This earth,turned by Gardners, Millers Tended by Bosworth Sisters, the Bulla Twins Name after name They fill our Funeral guest books Our mouse-chewed keepsake albums. In the old farmstead shed I find a spade, Rusted, still sturdy Under the eves Near a bag of Marbles forgotten For decades then Walk out of the barn-dust Dark … Continue reading April 19 Bark Boats
April 18 Saturdays
Long ago and semi far away There was one day of every Seven set to side step stress First thought: No School, Make it count! Second thought: Fruit Loops Cartoon mornings, PJ’s Til chores, which started Out lousy, but ended up with A ticket to fling open windows to the waiting neighborhood and a free … Continue reading April 18 Saturdays
Day 17
Dad sold me the yellow Astra for $1 in 1983 Already the end an era that junker we listened to Jim Croce sing Operator on a barely-functioning 8-track tape deck my sister and I drove my broken heart east. On the Pennsylvania Turnpike I entered a phone booth with a slip of paper (also yellow) … Continue reading Day 17
Day 15 Somewhere in Time, My Mother
Somewhere in time, my mother played Bach on a second-hand upright piano painted green Nap times I listened through closed doors. Her records spun low in other rooms pale green The woven rug, a circle and my belly scratched - I traced spiral patterns Red, blue, green Round and round in repeating Fingersteps, and my … Continue reading Day 15 Somewhere in Time, My Mother
Day 15 Getting It
Speaking of stealing (a la yesterday's prompt), much in this poem comes from having read an essay in Poets.org on Clarity and Obscurity in Poetry --an old article saved in my archives. Obfuscation an obstacle difficulty is friction in syntax, reference, image, idea metaphysical reach mapping the contours of the interpreted world what ARE the … Continue reading Day 15 Getting It
Day 13 Do Not Apologize
“Do not apologize”, she said for your razor wit your large wisdom your body of truth for walking away for staying behind for surviving the storm for evading the authorities for moving ahead for buying time for eating your words for reading it wrong for your rose colored glasses for breaking their hearts for … Continue reading Day 13 Do Not Apologize
April 12 Triolet +1
Triolet for Marie; Our Feet Lead On Could not have guessed when fist we met A friendship found, and found delight So many weathers, cold and wet Could not have guessed when first we met In confidence, despairing let Our feet lead on, hearts warm, shared sight Could not have guessed when first we met … Continue reading April 12 Triolet +1
Days 10& 11
(Travelers Day) Highway Strange Road Follow the signs ******* Floriography; Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose Alas, poor heart, mine bends, it bleeds They grow then fly like milkweed seeds In sweetness as a soft breeze blows Carnation Lily, Lily Rose In summer days the garden lit with fireflies in bottles fit to open wide, you let … Continue reading Days 10& 11
Day 9 Edison
Edison explains his phonograph: Your words are preserved in tinfoil and will come back upon the application of the instrument years after you are dead in exactly the same tone of voice you spoke them in…This tongueless, toothless instrument, without larynx or pharynx, dumb voiceless matter, nevertheless mimics your tones, speaks with your voice, utters … Continue reading Day 9 Edison
Day 8 Dreaming The Last Dream of the Old Oak
From Mary Ruefle bot @ruefle_exe The morning rang with the razor-rip of saws and of cursing men, the crack of hardwood against concrete. She stood little chance against my neighbor’s aspirations for more patio furniture, less leaf fall, more light. Oh, I whispered No And she was gone.
Early Morning Poems 