Food

I wish I had my mother’s gift

for making something out of nothing.

A can of tuna

is creamed tuna on toast.

Flour turns drippings into gravy.

Jello is a fancy desert.

Leftover roast beef

is a Sunday night sandwich.

Rhubarb is a pie.

Apples make a sauce.

Her kitchen was an allegory

for life lessons.

 

Hour Eight: The Light Held us in Silence

You sit there, the sun mounting
a late afternoon offensive—you
sitting stoically with your place
in the rank behind, what seems
now to you anyway, to be a dugout,
a trench, marking the place where he,
the family cornerstone—that’s what
you called him—has been laid to rest
after his final battle. This won’t be

your final battle. You sit in silence,
mind protected by dark glasses,
soul protected by the dark leather-
bound, gilt-edged bible, clutched
to your chest, that nobody, but you
and him, bothered to read anymore.
Still, they who have no higher claim,
want the precious book, as they
do the watch, the ring, the car,

the money, the house, the farm,
his throne, now yours. Hypocrites, they
praise the sunlight: “God, sent his angels
to carry him home.” You know this to be a
a sign of the devil, scorching the earth
to make sure he is dead and gone. He
is gone, leaving you to hold the hand
of the women sitting beside you who
in another time knew and loved you.

Hour 12: Can’t you hear the drumbeat?

Celebrating Juneteenth,

I resurrected the djembe

and

marched in the light of God

 

Keeping time with

syncopated rhythms,

we danced and

we sang with hope and

heavy hearts

how we knew

freedom was coming

“Oh, yes,” we sang,

“I know!”

 

With little rhyme

and less reason,

We beat joy

into sacred songs and the griot

answered the call,

Covering us

in holy fire

Breathing grace

into our sway

Giving voice

to our visions

Guiding us

into a brighter day

 

Echoes of bravado

for fierceness —

Empty and hollow music

filling up

the emptiness

inside

 

 

Prompts for Hour Twelve

Text Prompts

Write about gathering with others. The specifics are up to you.

Image Prompts

Contributed by Ofuma Agali who adds “This is a sitting room of an Art Centre in Ikot Ekpene, south of Nigeria. This place attracts writers and readers alike.”

Watermelon

Hot and humid summer days

scream to me, “EAT WATERMELON.“

Its cold red flesh cools me, hydrates me,

and makes a mess!

still, I’ve always loved watermelon

in the hot and humid summer.

Two New Boys in the Family

For Garrett, a shy first-born, his world is Mommy, Daddy,the dogs and a few.

When his loving Momma pulls out the camera,

He sometimes gets lost in the joyful moments

indoors or outdoors, in handsome clothes or comfy pajamas.

 

When daddy swings him upside down and swooping through the air,

Garrett’s face lights up from a smile to a wide-open jubilant noise.

When Mommy plays peek-a-boo, he strains his head,

and when she is found, his happiness is loud and contagious.

 

Vinny was born to Garrett’s Daddy’s youngest Aunt

just a few days after Garrett. so in a sitting side-by-side picture

they both look at each other curiously, their sizes matching.

Vinny is not so shy, with brothers in college, and a sister in junior high.

 

A favorite picture of Vinny shows him held by Kelsey near the Christmas tree

He stares adoringly.  Months later, he has found his voice for MA MA MUM

Vinny is more impish, and you can tell by his delighted outburst at realizing he

is on Mom and Dad’s bed, not stuck in the crib, and the gleeful noise proclaims his delight.

 

Both boys are becoming adept at maneuvering around.

First crawls can be seen with serious focus at first, then a growing smile,

and when they catch Mom or Dad  watching, it is sudden hilarity.

Even without words, it is so much fun and such a joke to gain more territory.

 

By Nancy Ann Smith,  Poetry Marathon #11,  June 25, 2022

 

Hour 11

She is not far from the ground

but cannot feel her roots attached

 

She bears the most exquisite fruit

but feels like her seeds fall on

parched soil.

Spark

Hour- 11

The eternal lamp of your expression has lit
The world has become illumined
are you leaving the aroma from your lips
Fragrant all-around fizz
The voice of birds sitting silent echoed
are you chuckling
Many pearls fall from the clouds
In between your brims
As if Small buds have bloomed
many chirping instruments
have been played
New Melodies emerged
Just by your one expression
The world has danced
Just by your one emotion
it is you glowing.

 

Aditi Dixit