Where do the words go
when they slip through the cracks
of my mental filing cabinet?
And where is recognition
when they reappear
no longer categorized
or referenced –
out of alphabetical order –
not even an inkling of recall
as if our acquaintance is
akin to discovery?
(The Daily Prompt is inkling.)
Can we talk? said he
chest burdened,
bursting to confess
It’s about our living
situation, you see…
well, maybe you don’t
It’s just that, I have
noticed things are
getting out of hand
and I know you try
hard, and all, but
I’m having trouble
seeing, and I thought,
well, wondered if,
maybe we could…
Whatever are you
rambling on about?
she snapped, clearly
disgruntled; get to
the point – she wasn’t
listening, mind fixed on
task at hand – needed
to find a solution to
growing dissatisfaction
could not longer tolerate
the hellish conditions
of their cesspool lives
to be perfectly candid
she said, we are swimming
around in our own shit
it’s time we moved on!
I couldn’t agree more,
he sighed with relief
content again that he’d
made the right choice
wedding a frank woman.
(The Daily Post prompt is candid. Photo from personal collection)
Young men are pursuing me,
in my dreams, I am too old
and wily not to recognize
the evil of this intent
wonder if I’m being stalked
by a stroke, or worse –
I wake up, overheated
fling the bedclothes off
as if they are the offending
infiltrators, dismayed to see
how little I have slept, knowing
that the relief will now pass me by
Young men possess a virility
redundant in my life – sexuality
long ago sacrificed on the altar of cancer –
their presence is disconcerting at best
stirring up old emotions, luring me
into nostalgic memories – trickery, I say
to think that masculinity would entertain
intimacy with a mad old hag like me.
(The Daily Post prompt:Â entertain.
Image:Â Daily Mail)
Obnoxious, I’ve been called
and overly exuberant, and
“no-one-will-ever-love-you”
usually by spurned lovers
or morose types too afraid
to speak for themselves,
dependent on, but loathing
my social ease – I wore it,
of course, the shame, that is
self-chastised, tried to tone
down, dim my hue, but
yellow is yellow, shines,
finds joy in darkness,
laughter in hard times,
even upside-down, radiates.
Turn away, if you must,
wear shades – I’m done
apologizing for standing out.
What I wouldn’t resort to –
just to get away – meals
prepared by others,
cleaned up, too…
but really, is there
any coming back once
it’s all handed over –
I’d be afraid I’d lose
my identity, come up empty
embarrassed by how little
of value I have to give –
and the guilt would taunt
slap my silly ego, criticize
me for laziness, acting all
privileged; worth is directly
linked to service…isn’t it?
And my shadow self would
appear – just break in uninvited –
and threaten complicity, beat me
down further, hope doomed
no way to justify my absence,
to keep the critics at bay,
I need to work, need to lose
myself in the routine of endless
chatter, a blanket of small talk
to keep me safe – busy noise
to drown out the thieving voices
and help me find myself again.
Don’t take out the garbage
during a black out – alligators
prowl in blackened streets,
lurk curbside waiting
for the unsuspecting –
I’ve seen them,
chasing the pedestrian,
my screams ineffective;
witnessed the brave
returning from the night
disheveled and shaken
Was it the alligator? I ask
with all the compassion
of I-told-you-so.
No, comes the reply,
it’s the tiger
out back.
So much danger
in the dark, please
wait till the lights
come on before
dealing with trash.
(Inspired by a dream and dedicated to my husband who never takes out the garbage the night before pick up.)
Photo from Trip Advisor
Sloth-like she shuffles
each stride an argument
against unwilling muscles,
ignores spasms, lips pursed
in concentration, advances
Cockeyed he totters,
step…hop…step, poker-hot
stabs punctuating his effort
moves swiftly as if to out run
pain, face set in determination
They are out of sync, oddball
awkward sightseers, obstacles
for the fast-moving able-bodies
that whir past unable to fathom
motivation in crooked spines.
The race here is against time,
propelled by insatiable thirst,
they forage for snippets worthy
of hoarding, squirrels readying
for winter’s harsh call, days
when minds still alert will hunger
despite bodies inert, they will
dine on memory, boast about
the daring, reminisce fondly
over adventures hard won.
(The Daily Post prompt is snippet. Hope you enjoyed.)
This ride is not all that it seems to be:
this on-the-road-home, suits two,
carries more – there’s unrest onboard,
and the air crackles with trouble brewing.
Seems we’ve brought along our bad
selves, shadowy figures resembling
adolescents – the in-your-face, life’s
not right, and I-know-it-all types.
There’s insolence in one’s actions,
rebellion in the other, no tolerance
in sight – doors slam, plans alter,
chaos threatens to put us in the ditch.
Until crazy pushes the Done! signal
and we withdraw to our corners,
buckle in for the ride, focus on
pending destinations, happily
embracing anticipation, imbecilities
set aside, preferring to believe that
this adventure is leading us towards,
not running away from, the unexpected.
(Image:Â quotesgram.com)
Never marry a man
who keeps an elephant
as a pet – trust me, I know.
No matter how slick
his explanations, please note:
elephants are not justification
for lapsed commitments, nor
hollow promises – relationships
can’t bear the costly weight of upkeep
no amount of toiling, cooking, or
maternal influence can detract
from the needs of animal outweighing
all other priorities – and don’t expect
sympathy from an elephant keeper’s
mother, she is in on the dupe, prayed
to offload this burden – compassion
fades swiftly in the face of giant-sized
demands, and elephants require feeding
If there’s an elephant in the equation,
I’d say cut the ties and the discourse –
no doubt another fool is waiting in the wings.
(Image: www.theapicalview.com)
Needs, you insolent, little
bastards – interfering
with my independence,
gnawing at these walls
Nasty, you are, and heartless –
pathetic, infantile, cowardly
what part of unwanted
do you not understand?
I am making a stand –
choosing to erect barricades –
a stronghold of invincibility –
quit circling the fortress
your endless chatter
annoying me to distraction –
I will have none of it –
will not tolerate vulnerability
I am strong, singular
do not need sympathy,
empathy, understanding,
nor acknowledgment
I am an island –
self-sufficient and proud –
and your insignificance is a blot
on my otherwise perfect landscape.
(Image: www.dreamstime.com)
One Woman's Quest 