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Suburban Day

Roofers crawl atop
Peaks, hammering, mad woodpeckers shingle seeking.
The mail truck speeds by, cornering sharply, brakes squealing,
At each box, shoving letters inside, slamming metal doors, before roaring on.

Dogs bark incessantly
One yard over, behind rail fencing,
At the cat, sitting without care, on green grass,
He yawns bored and stalks away, driving the dogs into howling frenzy.

Mom pushes baby
In a stroller, getting in steps,
Talking, cellphone to ear, as they lap the block.
He solemnly watches the houses pass, dropping his bottle secretly, wicked chortle erupting.

Retiree, trimmer wielding,
Edges the verge neatly around concrete.
Wonders why he left his job for this pastoral.
He sighs, checks the mailbox, heads inside, beer and baseball lie ahead.
MEOWMMY’s Three Angel Cats

Last Wednesday
Driving home from writing
I came up to the light on Plainfield at Target.
A silver van was stopped ahead of me.
On the back window was a mom and dad cling
In spacesuits
A license plate that read MEOWMMY.

And then

Three cat clings with angels wings.

And then

Ten!  Cat clings without wings
It made me wonder
Kittens?
Had they adopted a litter?
Collectors?
Hanging out at the Scratching Post too much?

Were they all the same?
Calicos?  Tabbies?  Boys or girls?
How many cat boxes did they have?

That brought me back to the three winged cats.
Had they been ancient and passed gracefully?
Or did they simply give up their remaining eight lives
Due to too much feline company?

 

 

NaPoWriMo April 4

3-6-9-12 pattern poem

Impending Storm on Patio

Sky grows purple.
Like a deep, painful, muscle bruise.
Must have fallen down the stairs but when? bruise.
Thunder throbs in the distance; I write faster before the storm hits.

Birds fall silent.
The heavy air is still, waiting.
A single warning note rings from the wavering chimes.
Suddenly, golden light flares below the lowering cloud deck in the west.

Thunder rumbles, growling.
The neighbor calls her kids inside.
Instantly, silver rain sheets down two streets over.
Blasting wind bends the fragile saplings; green leaves torn by driving drops.

I flee inside.
The rain drums against the glass.
Lightning splits dark clouds, thunder booms like cannon fire.
The storm passes, settling into a gentle, steady rain, waking spring flowers.

 

NaPoWriMo April 3

For Trent, A Student Interviewed

I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.
I’ll study hard; I have a need.
Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.

Although I help, he just gets worse.
I help him dress, and for other needs.
I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.

His smile is strained; his words are terse.
His once neat garden is all now weed.
Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.

To help him out is my rule first.
Forgetting fun and friends, I cede.
I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.

The course is hard; the labs are worse.
I swear I will achieve this deed.
For, Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.

No matter what, it all gets worse.
To help him and others is my creed.
Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.
So I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.

Another villanelle

With a Nod to Tolkien Reading Day

The road goes ever on and so
I follow down the winding trail,
And I have miles and miles to go.

The wind blows fierce; the clouds are low.
Rain falls from the sky—and now comes hail!
The road goes ever on and so.

Continue on by streams that flow.
Footsore.  So lost! Over hill, through dale.
Still I have miles and miles to go.

Through new-ploughed fields where farmers sow.
Past laden orchards and lakes with sail,
My road goes ever on and so.

Miles pass by; no rest I know.
The day ends, but not my tale.
For I have miles and miles to go.

Guided by the archer’s bow
All through the night, into dawn’s pale
Still I have miles and miles to go
Because the road goes ever on and so!

 

NaPoWriMo April 1

This is a villanelle.

Morning Garden

I raised a glass of ruby wine,
In toast of each plant, bush, and tree.
To all, I think, it was a sign.

That garden life was truly kind
From nibbling hares to buzzing bees.
So, I raised a glass of ruby wine.

A cheer to all!  To none malign!
Applause arose from lawn and tree.
To all, I think, it was a sign.

On this fine morn by dew refined,
Peace contained in all I see.
To this I raise my ruby wine.

Peace out here was blessing mine.
Quiet and harmony was my plea.
I believe to all it was a sign.

Each one and all, we live as kine
Their warmth and sun surrounding me.
To all, I thank!  It was a sign.
So I raised my glass of ruby wine.

NaPoWriMo

April is national poetry month, and although I am no poet (and I know it), I shall be posting a poem a day!

First one is a paint chip poem.  The Idea is to steal a few of those paint chip strips from Lowes, find one with exotic color names that inspires you, and include the paint names in your poetry lines.  I chose a blue-green strip to begin.

Diss-Harmony Blue Birds                                                                             Paint Chip Poetry

In the pale dawn of a frosty day, a hallowed hush fell

Over a lake-Swan Lake-afloat with early arrival fowl, perturbed by unpredictable spring.

Bobbing in the cold, they dream of a tropical holiday.

A warm pond singing with frogs, as water burbled from an artesian well.

Their flying vee gold-lit, summer sun setting on the azure tide rolling out.

As they dream of that warm romantic isle, the lake birds shiver.

 

Chuck has been cheerleading for this new Fresh Thyme store that has been opened near his office.  Has he been there?  No. Has he ever been to one of these organically grown, no bug spray, healthier than a vegetable has a right to be places?  Nope!  But we keep getting fliers in the Sunday, yes real print, paper.  (I figure I have some landfill space owed me for my paper and kcups since I am not adding to the exploding diaper hazard.). So, today, after getting my tooth glued back on, I found the closest one and went on an adventure.

The location is actually where my old, favorite Don Pablo’s was.  Which is now a BW3…sad.  Parking lot was pretty empty.  I guess healthy folks aren’t shopping at ten…or they were all across the street at Kroger’s.  They seemed to all be across the street at Kroger’s…

Inside (I was so pleased with myself!  I remember to dig one of my reusable shopping bags out of the trunk of my car.) was the usual rows of dried fruits, veggies, meats, rocks in plastic containers…there were also silos of granola and numerous flavored peas.  There was a mini bakery area with “whole grain” cookies (they had samples…firm, dense, granular…not sure there was any sugar or flour or chocolate in them).  And on the shelf, various flat and pita breads and loaves of AUNT MILLIE’S white (hey, isn’t that a Kroger brand?).

The produce section was pleasantly surprising.  I bought mushroom caps, tomatoes, a cuke, lemons, red onions, and two avocados.  Everything was fresh-looking and non-buggy.  I cruised the beer and wine aisle.  No Mich Ultra.  The wines were touted as organic and gluten-free…didn’t know there was wheat in wine ever.  And Barefoot Moscato, which is what I drink, can be had for $4.99 a bottle, not $7.99.  No purchase there.

About one fourth of the floor space is devoted holistic vitamins and cures, poultices and juju.  Feeling no need to exorcise demons even though I have been coloring mandelas, I opted for the check out.

So, I was out the door, with $21 of groceries, mainly produce.  Not sure if I’ll return…but it was an adventure.