Tag: poem

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The Lunch Tickets

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

we had a third grade

bully who kicked our

shins with her

wooden clogs

and pulled our hair

so we came up

with a plan to

steal her lunch

tickets she

bought on

Mondays for

35 cents each

and turned in for

the count each

day

she was a

child of addiction

poverty without

a mother ~ but a

grandmother

raising her

working hard

to make ends

meet for this

girl, angry at

the world

and not enough

clogs and

shins to fix it

and now

that I see life

from this side

I feel

deep sorrow

for our theft

because we

only hurt

grandma

and our

future

selves

who would

come to

know the

truth

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100-Syllable Book Cover Reveal

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!

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Heat Advisory

we cancelled

camping

for the heat

advisory

so I asked

what we’d do ~

take a tour

of Kroger’s

freezer section?

stand in Sam’s

where they sell

the milk and butter?

take cool comfort

in the movie

theater?

we talked

we discussed

we decided

we bought tickets

to the Immersive Titanic

exhibit in Atlanta

we’ll wear jackets

and talk through

chattering teeth

counting the minutes

back to the heat

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Tsundoku Tricube

Tsundoku,

I tell you!

‘s what I do

you know who

runs this zoo

not too few

‘s nothing new

my books were

overdue

A tribe is a poem with three stanzas, each with three lines, each with three syllables

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Dreamland B&B

his wife has auburn curls

and never enough

cookbooks

he owns a farmland B&B

with steps down

into the kitchen

where he’s made cinnamon

rolls early

strong coffee

leading the way

kitchenward

where we ponder

all the possibilities

of the day

without

deadlines

we sip on

our own

schedule

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Death Scream

outside at 10 pm

with the dogs

a death cry fight

came from the

woods 50

yards out

we all froze

stood motionless

paralyzed with fear

already mourning

something

something fought

something died

in the woods

we think it was

an owl attacking

another feral cat

the terror of the

forest at night

is every fairy tale

illustration of the

dark side that

traumatized childhood

into needing

another glass of water

our woods are

where we live

and sleep

stuck in the pages

of no happily

ever after for

our wildlife

after YouTube

church we’ll take

the tractor to

the crime scene

we, the detectives

of the dark forest

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Piddling

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