Patchwork Prose and Verse
I was mad since you
were late so I fed turtles
all your marshmallows
no roasting for you
our discussion was our campfire
spark, flame, sizzle, blaze
they smiled and thanked me
reminded me to tell you
to keep slowing down.
Invitation
I was once
invited to a
wedding
but I saw
the truth
of that
invitation
and
declined
without hesitation
without gift
without regret
without excuse
Fran Haley of North Carolina is our host for Day 29 of #VerseLove, inspiring us to write Heart Map poems. You can read her full prompt here.
Fran explains that author Georgia Heard created Heart Maps to help younger students find their own meaningful stories. She encourages us to brainstorm “first times” in our own lives – or last times.
The Last Time
The last time I came home
before you died you
stood feebly
in the door
cold rushing in
against your
flannel pajamas
swallowing you
life leaving your body
escaping you
your voice
deep and low
sunk to the bottom
of your being
a soul cry of despair
saying my name
Kim
proving you knew me
there at the bitter end
unlike the times before
your trembling arms
reaching for me
I reeled at
the change in you
in only a few days
and held you up
while we cried
both knowing
this would be
our last
standing hug
our last
cry together
our final
goodbye
before you
slipped away
I watched you die
Denise Krebs of California is our host today for #VerseLove2024. She inspires us to write List Poems. You can read her full prompt here. I’ve added some pictures, just for fun – – a quick glimpse of our wedding weekend on St. Simons Island, Georgia, where my brother Ken and his bride Jennifer were wed on Saturday afternoon. Narrowing it down to the top ten – – that was a tough challenge!
I love a list poem because it doesn’t have to rhyme, it can be random, and it can be completely out of order or it can run in a countdown fashion to the top of the list. Mine is random, and it’s a photographic prose list poem, a blend of all my favorite kinds. I could not pick a single favorite moment.
Top 10 Wedding Weekend Moments
Straight-from-the-soul smiles on my brother and his bride’s faces, so full of happiness and love,
meeting my brother’s new family and feeling both sides merge into one big family,
getting a new sister-in-law,
placing flowers on the altar in memory of our mothers,
seeing the shoes of my son and husband and feeling them lift me up when I fell,
watching the dads dance – one with a cane, one with bionic knees, but believe it: these two can groove,
watching my brother watch the love of his life come down the aisle,
spending time with extended family and close family (5 of our 6 grandchildren),
figuring out how to win the dinner bill argument with my son since I own nearly one million shares of Shiba Inu (only worth about $25.00 total at .00002 a share, but hey – – it worked),
playing and having a picnic in the parks and hearing my 5 year old grandson’s response when I tried to tell him my ice cream was mashed potatoes and he took the folded arm stance and firmly stated, “that’s impossible!” (they all got ice cream).
Today, Jennifer Jowett of Michigan is our host at http://www.ethicalela.com for our fourth day of #VerseLove 2024. She offers a spectacular Alphabeticals prompt, using letters of the alphabet to create a poem. You can read her full prompt and the poems of others here.
My mind went straight to the farm as I looked at the letters on the keyboard. There’s a whole world of things to see if you let your eyes see what is held in each letter. Donkeys belonging to someone in our area keep getting loose, and my sister in law and I helped some other neighbors for two hours on Tuesday trying to trailer them, finally herding them into another neighbor’s fenced pasture. When they turned up in her yard again Wednesday, we decided to just make friends with them – they’re not halter trained, and we think they are lonely and seeking the companionship of humans.
They know they’ve found folks who are friendly. They’d rather live here on the Funny Farm, where things are amusingly quirky.
