Crumbs seductively line
Corian countertops –
abundance for flies,
I understand
It’s a trap!
I’d warn, but
buzz is not a language
familiar to my tongue
temper unsuited
to accommodating pests –
we navigate an end
to the ensuing discomfort
fly doomed,
my senses rattled
effort now exerted
to vanquish crumbs.
(Inspired by the daily prompts of Fandango (temper), Daily Addictions (Abundant), and Ragtag (navigate). Thanks for stopping by.)
If searching for love
was like shopping for shoes,
I’d fixate on the simplest
of finds, choosing practicality
over fashion flair.
My preference is for earthy,
unassuming: plain is fine
as long as the structure
gives me room to breath –
no grasping too tight.
If I shopped for love,
like I do for shoes,
I’d ignore those pushy
sales lines, opt instead
for a supportive sole,
settle for guaranteed comfort
over flashy heels, can’t bear
the instability of pedestals,
love flattery like most,
but need to feel grounded.
No doubt I’d question
my selection, offer it up
to my children for feedback
be mocked, dissuaded,
put it back and search anew,
discover futility in my seeking,
realize that I need new love
like I need new shoes –
only a foolish indulgence
for a woman who lives in bed.
(This poem, inspired by a dream, was penned when I was still bed bound, two years ago. Â Hope it made you smile. Â If you found yourself on the hunt for love, what would you look for?
p.s. my husband fits the criteria still, lol.)
Picnicking with mother
happened only once –
The summer’s day
a perfect pitch of bright,
the breeze a welcome companion
Laid our cloth atop rickety table,
perched in anticipation
of waxy wrapped sandwiches
and homemade bread and butter pickles
and the certainty of some fresh-baked treat
Hadn’t taken so much as a single bite
before the buzzing started –
bees inviting themselves to our repast
lured by the sweetness of our fare –
sent mother screaming
commanding us to pack up at once
Never again did we venture
further than our back yard,
reserved the park for drive by visits,
and, if lucky, the occasional
opportunity for a swing or a slide,
as long the bees stayed out of sight.
Welcome to my country,
there’s so much to explore.
We really are a friendly bunch
but there’s a few things we abhor
So, we’ve written specific rules
for our visitors to keep in mind –
above and beyond the expected
these oddities are considered crime.
Please refrain from removing
a band-aid while in a public place,
and it’s more than just offensive
to fart when in another’s space.
Should you happen to encounter
our most coveted royal, the Queen,
avoid startling or scaring her, or
your arrest will cause a scene.
Driving a sleigh down the highway
may seem a ludicrous thing to do,
however; it’s actually acceptable if
your horse sports bells more than two.
Taking your feet off bicycle pedals,
is illegal in Ottawa, our capital town,
and riding through Sudbury with a siren
will elicit more than just a frown.
While sightseeing with your mother
in Toronto – our largest city by far –
no matter how much she provokes you,
save any expletives for inside the car.
Climbing trees, tying laces, and even
painting wooden ladders, all have laws
you’ll need to abide, so next time you’re
in Canada, before you act, give pause.
And for goodness sake, be sure to
visit our beauteous province of B.C. –
but leave your gun at home, for
killing a Sasquatch is illegal, you see.
(The final prompt invites a little humour – to write about strange historical facts or laws. These little known Canadian laws are courtesy of narcity.com)
Warning: Â approach with caution.
Despite the overt friendliness of the individual
bearing this warning label, please note that
should you choose to engage her in conversation
the management cannot be responsible for
helping you disengage.
Initiate dialogue at your own risk.
(Today’s challenge: what would your warning label read?)
Intensity drops in,
early, before I have a chance
to set the day in order –
puts me on the defensive.
She clings, encourages me
to hold on, her sick creativity
awake with impulsivity –
I am ailing, loyal, compelled
to launder the linens,
desperately trying to find corners
in the circular fitted sheet –
dependent on daily chores.
She wants to talk about feelings –
but I am still numbed from sleep,
from this never-ending illness,
from this perfectionist drive for optimism.
She wants to embrace, hug me
into submission, lecture me on the benefits
of organics and loose-leaf teas, and I am
too busy avoiding her to be grateful.
(My chosen prompt for today’s challenge is “circles can’t have corners”)
Listen up!
My words, like children,
need tending to, codling
I can’t just go all willy nilly and let them run amuck
although
they are liking the idea
and what’s that knocking at my door
strange ideas….
oh, this will never do –
I keep a tight ship here –
order and perfection
those are my mottos
the children are getting out of hand
best banish them to the basement
until they calm down, but wait…
there’s sawdust
and garbage down here
(how could I have been so reckless)
Really, I wasn’t expecting all this commotion
and there’s the door again –
Oh dear! Â Just as I feared –
the church ladies are here
and any moment they’ll
start sermonizing
and I’ll feel guilty
for having
let the children
loose
for
having
entertained
imperfect thoughts
for…
What the hell!
I’m an artist not a babysitter! Â Why am I worrying about judgment from a bunch of prudish old ideas about how poetry should be executed? Â I’m in charge here, right?
Children, gather round
I’ve got some tidbits –
snack-sized morsels of ideas
for us to nibble on –
we need to start a rebellion.
(Today’s challenge is to rebel.)
I know my sister’s wicked,
have been witness to her acts,
but believe me when I say
the fault is not her own –
You see she had a tenuous start,
was fragile at her birth, and
well, the coddling that ensued
instilled her beastly ways –
tantrums, she found, effective,
threats quite useful too, in fact
I can’t ever remember a time
when ‘no’ meant no for her.
So now that she’s a real Queen
ruling with treachery and wrath,
well whose to blame but those
who set her on this path, and
this is not the full confession,
I’m ashamed to say, you see
the mirror to which she turns
for advice, well it’s another
one of our contrivances –
no magic actually involved –
holograph and distorted voice –
a sibling’s nasty parlour trick
So I hope you’ll understand
that when Snow White entered
our midst – all purity of heart
and youth’s radiant beauty
we saw the perfect opportunity
to make our sister writhe, plotted
to avenge the years condemned
to her shadow – the evil all ours.
(Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to demonstrate the human side of a classic villain.)
A rowboat is a useful thing,
to get from a to b, but should
you dream you are stranded
with only one oar,
in a cesspool of sharks,
then I’d say you are hardly
equipped to handle the situation,
but don’t bail –
all you can do is hang on
and wait for the cavalry
(or better yet, Coast Guard).
Remember, save the rowboat
for romantic sunset cruise –
along the shore is best –
or an afternoon of fishing;
better to travel in deeper waters
with a more fitting vessel.
(There, I think I am done. Â The NaPoWriMo challenge today is to write a dream interpretation for one or more objects listed, which wades into my interest zone. Â I’ll leave the audience alone now.)
A hammer is a driving thing,
as in driving home a point –
a moniker my husband bear’s
to depict his tenacious fight.
There’s hammer hold, and
hitting the nail on the head,
and “If I had a hammer” –
testimony to its symbolism.
A hammer, much like character,
is innocuous on its own, requires
willingness to wield, and practice
to perfect, but can be very useful.
A tool – not in the derogatory sense,
unless a dream assailant carries on
a relentless pursuit – a part of self
intent on breaking through walls.
So, should you dream of hammer –
not the M.C. kind – then ask yourself
these questions: Â Am I on point, or
are my efforts actually constructive?
(Kind of like me with this NaPoWriMo exercise, lol.)
One Woman's Quest 