I think . . .
no, I’m sure . . .
I think I’m sure . . .
he’s the one.
Yes, he’s the one.
But . . .
if I could somehow . . .
magically . . .
meander into my future . . .
will he be there?

I think . . .
no, I’m sure . . .
I think I’m sure . . .
he’s the one.
Yes, he’s the one.
But . . .
if I could somehow . . .
magically . . .
meander into my future . . .
will he be there?

Perfectly happy
in her narrow galley kitchen,
she planed to outgrow it.
The oversized refrigerator
became her gallery of sorts.
Photos of him taped to the door,
ultimately yanked off in anger
before the catsup was even gone.
New boys appeared and disappeared,
friends she planned to feed into lovers.
Time emptied the tape dispenser.
No boys, just gummy residue.
So she walked in the rain one day
going store to store, on a magnet spree.
Colorful dots. Hearts. Fanciful sayings.
Two bright rainbows.
And one empty royal blue photo frame
she stuck on the far-right upper corner
of the freezer door.
She was, after all, an optimist
through and through.
I’m hosting dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Tuesday Poetics and I’m asking folks to walk into their kitchen and peruse their refrigerator! Look inside. Look at the outside. What do you see that strikes your imagination that can be a jumping off point for a poem! Describe an object or use it somehow in a poem. Our refrigerator doors have always been a “gallery” of sorts with magnets and photos and sayings. So, looking at ours, I made up a young woman who uses her refrigerator door in somewhat the same way.
Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come visit and chill out with us today!
Hope-si-diddly-do
sing a song of happiness.
Care and love shall spin their bliss
hope-si-doodly-do.
Hope-si-diddly-do
dawn shines new, more brightly too
when all join hands and share the light
hope-si-doodly-do.
Hope-si-diddly-do
sing a song of happiness.
Make our world a kinder place
singing do-good-diddly-do.
My granddaughter, Marika, age 9, made up a tune for this and sings it in the video below.
Sung by Marika, age 9 (my grandaughter). A quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De is giving us the prompt word, “hope.”
I’ve also posted another poem which uses all 42 words (including hope) in this quadrille series: Film Noir Take 42.
My writing spills out from a deep cistern of life’s experience. Sometimes a bit dank and dark as the pen dips deeper. But never from the despair of a void.
I am a doer. A make-your-own-sunshine-on-a-grey-soupy-day kind of gal. Cheerleader-tap-dance vigor still runs through my veins. Lean machine, gone somewhat dumpy with the addition of an old age belly, I choose to look up and out, not down. My daughter once said to me, “Mom, every movie can’t be the Sound of Music!” But I do choose the channel, right? Write.
sunflowers smile at me
sheets flap and furl on clothes line
summer of my mind
It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Toni, our haibun queen, asks us to write about why we write the way we do. Who are we and how does that come out in our writing? My readers will have to decide if they think I’ve nailed this assignment. 🙂
These are two of my all-time favorite photos from Provincetown at the tip of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. We’re in the second week of our annual two weeks here. Even on grey and foggy days, there is a soft beauty to this place! Hmmmm sounds like my haibun! Haibun: a paragraph or two of tightly written prose (cannot be fiction) followed by a haiku. A haiku true to Japanese form, always includes a seasonal word. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Harrumph.
Abbracadabra . . .
Hurrah!

Palindrome: word that is the same, spelled forwards and backwards as in mom, wow, and hah! Also a four-way acrostic for dVerse. An acrostic contains a hidden word within the poem, usually spelled out from top to bottom within the first letter of each line. In this short short poem, read first letters of each line from top to bottom, or from bottom to top; and read the last letters of each line from top to bottom, or from bottom to top, and you get the same word! And the message/meaning is that sometimes, magically, a person’s personality can change😊
She fancied herself a sun goddess
gathering warm rays
sending smiles out to the world.

Photo credit: good friend, Marie Mumford
Weekend bliss
nothing amiss.
Plenty of sunshine
my honey
and me.

Outside, an evening still-life
city sounds gone.
Color wheel spun to day’s end,
the stuff of coloratura
no more.
Within the darkness,
a multiplicity of light.
Tree leaves
individual by day
morphed imperceptible,
indistinct within their larger shape.
Lunar glow, specks of bright,
office window flickers,
shadows in grays.
Not black or white.
No monochrome this.
Softened lines and curves.
Milky illumination
blending into hazy ebony.
Outside my window,
a continuum of grace.
My urban amen
as I slip into sleep.

We’re Looking Out/Looking In at dVerse today. I’m hosting Tuesday’s Poetics and asking everyone to consider the windows in their apartment/home. They can either look in or look out; look at the view or the window itself. And then write a poem that somehow deals with that window, metaphorically or in reality (poetic license allowed, of course!). Each writer is to do two things: 1) post the photo of their window or view from their window; and 2) write a poem motivated by that photo, using the word “window” in either the title or text of the poem. And by the way, dVerse just celebrated their 6th anniversary yesterday!! dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM Boston time today. Come on over and post your “view” and/or just take a peek with us! All are welcome!
banana popsicle me
sticky fingers and chin
hopscotch me
chalked up sidewalk
and banged up knees
fireflies me
off and on orbs
in my back yard
beach me
squiggly toes
in wet rippled sand
remembering
sweet days of youth.
