Not anymore, but there was a time
When laundry piled up in baskets
And toys cluttered the floors.
Our mornings were hectic
Nothing ever in its place.
Keys always missing and
Lunch money dispersed.
Backpacks with homework,
Field trip permission forms, and
Last minute projects forgotten til 8.
Life was chaotic, messy; an adventure.
Gate changes and delays
harried young mother
wearing infant son
towing another;
frazzled.
Distraught debutante clicking
three-inch louboutins;
furious glimpses of
red against gray
tiled floors.
Hawaiian-shirted tourist
clutching camera close
strap flapping on
printed purple
hibiscus.
Hipster dude in black framed
glasses, reading kerouac
while moving his lips
to the pure beat of
a lost generation.
Elderly passenger, bound
for Tokyo; cancelled
flight, long missed
connection results
in frantic call.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s daily prompt: Turn, Turn, Turn. Which season do you look forward to most?
Serve me a large mug of Autumn:
Oranges, golds, yellows, and
Browns
Fires on crisp October
Evenings.
Sweaters, hoodies, woolen
Socks
Broken-in blue jeans and a
Soft blue barn coat–
Flannel lined.
High school football,
After game party
Hay rack rides
S’mores cooked to perfection.
Delicious chill in the air
Tailor-made for cuddling.
Trick-or-treating and
Jack-o’lanterns
Hot apple ciders and chocolate
With marshmallows.
Fill my mug again.
…get out of bed,
take a shower,
brush my teeth?
Must I
…wear a bra,
pull on clothes,
leave the house?
Must I
…drive cautiously,
signal turns,
stop at lights?
Must I
…dodge papparazi,
walk red carpets,
smile for the camera?
Must I get out of bed?
Peace, People!
All along the wooden pier,
benches sit immobile,
beckoning visitors to rest.
Words etched on brass plates
for all to see:
“In Loving Memory of My Parents”
“For My Dearest Aunt Laura”
“In Memory of a Great Fisherman”
One imagines the benches might
mark the places at which each
memorialized person spent time
casting hooked lines
into the gulf’s waters
while drinking cold Budweiser
to better pass the time
between sunrise and sunset.
Now, lovers claim the benches
wrapped in embraces, scarcely
noticing the memorial plaques
on the creaky, weathered slats.
Fishing for affection
in the early evening hours
catching no fish,
but not caring.
would you clap in delight
when the lights go out,
or would you cower in darkness
afraid to take a single step?
would you cry in despair
believing all was lost,
or pass the time in reflection
recalling the blessings of night?
would you dance in place
swaying with abandon
or collapse in a heap of despair
forever changed by the absolute?
After I published this post a friend and fellow writer, Janie Christie Heniford, pointed out that the quote attributed to Galileo is instead from a poem (below) by Sara Williams. Thanks Janie!
Though my soul may set in darkness,
It will rise in perfect light.
For I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night.–Sara Williams
To sleep, perchance to dream…
I often dream of houses
that seemingly have room
after room with no hallways.
In these rooms I wander
finding unexpected treasures,
antiques, and curiosities in each.
Someone once told me that
when we dream about houses
we are dreaming about our lives.
In that case, my life is
filled with wonderful oddities
and treasures all hiding in plain sight.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt.
i talk to myself
hoping to
unknot persistent
ideas that
repeatedly careen
around the
smooth cornerless
contours of my mind
like a bird against a
pane wanting in,
even if they die
in the process.
Drove to the beach
Picnicked on the pier
Waded in the waves
Sipped at a beer
Napped beneath the sun
Strolled upon the sand
Searched for seashells
Listened to a band
Gathered up the towels
Rinsed off my toes
Drove into town
Rubbed lotion on my nose.
Living in this world
takes concentration and verve
not to mention nerve.
Pain abounds in life
miseries without an end
oh humanity!
Yet deep within us
exists enduring beauty
sweetly transcendent.
Photos found on Pinterest.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 