The Poetry Marathon

Sister Creatives.

The sister creatives have gathered in my heart.

Friends and strangers who give voice to Beauty andHope.

Women who hear the universal call

in these troubled times to notice out loud

as it threads itself in golden connections

linking the deepest groaning of the spirit.

Women who yell and  whisper the quiet things into being.

Love the tribal wisdom humbly passed from generation to generation.

The collectors of heart tears ready to replenish and re-water the thirsty roots.

Tribal fingers that touch fingertips through the darkness.

and the continued nurturing of the Sisters who  help me celebrate the rose petals of my life that continue to unfold.

Involuntary Reaction

She couldn’t believe

it had happened again

As she tripped down the stairs on a toy.

She’d told him and told him

to pick up his things,

Oh where was that dratted boy???

He was in the kitchen covering his mouth.

His body was bent over double.

If his mom saw a trace

of the smile on his face,

he’d  definitely be in trouble.

He wasn’t happy she’d fallen,

But his mind shook hard  cause he’d  heard

When  his Mama fell,

She let out a yell,

And screamed  the naughty  “F” word.

Will the Chill

Will the Chill

was naturally born chill.

Other squirrels just annoyed him.

always chittering about

and talking things out

He thought their reasoning was dim.

He was a deep thinker

And never a drinker

He’d rather be meditating.

But when he was quiet

they’d just start a riot.

always so darn aggravating.

Will had very strong words

for squirrels who chased birds

To him that was mean and tacky.

He tried singing along when he heard birdsong;

but his friends all thought he was wacky.

Bullied at squirrel school

Bullied on the phone.

He just wished everyone would leave him alone.

A friendly creature

walked up one day and barked out loud,”Would you like to play?

He t speak squirrel.

Will didn’t speak dog ,

but if you look in my yard,

they’re still playing today.

Nanny’s Special Tunafish  Salad

My Nanny’s tunafish salad.

Family occasio.meal.

All the females in the kitchen chatting together.

Nanny standing st the sink running water

over the oil packed tuna.

No water packed in those days.

Peeling perfectly boiled eggs

with shells that never stuck to the white part.

Chopping with a real knife…big kid status.

//chopping crunchy fresh celery bought from the neighbor next door.

Red delicious apples.

Checked for worm holes before chopping, of course,

Occasionally they were still wiggling.

Ewwww.

Fresh pecans gathered from the backyard.

Cracking those pecans while watching some black and

white family show on tv.

DelMonte sweet pickle relish about half a cup.

And just the right amount of Kraft mayonnaise.

This delicacy was served on fresh homegrown tomatoes with a side of homemade bread for those who wanted it.

A time of family bonding.

Gigan

Gigan

I know now how to say it.

I tried and tried

My brain is fried

There’s just no way to play it.

The instructions tripped me up

after a  very slow re-reading.

I’m not sure just immature

My brain feels like it’s bleeding.

I’m mean and clean

Full of healthy protein

But I really have to stop.

I’m in trouble

so on the double

You better call the cop.

Snapshot  of Joy

iPhone pic number 10

Of course

My daughter with her three daughters

My heart’s treasures.

A perfect snapshot of Joy

Everybody clean.

Everybody color coordinated.

Everybody pink and white.

Everybody smiling.

Almost laughing…in that moment.

Sometimes in the course

of daily mothering,

those moments are hard to remember.

Mothering is hard…

Captured moments are visual

gifts of  spiritual encouragement.

Cause mothering is hard,

A blessing but….hard.

Non-letter  to myself

To write a letter to myself from any of the folks coming to mind in this moment. Hmmmm….

Feels too revelatory to print in public.

Memories  cascading through my head

are arguing with each other.

Some are happy…some sad..some excited…some angry,,

some choking back tears,

some taking a nap.

Long ago boyfriends, childhood besties,

favorite teachers, heartbreakers.

family members..loyal connections, betrayers.

They all seem to be waving through a translucent haze.

And  they look exactly as they did when last seen.

Of course that’s impossible.

I’d love to have a real conversation with them.That’s why this prompt is so intriguing.

I can hear long locked doors straining to open in the darkness.

For now I will keep the letter in my heart and visit another time.

My letter to me from me is….You’re getting better at this living thing.

Keep showing up…

Connecting Random Words

Reading the latest hardback book.

Knitting Sunflowers.

Lovely to sit under the ancient shady oak tree.

Squirrels mutter as a they dash across

the steaming hot pavement.

Each squirrel is holding a wine glass in one hand

and a piece of cheddar cheese in the other.

Time to pack  the stitchery  book into my brand new Star Trek satchel

covered with tiny rockets blasting into space.

And past time to get my own wine glass

and join the squirrels.

If I do say so myself, i think i nailed this prompt.

In 1922  many years ago

my honey would’ve been  quite dapper

I’d have been a flapper

Always on the go.

Dancing all night

We’d rarely fight

Drinking in speakeasy bars.

Laughing til dawn

All our money gone

Driving home

in  our Model T cars.

The future looked  bright

Til we lost the light

And fell down  depression’s hole.

Millions lost jobs

Hit the streets in mobs

And lived on the government dole.

Just a reminder to be much kinder

To those who are walking in fear.

For it’s hard to look up

With an empty cup

and homelessness is near.

Confident rose gold  tree surveying the field around her.

Cocking her head gently to the side

she waves to the fuchsia flowers

honoring her with their profusion

of deep pink passion.

She’s been celebrating

the coming and going

Of nature’s  more transient visitors

for years.

They are full of questions

about what will happen next..

As she knows their journey will not be long,

she encourages them to harmonize with her

in a symphony of floral music.

The sky is filled with tyoung blooming voices

which  dance forever in the wind.