Patchwork Prose and Verse
it occurred to me
in the shower
this morning that
the work shoes
I just bought
may be the last ones
I’ll need for my career ~
these last-hurrah celebration shoes:
Life Stride flats with
Velocity 2.0 footbeds
in navy and taupe
may get me through my
remaining years
taking me straight into
the retirement years of
my soul spirit
classic hippie Birkenstocks
for all the frayed denim
and fringed shawl
days ahead
just not today,
not yet.
Anna Roseboro of Michigan is our host today for our fifth and final day of the August Open Write. Anna encourages us to walk through poetry from #VerseLove 2024 and apply the TIME acronym to the elements of a poem and construct a verse about one of our choice. You can read her full prompt here. I chose Stacey Joy’s Our Old Kitchen Table to think about these elements in her poem and to write about each.
Time
Imagery
Music
Emotion
Tabletime Tempos
Through all these tender table times
In games, gatherings, cartoons, showers,
Meals, drumrolls of dice and laughter and tears against
the backdrop of time ticking
Emanating life tempos tintinnabulated and tolled, thus told
around the old kitchen table
sometimes when
I am alone
only the stars are visible
in the empty darkness
my mother’s laughter
twinkles from Heaven
and I feel the
narrowness
of my grief
only the stars are
visible when
the trees close their
eyes and lift
their leaves
in prayer
when this
pinhole light
of heaven
seeps down
breathing song
into leaf
into branch
into trunk
into forest
when shimmery
halo glitter
of ancestral
angels
cascades down
swaying waves
into oceans
into lakes
into streams
and creeks
for all the world
to hear
the music
of hope
for all those
still here
who listen
**first lines inspired by words photographed at The Immersive Titanic Exhibit in Atlanta, Georgia last weekend
that moment when you
see your book cover
for the first time with
your group of writing
friends and hold back tears
for all the waiting,
for all the writing,
for all the hours spent
anticipating
what you always but
never dreamed so real
and possible and
finally right here
here it is, set to
launch September 2
stay tuned for the link
to our stories, to
our wounds, to our hearts,
to our healing words
Cheers for Words That Mend!
she’s there
but I can’t
hear her
I can only see her
she comes to me
in dreams
we travel
climb stairs
sit at tables
drinking coffee
in B&Bs
holding presence
we piddled together through the mart
antiques, novelties, glove sizers
didn’t buy a single thing
except lunch — (we bought that)
fly in her water
didn’t keep it
sent it back
ordered
wine
I see his figure
peeking around the sage chair
looking right at me
acting non-chalant
resting briefly to lick paws
he stretches out, yawns
as if he does not
have a burning agenda
playing me a fool
his ball rests nearby
then a thump of his black tail
and a sudden pounce
an invitation
to an early-morning game
that I can’t resist
Camping families
more than half of us have pets
(One official stat)
the day after Open Writes
when we go back to writing
without the company of
friends makes me miss them
Common Threads 