RELAXing on the Funny Farm
R hangs out in the
barn, his back against the wall
relaxing cowboy
E stalls two horses
or goats or donkeys or mules
safe from elements
L stands firm, holds reins
hitching post for keeping us
right where we belong
A swing for sweethearts
porch side sunset views, sweet tea
two-strawed Mason jar
X makes a manger
to feed all of God’s creatures
I was three minutes late to work one day last week because I was chasing the sunrise. If you’ve ever been on the backside of nowhere in the rural Georgia countryside between 7:45 and 8:00 just after the time springs forward, you’ve seen it: the most gorgeous glowing coral red sunrise ever, so rich and fiery it could be an over-easy orange yolk of a just-laid Buff Orpington egg, the kind still warm upon cracking into the pan, the kind that mesmerizes folks who’ve never seen a yolk so unhormonally free-ranging fresh, that didn’t come from a carton in a store.
Sometimes that egg yolk sun’ll be right in front of you, as it is when it’s waiting for me like a dog who wants to play chase, right at the end of my eastside driveway first thing in the morning on my way to work. Then, it’s like I’ve tossed it a stick. It takes off to the left when I turn south, then stays left when I head back east, only a little lefter than before. At the stop sign, it’s still left, just not as behindish, and then when I turn back to the south right before I turn back east again, I’m approaching what I know is THE MOST beautiful sunrise ribbon of roadway in the entire county and maybe all of Georgia, maybe even all of the southeastern United States or the world or the universe.
And sometimes I slow waaaaaaay down just to take it all in, if there’s nobody behind me.
How to Chase a Sunrise
I was late for work
watching the sun dance
she curtseys
through the countryside
a morning meringue
of slide-stepping
just over the next hill, to
do-si-do the meadows
pirouetting periwinkle pasture
just around the next bend
then
stopping to spin
like a
March Madness
basketball
on the courthouse
clock steeple
reminding me I'm late
that's how
you chase a
glorious
countryside
sun
e
s
i
r
#messages in the madness
The melatonin was working fine, just fine, I thought, but I figured either we had a rogue sound machine with broken buttons or that one of the machines was possessed. I kept hearing things, but my husband didn’t. Just like when the car starts making a sound, only not a car but a tiny little white noise machine.
So finally, finally – – he in his melatoninlessness began hearing mysterious sounds, too. I didn’t know whether to cry, be scared, or celebrate.
If your children tell you they hear funny voices at night, believe them and check the sound machine. They’re in there.
our old fan broke
but our new fan was too quiet
(they don't make 'em like they used to)
so
we bought a second
sound machine
the kind for babies
with the white noise
so we can both sleep
if one of us is traveling
but now I’m hearing
what he
can’t make out
in all the white noise
in this Sound Spa machine
we both hear
all the usual things: rain, thunder, waves
crashing, crickets chirping, owls hooting
but I roll over half asleep
and I hear
these:
computer printer printing
washing machine
pulsing monitor
injured animal
Moaning Myrtle
steel drums
robot sirens
Amazon notifications
vintage typewriter return dings
disco beats
messages in the machine
heard by one unpillowed ear
I'm afraid next I'll hear a murder
or a confession
or a ghost of a soldier who stood where I now sleep
looking for his lost buttons
and his lost love
no sleeping here
A week ago, Lainie Levin posted an announcement that I wish could be reposted every day. Below, she states that engaging with others is the single most powerful thing that builds community during this challenge.
I emailed her immediately to ask if I could repost this announcement. She readily agreed.
Which brings me to a connection that stopped me in my tracks. I was having a conversation with the Poetry Fox as we were working out the details of his visit to Georgia from North Carolina. I asked him to describe what his events look like, and he told me that he sits at his typewriter and writes on-demand poetry for people who give him a word. He said, “And really, it’s not even about the poem. It’s about the connections I make and the people I get to meet. Those moments of connecting with someone are what it’s all about.”
I’ve thought about this again and again as I have returned to the conversation and the blog announcement and reflected on the power of connection. This community would be nothing without it. I realize that when I wake up during March and get to open the blogging windows and drink my coffee with an entire community and we’re all talking to each other about the slices of our lives and what is happening, there is power in these moments. We may all be tired and worn thin some days, but I know things about you – the people in my community – and I know many of your family members and how you spend time.
