Patchwork Prose and Verse
What’s Next?
I’ve decided
that when I retire
I should go to
work for Caterpillar
pulling up
fence posts
dragging fences
lifting trash into
dumpsters
raising fig pickers
to the tip tops
of trees
retire from
education to
push the buttons,
turn the wheels,
steer the tires,
raise the levers of
heavy machinery
Today’s host for the second day of the July Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Jennifer Jowett of Michigan, who inspires us to write poems of loss. You can read Jennifer’s entire prompt here.
Get Lost
I keep showing them to the exit
but they refuse to leave, to make
themselves scarce once and for all
they’re like Velcro leeches
sacked-out partiers
who won’t get lost
they stick with
me, these
pounds
‘twas my last summer day off contract
and what did I do with my time?
basked in air conditioning
turned the thermostat low
gathered up a book
dogs in my lap
read the day
away,
napped
Hallmark’s Christmas in July movies
high velocity fan, full blast
pretending there’s a blizzard
piping hot black coffee
wrapped in sofa throw
Schnoodles piled high
all of us
beating
heat
The older I get, the less I can endure the extreme heat and humidity. Give me a blizzard to handle the scorching heat! I’ve found that a good snowy Hallmark Christmas in July movie with love instead of hate, free from the problems of the world, is my ticket to a better day! Raising a mug to you – Cheers! Stay cool!
we’re cleaning out a lifetime of stuff
making room for new adventures
goodbye to all the clutter
farewell to odds and ends
we’re clearing the air
ready for new
memories ~
coming
soon!
hot flashes nudge a
switch to cold brew coffee for
iced breeze sensations
better than cool sheets
more refreshing than hot brew
for summertime heat
they like their mini donut breakfasts
it’s what happens on Sundays here
pre First-Baptist-of-You-Tube
sitting at their dad’s feet
waiting on a bite
patient Schnoodles
best-behavied
time of
all
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
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
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
Common Threads 