Patchwork Prose and Verse
March 13, 2020
I clenched my shawl
tightly
at my breast
my fingers
grasping the fringe
frayed threads
hanging
on the edge
taking deep breaths
winnowing what remained
from all that was ripped away
I enjoyed Zoom
time with Penny Kittle today and found her strategies so helpful!
Long Ride Home
Six Flags over Georgia, 1977
chain-clicking roller coaster
metal of the
Great American Scream Machine
shrieks of free-fall
cheeks flattened to face
against the wind,
angel wings threatened
sticky sweetness of cotton candy
colorful quilt batting
scenting adolescent sweat
church youth group trying every chaperone’s nerves
three-striped Adidas and jeans
with ruler-sized pocket combs
protruding from back pockets
worn proudly
leaving a statement behind
mine, orange with purple letters:
“Back Seat”, a pre-GPS indicator
T-shirt booth with vinyl iron-on transfers
like warm dough fresh out of the dryer
I picked silver-glittered
Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band
on a black shirt – for the Friday night roller skating rink hangout
with a drop off and pickup line like school
and almost held hands with Don W. but picked Bobby S. instead
my preacher dad a chaperone
finding out
my fortune cookie warning:
A long ride home is in your future.
Terriertorial
Like two jealous kids
Vying for our affection
These dogs pick show fights
My father has always written his sermons with a fountain pen – he is the sheer image of a Dickensian writer hovering over his inkwell at his antique oak desk. So the tradition of fountain pen writing with a lazier spin (no inkwell) passed to my hands.
Be Ye Transformed
All because of
my gene pool
the choice
became
critical
my pen preference
particular
the silver spoon
of a poor preacher’s kid
neither chisel
nor charcoal
on stone
or papyrus
rather
a medium nib
rich indigo ink
a selection of styles
for any occasion
the everyday best choice:
a Pilot Varsity
Disposable
Fountain Pen
wielded at a 40 degree angle
moderate pressure
on the nib
flashing like
the shield of a warrior
winning the day
National
Fountain Pen Day –
celebrated annually
since 2012
on the first Friday
of November
stories and histories
more orthodox than Bic
(cult following thick)
to celebrate:
take my hand
dare to
wade into the
fountain
be baptized
sprinkled
immersed
a fountain pen mermaid disciple
be ye transformed
Link to fountain pen blogs:
I am visiting my daughter and celebrating another anniversary of a miracle – her story of drug addiction and restoration proves that God’s love wins over evil. He body slammed the devil and brought her out of that lair! I wrote a “skinny” today. For every parent, child, friend with a loved one in the grips of addiction – keep praying!
Modern-Day Miracle
God saves those beyond all hope
Miraculously
Gracefully
Mercifully
Lovingly
Miraculously
Powerfully
Tenderly
Redemptively
Miraculously
God saves
Miracles
Nashville, Tennessee
mother, daughter celebrate
brand new Birkenstocks!
supper: salmon steaks
risotto cauliflower
fresh-steamed Brussels sprouts
evening: Zen garden
bamboo wall, tiki torches
rock-scaped patio
Farmer’s Market stop
succulents and Bonsai trees
jewelry treasures
Frist Art Museum
Picasso’s U.S. Tour stop
Disfigurement art
Whole Foods Market stop
fresh, healthy food abundance!
picnic on a whim
Hammock in the park
by the city Parthenon
lazy, breezy rest
Red cabbage and kraut
The Bavarian Bierhaus
Big German pretzel
Playing dominoes
With a side game of Scrabble
Coffee, happiness!
Blue Period passed,
recovering daughter lives!
God answers prayers.
Fear of Flying
Flying solo to Nashville
Boarding pass in hand
Concourse train to A Gates
People everywhere!
Feeling alone in the crowd
Going through security
Shoes off, feet apart, hands up, scanned
Surrounded by strangers
Standing way too close
Feeling insecure in security
Watching green-winged Covids
Swarming throngs of folks
Like a swatted beehive….
Am I really “safe?”
Feeling vulnerably vaccinated
Feeling the real fear of flying….
Masks
No one likes a mask
Until they have a lip wax
And suffer wax burn
I snapped a photo of an inspiring poem on Good Friday as we were having a PL day before our spring break this week. Our #verselove host at http://www.ethicalela.com today, Margaret Simon, invited us to use a photograph to find our writing inspiration today. My verse is a rewording and extension of Micky Jones’ “Invitation to Brave Space.” This is dedicated to all writers who come to writing communities to write, to share, to encourage, to bloom!
#verselove2021 #SOL21
we come to this space
this brave space
scarred and wounded
turn down the world’s noise
tune in our hearing ears
to the amplified voices
of our community
to begin
to grow
in truth and love
to embrace imperfection
to work together
to express
to write
to feed
to water
to bloom
Anna Roseboro inspired me to wrote a poem based on Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “We Wear the Mask.”
I went back and forth between an Etheree and a Golden Shovel form – I decided on an Etheree
– ten lines with that number of syllables in each line. I wrote mine in descending order, using borrowed lines with some rearrangement of words.
Tortured Souls
Our cries to thee from tortured souls arise,
Christ, we smile, but oh, great Christ our cries!
We sing with torn and bleeding hearts,
Beneath our feet, long the mile!
Let them only see us
while we wear the mask.
It hides our cheeks,
Shades our eyes,
Masks the
Dream.
Common Threads 