I know Paul likes to cook and actually likes Brussels sprouts (I thought I was the only one), Glenda likes to travel and has a voracious appetite for adventure (and will be having quite an adventure today – – I won’t spoil her surprise, but be on the lookout for something uniquely and colorfully …..uplifting)! Denise hikes in the desert and has a stargazer window in her house, Fran watches birds and is teaching her little granddaughters to love them too, Maureen also has two young granddaughters who love music and art and the outdoors, Peter is beginning to grieve the loss of a loved one and many of us are keeping his family close in our thoughts, Barb loves poetry slams and art exhibits and spending time outdoors, Sally checks in on her mom and has a granddaughter with new shoes, Margaret lives on the bayou and has the cutest ducks that jump into the water on jump day, and Joanne loves flowers and gardening. And I’m getting to know each of you, too!
Even though we all live in different places across the nation and beyond, I imagine a high rise brick apartment building where we’re all sitting in an open window chatting, waving, greeting each other at the start of the day, and smiling, rather like we might look from windows on the cover of the New Yorker if someone illustrated all of us in one drawing. We’d see floral window boxes for the green thumbs, cats and dogs with the animal lovers, and food cooking on the stoves of the culinary artists. We’d see children playing with grandmothers and, in a Paul Fleishman Seedfolks-ish kind of way, we’d all be connecting, contributing in beautiful ways to the community vegetable garden and sharing what we have to share, helping as we can, reaching out as we have needs that others can help meet.
Connection. Conversation. Sharing. Caring, Responding in kindness. Giving. Living.
Because that’s what community and connection are all about, and it’s also what writing is about – – reaching the next person. Not the word choice, not the capitalization of proper nouns, and not the run-on sentences (which, like Brussels sprouts, I love, by the way).
Thank you for these marathon days in March where we build our own neighborhood, and the Tuesdays throughout the year where we keep in touch! And to the owners of the Slice of Life apartment building for letting us move in for a month, rent-free, a huge debt of gratitude is owed for all of your hard work in keeping the lights on and the water running.
You each make a difference!
Slice of Life Challenge
Slice of Life Challenge
community connections:
open your windows!
pour a cup of tea
share family recipes
show trip photographs
compare hobby notes
reveal hopes and dreams
share fears and shed tears
open your windows!
connect with fellow writers
plant seeds. water them.
Shelley of Oklahoma is our host today for the final day of the March Open Write, encouraging us to write poems to help us relax. You can read her full prompt here. I have one of those conferences today – the kind in a town with a gas station and a stop sign and maybe a hot dog in the gas station and nothing else, and I’m driving in with coworkers from an hour and seven minutes northeast, and I’m not overnighting so I have to leave early and get home late and I know the coffee’s gonna suck because it always does when they have those plastic canisters of powdered creamer and only pink-packet off-brand sweetener.
But I’m trying to relax.
Really.
Frumpy
Relax - no one cares
whether your pants match your shirt
or that they're wrinkled
Relax - no one cares
that the tops of your feet are
white as unbaked bread
Relax - no one sees
you picking at your fingers
of chipped nail polish
Relax - no one knows
your Odor Eaters are now
expired by three months
Relax - just because
you forgot to tweeze your lip
doesn't mean don't go
After all: you're the
driver....others are counting
on you to get there
Relax - your oil got
changed, your gas tank's full and your
car is vacuumed out
Relax - your riders
might find your car is cleaner
than theirs (not driven)
Relax - wait, is that
.....is that a seam coming out?
It's right on the butt
Nope, don't relax. Go
change pants. Nothing clean? That's what
long sweaters are for.
Heck, grab a blanket
and wrap up like a student
.....relax for a change!
last-minute feels unintentional
for a goal-setting success planner
but I'd love to be spontaneous
retire and travel in an Airstream
for a goal-setting success planner
always checking boxes: Done!
retire and travel in an Airstream?
is there an action plan for that?
always checking boxes: Done!
at the RV show, we sprawled across the bed
is there an action plan for that?
what's my 401K say?
at the RV show, we sprawled across the bed
I'd love to be spontaneous
what's my 401k say?
last-minute feels unintentional
