Patchwork Prose and Verse
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
On any given morning, my family members in different group chats begin swapping random photos on a theme one of us starts. Saturday’s theme was our dogs. Dad sent a video of his schnoodle, Kona, getting her 5:30 a.m. treat from a friend at Parker’s gas station on St. Simons Island on their early morning routine walk. My brother sent not a photo of his dog, Kasa, but of the veterinary table where she was getting her shots (she’s a gorgeous Brittany, and I’d show her off every chance I got if I were him). I looked around and caught a glimpse of our aging rescue schnauzer, Fitz, sitting contemplatively in the brown velour chair that has become his window gazing chair.
This chair, one of a pair, matches nothing else in our house, so we have had it listed on Marketplace since bringing it home from one of Dad’s storage facilities to sell. But Fitz loves it so much that we may just keep the velour pair for our three schnoodle boys to call their own. I mean, next to a Velvet Elvis, what could be more of a conversation piece in a home filled with a blend of modern, farmhouse, and antique furnishings? What I noticed about the chair, though, was the variegated colors and the way the light played with the fibers and Fitz’s coloring. Immediately, I envisioned an old painter with an easel, painting a still life of a beloved family dog.
It was my picture to share in the group text.
Dad sent it to a painter friend named Carol to see if it could become an affordable masterpiece. She replied that it was compelling, and that she was glad to receive the photo – – that it will become a master watercolor.
I urged them to note the crossed front legs, showing a recent shave for a dental cleaning, the basking in sheer comfort, the deep reflective thought and philosophical consideration, the way the light plays with the wisdom of old age.
I hadn’t woken on Saturday thinking that Fitz, in a moment of silent reflection, would become the subject of a still life.
But here we are, rocking the reflective moments of life.
note the front legs crossed on the armchair
philosophical reflection
the way the light plays with age
salt and pepper mixed hues
he needs a top hat
and an old pipe
and a lap
to call
home
As the day wore on, I took a few more photos to continue the theme of the day, but the brown velour backdrop on the first pose was the best Fitz shot I was able to capture.
‘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
it became a game of cat and mouse
now who’s chasing, now who’s running?
who’s including, who’s snubbing?
who’s manipulating,
orchestrating now?
nobody knows
all sight lost,
reason
gone
We hadn’t expected a wren’s nest
built in our camping dog kennel
in the back of the pickup
but it was there, with eggs
we hatched our own plan
substituting
table for
pickup
truck
woodcutters will be here in one month
evicting our birds from their homes
they were scheduled for April
I’m scheduled for heartbreak
I asked for “not spring!”
nestling killings
are not an
option
here
Boo’s got that human look in his eyes
the kind people give as eye rolls
stare-down between dog and man
are you being for real?
I’m gon’ ignore that!
you’re joking, right??
go away!
I’m done.
Shoo!
****
oh,
but then
Boo Radley
steals my chair, begs
me to sit with him
to assure him that his
world is on its right axis
that he is the favorite dog
begs my forgiveness for his Boo shoos
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
If you’ve never rolled a set of Taylor Mali’s Metaphor Dice, take note: they’re one of the best ways to make poetry accessible for reluctant writers. The red dice are nouns (conceptual, most), white are adjectives, and blue are nouns that represent the direct comparison to the red dice. I rolled the dice:
Naysay Nonet
the truth is a back-handed mirror
because once you say to someone
to prove your argument's point
that they should have called you
you can't turn around
and not have called
them when you
should have
called
A Thursday Nonet
The world thinks they were abandoned by
their guide boat in shark-infested
waters, but the truth is that
another boat came for
the honeymooners,
swept them away
to a new
better
life
Common Threads 