Cherish the Memories

O Tannenbaum,
holding warm memories.
Mother’s eggshell thin glass pink bell,
father’s fragile airplane ornament,
each almost one-hundred years old.
Brother’s handmade Santa
with sparse cotton beard,
seventy-seven years old.
Family long departed from earth,
always here this beautiful season,
illuminated on my tree.


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe, where today Lisa asks us to write a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, that includes the word “warm” – or a form of the word.

Yes, our Christmas tree is up! And always hung first on the tree, are my three most precious and fragile ornaments: the pink bell was given to my mother’s parents when she was born; the airplane was given to my father when he was about five; and my brother made this Santa Claus when he was in first grade. He was nine years older than me and tragically died of a massive heart attack at age fifty-one – before either of my parents died. All three have been gone for many years. I always hold my breath when I open the box to see if these ornaments have made it to another year. Many other meaningful ornaments on our tree – I actually call it our memory tree. The Unicorn marionette was made by my daughter when she was eight, forty years ago. The orange giraffe with white bird on its head, to the right of the unicorn, was a wooden piece from the mobile that hung on my children’s crib: daughter now forty-eight and son now forty-six. There’s a traditional red ball ornament that has Lillian printed every-so-neatly on it, made by Mrs. Boomer, my first grade teacher. I’m now seventy-five. And so it goes. That’s a cream-colored garland I crocheted many many years ago. I love putting up my tree.

Hushhhhh . . .

. . . shadow me to sleep.
Hush headlines, past regrets,
and lists of tasks undone.
Toss full moon behind gathering clouds.
Snuff stars until dust drips silently
crusting my eyes.
Sink me into primordial seas,
ombréd in shades of grey
that I might rest in peace.

Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sarah asks us to include the word “sleep” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

Photos taken last night from our deck here in Provincetown, as the moon was rising. That’s my husband’s hand. Unfortunately, it did indeed totally cloud over and we never saw the eclipse or infamous blood moon….but this was an amazing sight as well.

Are you with me?

Dump the pointy-eared pixie!
I may be tinsel-tipsy,
but what’s with that guy?
Elf on a Shelf, the supreme tattler.
Old St. Nick sure didn’t hire him.
Why cultivate fear in a kid’s heart
when Rudolph’s coming to town?
Unconditional love,
so much better!

A quadrille written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish asks us to use the word tinsel, or a form of the word (not a synonym) in a poem of exactly 44 words. Photo by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash
Elf on a Shelf is a product predominately sold in the U.S. Parents can set the elf out and move it about the house every night when the children go to bed so it seems like the elf is alive. The children then hunt for the elf the next morning. The real purpose of the elf is to spy on the children and make sure they’re being good so Santa will come on Christmas morning! Parents actually tell the children they must be good or the elf will let Santa know they’re on the naughty list! I’ve never liked this idea – no offense to anyone reading this who uses it during the Christmas season. Just my opinion.

Oh those Oldies . . .

Play me that jukebox, baby,
you know the buttons to push.
Hit Marvin, cuz we know
you want to get it on with me.
I know, you can’t stop loving me.
Push the Ray button, honey.
Hold me real close.
Maybe I’ll be tempted.

dVerse is back after our two week summer hiatus! Written for dVerse’s Quadrille prompt which must use the word “juke” or a form of the word, within a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe, opens at 3 PM Boston time! Come join us!
PS: I remember going on high school dates to get a burger and cherry coke, and plugging quarters in the jukebox, picking out our favorite songs.


h