Wrap around porch with hanging swing
iced tea chats and potted plants
playing dolls with Junie Z
on a summer night lit by fireflies.
Sliding glass door shut ramrod tight
concrete slab with charcoal grill
removed from prying eyes.
Two steps to double locked doors
reined in yard with triple garage
and wooden horse blinder fence.
The word neighbor? Gone.
It hopped a moving van,
took a right on the expressway
and drove right out of our lexicon.
Sample the edibles
while sauntering by a vendors’ stall
savor the sour and the sweet
lemon tarts with a marzipan carrot beside
devour her lover’s kisses by night
and wake up to humorous tidbits
and some evenings, dine by candle light
lick beads of moisture
from her wine glass
while supping alfresco by the sea.
She fancied herself a chef
stirring the pot
and turning up the heat
if it simmered too low.
Written for Margo’s Poem Tryouts, which I recently found thanks to Chalk Hills Journal, a wonderful blog. Margo asked that we find highly-descriptive words relating to a ‘simple’ subject, make a list of those, and then write to those words. I chose the “simple” subject of eating. Photo taken this past summer on the deck in Provincetown….indeed, eating alfresco!
She
Was
Fancy
LoverOf
AllThings
ThatSparkle
RubyRedLips
&GemClips
&Golden
Nails
&Tu
Tus
WP Writing 201: Second version of a concrete poem using a diamond (which is otherwise known as cold ice; cold being the word for the day)and anaphora (repetition of a word in beginning lines of verse). First diamond shaped poem of the day for this assignment was Diamond in the Rough....previous post today. Take a look there too!
House ready
spit-shine clean
bathrooms gleam
mirrors spotless
fridge full
door bell rings
and here we go!
Door slams shut
rugs askew
table strewn
bread crust strips
on juicy sticky countertops
legos here and there
quiet echoes everywhere.
Photo by Andrea Kratzenberg.
There once was a gnat who hungered for gees.
He nawed and he nashed on narly young trees.
The nome, his old friend
warned the gnu round the bend,
he’s coming, use Deet, as fast as you please!
In limerick style:
3 long and 2 short lines, aabba rhyme.
We walk, you in front of me
one created flesh and bone
the other born of sun
elongated faceless gray.
Seamlessly
we stroll the beach
arms out wide, now close in
darkness plays with light.
I stop you stop
your head turns as mine.
We follow a gull’s flight
rising from the sea.
If I turn, reverse my course
will you dance behind,
like the kite that zigs and zags
when its master loosens hold?
Revised, revisited from a very early post. How I love Cape Cod and playing with my shadow!
There it was. Audition.
Wanted: 100 dancers
for three months prep
to perform in Boston’s Copley Square.
No experience required.
I did the same thing,
twenty years ago
in Iowa.
Auditioned.
And was selected to perform.
Ninety-nine hoofer-wanna-bees
plus Gene Kelly and me.
Thousands watched us
in the Big-Ten half-time show
or took a trip for hotdogs
and the john.
So I did it. Again.
And made it.
Again.
Ninety-nine plus me
two nights every week.
Loud fast rehearsals
with slow
every day repeats
at home
to video
online.
I should have known.
I was twenty years older
not newer
and certainly not digital.
One month to go.
On our burgundy shag carpet
five-six-seven-eight
and again
right-turn-slide-spin.
Repeat at studio
on unforgiving wooden floor.
Five-six-seven-eight……
Crap.……dancer down.
Legs sag. Muscles be damned.
Relegated to RICE.
Rest-Ice-Compression-and-
– – oh hell. I forget
what the E stands for.
Originally posted on March 23, as Self-Portrait: Dancer Down, just my third post ever….revisited and revised. No Likes then, no comments, two followers (my family members)!
….and she looked at me
frustration in her eyes
anger on her lips
and screamed sooo loud:
Can’t you just somehow,
get all your ducks in a row?
I know, I know. The picture is of geese. But eider way ~ the scene on the Charles and the pun ~ make me smile! Just havin’ a little fun this AM with my morning cup of coffee….enjoy your day 🙂
Breeze whisper-whistles through window
lids struggle with sand-grit eye corners
brain muddled like dislodged silt
no sun, energy slogs, slowly moves
gives in, gives up, covers over
it’s a turtle kind of day.
Pull down pale green husks
some easily, others with a yank
discover soft fine silken hair,
gossamer strands cling to yellow gems
kernels of sweetness
in perfect rows of delicious.
Assaulted by bubbling water
slathered in butter
ear by ear, cob by cob
they succumb to energetic chomping
sacrificial sustenance
for the Summer Devourer.
lillian the home poet 