Patchwork Prose and Verse
in my quasi sleep mode
where he kisses me goodbye
before leaving for work
he whispered
be careful when you open the door
there’s a mouse trying to get in
because that’s what happens on a farm
when even the field mouse have had it
with the scorching heat of summer
which prompted deep sleep dreams
of a mouse with a tiny suitcase
because his car ran out of gas
selling encyclopedias
running from a snake
proclaiming his testimony
asking for a glass of water
hoping to find a new home
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
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
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…….
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
two summers ago
I bought a
night-blooming
Cereus for
ten dollars
thinking of
Dennis the Menace
getting in the way
of that plant that
blooms every 100
years and wondering
whether I’d be up
late enough to ever
see it bloom or
whether some
distraction would
forever keep me
from seeing it
but this very week
as a friend lost her
husband, this flower
bloomed in the dead
of night
like a smile from
Heaven
at 4:37 I heard
scrambling of paw
on wood floor
ticky-toe hurried
steps toward
the bedroom door
next the whining,
different from normal
pleas, like someone
stepping full weight
on my Boo Radley
then a return to
the bed, where he
turned in circles
bumping us with
his body to wake
us up, then lay
between our heads
trembling
panting
as if there were
a ghost.
I took them out,
all three,
in the light balmy
mist of the
pitch black
Georgia backwoods
starry skies
thought of the bits
of squirrel tail
over near the tree
line where violent
death hung in the
recent air
we came back
inside, and I turned
off the light to return
to bed.
A flicker after the
switch-off, and I
knew.
Hello, Mom!
every few days
I have the urge
to sell everything
we own and move
into the camper with
two plates, two forks,
and two spoons
and share a knife~
to retire, take to
the highways, see
the changing landscape
of America, pulling
our flatware and
plates from
site to site
no particular place to be
no pressing deadline to meet
then I come to my senses
trying to reckon with the
reality of the silverware
drawer and all those
cabinets.
Day 6
our Boo Radley
did a most
surprising thing ~
our Boo
forced a threatening
brown bull to retreat
to turn tail
and
take to the woods
or was that his intention?
was he a charger of bulls
or was he a shepherd
of cows?
was he herding them
back in their farm direction
because he knew they
were lost, drifters one
farm south of theirs,
needing a nudge?
this is, after all
the Funny Farm,
where you have
to be a little
sideways to end
up here in the
land of the
unexpected
where wrinkles in
perceptions become
realities like this:
Boo Radley is a
shepherding schnoodle
of lost herds, the
meanest bulls not
excluded, because
he knows how it feels
to be lost, looking
for home, aggressively
persuading them not
to give up a good thing
all this brings back
the day we were
on the beach
late afternoon
on a cloudy day
sipping wine
on a blanket
when two women
much further into
their bottle
walked by us too close
to our beach campout
according to Boo
Boo corrected
them
~not politely~
and in their swagger,
in their smirks,
their chuckles,
one taunted back:
oh, what a little badass!
fast forward
the years
to today and I
want to go back
to that moment
and say
yes ma’am,
he certainly is!
he fulfilled the
prophesy at the bottom
of your
wine bottle
you saw the future
of our little rescue
Schnoodle named
Boo Radley~
a champion badass
herder of bulls
you weren’t bullshitting
untitled painting
strolling through the museum
white grape sour on glass
in left hand, merlot
in right, pinot grigio
blending portmanteaus
am I naive to
believe that purple foxgloves
bloom in forgiveness?
that what was destroyed
smiles Heaven’s understanding
and blesses again?
or am I just a
poet choosing to believe
signs hold messages?
Common Threads 