The Poetry Marathon

Pine Trees

A beautiful winter scene

Red cardinals resting on a snow kissed

Pine tree

Breathtaking;

Perhaps on a Hallmark card

But not in my backyard

Pine trees roots

Spread and decimate

My lawn

Ruining backyard

Soccer games,

Tag,

And Hide-and-Go Seek,

Tripping victims

With its infectious

Roots

Beautiful winter scene?

I say, “Hack up its roots!”

Murphy’s Cave

May 10, 1967

Three boys went in

Exploring for treasure

Searching for snakes

And rocks

And bugs

And all those things

Boys like to search for

Inside creepy old caves

May 10, 1967

Three boys went in

With shovels and

Flashlights

And a science kit

Searching for an adventure

Three boys who weren’t

Supposed to leave their yards

That night

But

They had to follow

The darkness

Into

Murphy’s Cave

May 10, 1967

Three boys followed the

Path into

Murphy’s Cave

Three boys never returned.

In the glory of their love

The lovers embrace

Under the canopy of nightfall

The moon lights their radiance

No panic, no haste

Only passion

By the lake side, the blanket of gold

Envelopes the lovers in

The Kiss

The Wanderer

One single gull feather floats

On the face of the sea

I have traveled centuries

Mocking civilizations

Witnessing

Empires crumble

All the while

I float

Alone

But I am free

Freedom on the Sea.

One Dress

I know your life was not easy

Immigrant parents

With little English

Farmers during the depression

Thirteen brothers and sisters

Alcoholic father

You had one dress

Only one

No plumbing

You drank from the well

Poor education

You started working during

The eighth grade

Dropped out

Moved out

Supported yourself

Single mother

You worked hard

Taught me to value the same

You always told me

I would go to college

You made us a home

Full of books,

Sunday dresses

(not just one)

I look back

At how much

I took for granted,

Never really understanding

I admire you for

The battles you fiercely faced in life;

I admire how you are battling now

For your dignity, your memory, and

Your life.

A Room of Her Own

The office was once called The Golfing Room

Computer, desk, chair

Golf pictures in every corner

Titleist banner engulfed one wall

Even the light switch

adorned with a

pewter golfer

She painted on the kitchen table

Toting her paints in one container or another

A grocery bag, coffee can, a Hello Kitty lunch box

Always a temporary space

Never a home for

Paints or brushes

Or receipts

From

Michael’s

Little by little

The golf pictures disappeared,

Replaced with brushes and paints

And canvases

Of clouds

Faces

Dreams

A sacrifice by one

Something as small as a corner room

Meant so much to the other

Now she has a room of her own

Except

For

That

Titleist

Banner

Masquerade

The paintbrush voices the words I cannot speak
The landscapes open up the emotions I cannot show
The pigments flourish where I fail
The pallet reaches out with a gentle touch

The landscapes open up the emotions I cannot show
A whisper of feeling, of love, of tenderness
The pallet reaches out with a gentle touch
Hues cascade into a mélange of emotions

A whisper of feeling, of love, of tenderness
The paintbrush voices the words I cannot speak
Hues cascade into a mélange of emotions
The pigments flourish where I fail

Teacher Angst, Night Terrors

Each year before school starts, I have horrible teacher

       nightmares. These are images from just a few.

Too many students, not enough desks,

Forgot to read instructions for a state test;

Hard to teach when I didn’t plan a lesson,

A cellphone (my own) goes off during testing;

Have to ice-skate to my classroom,

Without previewing, I show an R-rated YouTube;

I’m not wearing a bra and my blouse is see-through,

What’s a middle school teacher to do?

When nobody’s listening,

Teacher’s defeated eyes are glistening;

Students are drinking wine and smoking cigarettes,

Wake up soon from these nightmarish vignettes!

Welcome to a new school year!

I remember, in my dream, standing in my mom’s living room, feeling the peace and security of home. Standing in front of the window, sun shining through, breaking the light into rainbows of light, He reached out and took my hand in his. He did not look like the pictures I saw of him in church, not a face, more like a presence of warmth, light, and comfort. I remember asking Him about the Holy Trinity. Even after years of Sunday School and catechism, I never really grasped the idea of three, yet one, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. With one hand on my shoulder, He opened his other hand, where I saw three blades of grass, and He asked me what I saw. “Grass,” I answered. He then asked me to look out the window and tell him what I saw. I looked at the lawn and answered, “Grass.”

“You see,” he said holding out the blades of grass, “three,” pointed to the lawn, “yet one.”

Stems of emerald

Carpet, cool the earthly ground

Blades soften travels

The Day I Bought a Detroit Stripper

I am approaching mid-life

If you consider 49 mid-life

Almost too quickly

That is why my recent purchase

Is quite surprising:

I bought a Detroit Stripper.

Well, not really,

What I really bought

Was a paintbrush

A very specific type of

Brush

Excellent for painting texture,

A Deerfoot Stippler

Imagine my friend’s surprise

Reading my text:

“Went to Michael’s today. Bought a Detroit Stripper.”

Auto-correct is a jerk!