (which, like Brussels sprouts, I love, by the way).

Thank you for these marathon days in March where we build our own neighborhood, and the Tuesdays throughout the year where we keep in touch! And to the owners of the Slice of Life apartment building for letting us move in for a month, rent-free, a huge debt of gratitude is owed for all of your hard work in keeping the lights on and the water running.

You each make a difference!

Slice of Life Challenge 

Slice of Life Challenge
community connections:
open your windows!

pour a cup of tea
share family recipes
show trip photographs

compare hobby notes
reveal hopes and dreams
share fears and shed tears

open your windows!
connect with fellow writers
plant seeds. water them.

March Open Write Day 5, Stafford Challenge Day 64, Slice of Life Challenge Day 20

Special Thanks to Two Writing Teachers
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Shelley of Oklahoma is our host today for the final day of the March Open Write, encouraging us to write poems to help us relax. You can read her full prompt here. I have one of those conferences today – the kind in a town with a gas station and a stop sign and maybe a hot dog in the gas station and nothing else, and I’m driving in with coworkers from an hour and seven minutes northeast, and I’m not overnighting so I have to leave early and get home late and I know the coffee’s gonna suck because it always does when they have those plastic canisters of powdered creamer and only pink-packet off-brand sweetener.

But I’m trying to relax.

Really.

Frumpy

Relax - no one cares
whether your pants match your shirt
or that they're wrinkled

Relax - no one cares
that the tops of your feet are
white as unbaked bread

Relax - no one sees
you picking at your fingers
of chipped nail polish

Relax - no one knows
your Odor Eaters are now
expired by three months

Relax - just because
you forgot to tweeze your lip
doesn't mean don't go

After all: you're the
driver....others are counting
on you to get there

Relax - your oil got
changed, your gas tank's full and your
car is vacuumed out

Relax - your riders
might find your car is cleaner
than theirs (not driven)

Relax - wait, is that
.....is that a seam coming out?
It's right on the butt

Nope, don't relax. Go
change pants. Nothing clean? That's what
long sweaters are for.

Heck, grab a blanket
and wrap up like a student
.....relax for a change!




March Open Write Day 4, Slice of Life Challenge Day 19, Stafford Challenge Day 63

Special Thanks to Two Writing Teachers

Rex Muston of Iowa is our host today for the 4th day of the March Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. He inspires us to use our kitchen junk drawer to inspire poetry. You can read his full prompt here.

A kitchen junk drawer is second only as frightening to me as forgetting a piece of clothing and showing up at work for everyone to see all truth. It’s downright scary except for the drawer I did clean out last weekend. I still have one to go, and it’s the worst one. An invitation to explore those quirky drawer corners is fantastic! I love that even in the oddities, the junk, there are revelations of life and memories.  

Unbanded

One junk drawer
is empty
~the middle one~
but the one
on the edge
is chock-full
of random bits
and pieces

a years’ supply
of 9V batteries
for the
smoke alarms
we change
often
because
Boo Radley shivers
at the smell of
toaster heat and
smoke alarm chirps

plus the goat ball
banding tool
and bright orange
bands
as if the
whole horrid
thing
needed a
screaming
fluorescent
proclamation
across the farm

and a vintage
unfiltered
cigarette-
sized box of
Happy Family
ceramic pigs
from England

a mama
and twin
piglets
but no daddy
there was never
even a space
for his
unbanded
self

now
from the
Funny Farm
kitchen
windowsill
Mama smiles
with a sparkle-eye
bats her eyelashes
and thinks….

freedom!