The Worms

I checked daily for 

weeks on our baby wrens

in the garage

on the old desk

destined for Goodwill

but when I got

home from work

the nest was destroyed

pulled into the yard

a broken candelabra

shattered on the 

concrete floor beneath

something got our babies

probably the feral cat

the black one that

comes in at night

trips the light 

prowls around on the hunt

I tiptoe sometimes

down the hall to watch it

in its silent quest for a 

field mouse

something found these

baby wrens I’d 

eagerly spied on

from eggs to

nestlings, almost

fledglings,

their tiny mouths

opening for worms

at the slightest 

bump or noise

in nature’s cruel twist

they became

the worms

Rest in peace, little ones.

The Tick

At 3:54 a.m. 

I felt it~

the sting itch

of a bite

on my insole

I fumbled for

the itch cream

back in bed

couldn’t sleep

4:17 I felt the

critter urgently

scrambling 

Along the back

Of my shoulder

Up my neck

Behind my ear

To my hairline

Where my fingers

Found it,

Pinched all 

The way to the

Sink, released it

To see a lone star

Tick scaling the basin

I turned on the water

Chased it down the

Drain, pulled the stopper

And filled the sink 

But still felt the

Crawly itch as I 

Lay back down

on my eyebrow,

under my armpits

in the fold of my ear

even my clavicle 

itched ~

(they don’t 

make

clavicle itch cream)

Photo by Erik Karits on Pexels.com

Something Fast and Dangerous

Photo by Frans van Heerden on Pexels.com

it all happened so fast

thirty yards to our left

in the woods

along the edge of the driveway

in the rural countryside

in the early morning

where anything is possible

where most won’t walk without

a wildlife safety gun

** (but I do) **

as I was walking the dogs

a rustling of underbrush

and a flash

something fast and dangerous

*** (not a deer) ***

running through the trees

me in my work heels

in sudden panic

my sled dog team kicked into

high gear

jolting me into a

sprint

holding on tight

praying whatever it was

would keep going the other way

*** (it did) ***

making me wonder:

is it time for a wildlife gun

or at least a fire extinguisher?

On My First Day of Summer

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It’s already as hot as August

in Mid-June, the kind of heat that

makes you wonder how we all

don’t cook to hardened arms and

faces like a pig on a spit

and why dogs don’t all

wear shoes on their feet

to go anywhere

and just exactly how people

without air conditioning lived

ages ago and whether frying

ice cream should be legal.

Open Write June Day 5 with Jessica Wiley/ Day 155 of The Stafford Challenge

Today marks 155 days that those in The Stafford Challenge began a yearlong quest to write one poem each day for a whole year. Last night, we celebrated with poet Jessica Jacobs of North Carolina via Zoom, listening to her share her writing retreat to the desert of Arizona as she wrote about the art of Georgia O’Keefe. When writing group days intersect, it’s always interesting to see how several ideas can combine into one poem and fit in all of the spaces.

Jessica Wiley is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the final day of June’s Open Write for 2024. She inspires us to write poems by taking the spines of books and using them as lines. You can read her full prompt here.

My Reading Life

Life’s Greatest Treasure

Big Magic

Some Much-Loved Poems

Bear in the Back Seat

An Unexpected Guest

Living with Haints

Dead Uncles

Slice of Life and Open Write June Day 4 with Anna Roseboro

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…….

Photo by Athena Sandrini on Pexels.com

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

Open Write June Day 3 with Susan Ahlbrand

Susan Ahlbrand is our host today for the third day of the June Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems about graduation. You can read her full prompt here. I’ve chosen a nonet, a nine-line syllabic countdown poem.

Photo by Rodion Kutsaiev on Pexels.com

Graduation Nonet

Teachers all worried about airhorns

beach balls should have been their concern

we learned how to inflate them

under our gowns, then how

to launch them at once

on secret cue

skyward dreams

island

style

Open Write June Day 2 with Margaret Simon – Duplex Poems

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Margaret Simon of New Iberia, Louisiana is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 2 of the June Open Write. You can read her full prompt here. Margaret inspires us to write Duplex poems in the style of Jericho Brown, using this process:

A duplex poem is 14 lines, 7 couplets, 9-11 syllables per line. 

The second line from each stanza repeats as a first line for the next stanza. 

The first line is echoed back in the last line. 

My poem is inspired by a daughter’s new puppy, a dappled Dachshund named Jackson (after Jackson Pollock, for his spots). I used the Duplex form and thought of one of his famous paintings entitled Convergence and how his abstract art reminds me of things – – like these catastrophic chicken tacos that have no business being served in a shell that is only going to break and create food art under the first bite. Photo of Jackson below.

Catastrophic Chicken Tacos

catastrophic chicken tacos happen

always at lunch on taco Tuesdays

always at lunch on taco Tuesdays

shells break, insides spill onto the plate

shells break, insides spill on to the plate

revealing shredded lettuce, tomatoes, chicken

revealing shredded lettuce, tomatoes, chicken

all my cheese splatters broken taco art

all my cheese splatters broken taco art

like a Jackson Pollock painting: Convergence

like a Jackson Pollock painting: Convergence

a speckled canvas of confetti’ed food

a speckled canvas of confetti’ed food

catastrophic chicken tacos happen

Welcome to the family, dappled Jackson Pollock dachshund! May you paint the world with smiles and laughter and joy and leave your paw prints on every heart you meet!

Open Write June Day 1 with Sarah Donovan at www.ethicalela.com in the style of June Jordan

Photo by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto on Pexels.com

For Day 1 of the June Open Write, Dr. Sarah J. Donovan of Stillwater, Oklahoma invites us to write poetry using the mentor poet June Jordan’s poetry. You can read Sarah’s full prompt here.

Now This

these nights
they are
hormonal hot
flash hell ~
flapping bedbirds
fluffing sheets
sleeplessly
in all the heat
and rumble
of the dark

these nightmares
they rage in ~
nocturnal carnage
at the screaming
speed of melatonin
on the yellow
eyes of a
Great Horned
Owl in a
trembling tree hollow

these scarecrows
they lurk now
in apocalyptic meadows
where as children
we found
peaceful slumber
we called
sweet dreams ~
all those sugarplums
that once danced
in our heads

~ now this