Patchwork Prose and Verse
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
approaching the
edge of grief
alongside a friend
and the blur of the
numbing steals all
sense of time
and place and memory
of sequence of order
of hunger and thirst
of exhaustion in the
energy of fumes
we’d just returned
from lunch Tuesday
when her call came.
I’d missed it, called her
back to learn her
husband had fallen
from his chair at
work and she was
hospital bound.
I let our boss know.
A friend and I
arrived to a
room full of people
we did not know.
And just like that,
a lunch special
slice of pizza and
salad with lemon
water later, the
world is changed
forevermore
just hours
before she
broke down
in the waiting
room with the
declaration
we weren’t finished.
they were getting
ready for an afternoon
wedding when the
husband stepped out
of the shower, kissed
his wife, said
I love you, Blue Eyes
laid down on the
bed and died of
a heart attack
leaving her and
their four sons
grieving
this is why when
my husband came
to my bedside
this morning before
stepping into his
shower and kissed
me I wondered:
should I give him
an aspirin?
should I take one?
there’s an inner rage
that flames up and licks reason
charring, severing
forever changing
this relationship landscape
since she departed
Dr. Leilya Pitre of Ponchatoula, Louisiana is our host for today’s Open Write. She brings us a short form, the sevenling, which you can read about here.
Foxglove Funeral for a Grandson
Foxglove bells chime joy, bring smiles
on Mother’s Day in Georgia, painting gardens
in blush colors: the female womb blooms
Foxglove bells toll grief, stir longing
on Mother’s Day in Kentucky: a petal flips, a
cradle rocks in heaven ~ the female soul cries
empty arms mourning a baby not born
Darius Phelps of New York is our host today for Day 21 of #VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems of grief or disillusionment. You can read more about Darius and read his full prompt here. He mentions that the ancient Chinese believed that by burning the house down when relatives died, it would send the house to the place where they were so they could have their homes beyond this life. I reflected for a while on that idea this morning, even chuckling about the Calgon laundry whitener that I remember commercials for as a child – – an Asian actor would come into the frame holding a box, saying, “Ancient Chinese Secret” when someone wondered about how the clothes got so clean. I think the ancient Chinese had a lot of things right. Come join us and read today’s poems.
Up in Flames ^ Choose One: House or Legacy? ^ those ancient Chinese had it right: burn the house down! strike up the torch flame! better the house go up in smoke than the siblings killing each other who gets the dwelling? who gets the crystal timepiece? who "gets" anything? executor’s call: who gets to make decisions? who denies morphine? which one plans all meals? oh, but NO SUGAR, stage 4 cancer patient fat?!? what is this fresh hell?? give Mom a damn M&M! stop controlling LIFE! inheritance sucks some get fortunes, some get F(ORK$#) who "gets" anything??! those ancient Chinese had it right: strike the match and walk in peace from fire
Today is the second day of five days of January’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write and give positive feedback to at least three other writers. Our group currently has two anthologies of our published work, and today there is a third invitation to be part of another collection from the host. Please join us! Here is the direct link, where you can read about one of this month’s hosts, Glenda Funk from Idaho, and the inspiration she brings in her prompt: https://www.ethicalela.com/connecting-with-school-communities-in-the-aftermath-of-shootings-and-lockdowns/
Today’s prompt is to write a poem about the aftermath of school shootings in any form we choose. I chose to blend three chained Haiku poems with an acrostic.
In Despair In airports, guns banned! Not in schools - no one searches. Dear students: we failed! Empty nests: hearts grieve Searching clouds for loved ones’ signs, Parents pray for peace As children take flight Igniting grief eternal Ripped souls in despair
Common Threads 