A Facebook friend challenged me to write a companion piece to his “Uncomplicated” poem. Here ‘s my take on it.
Uncomplicated
Old Ford truck, tailgate down
Levis and a faded chambray
Flip flops, goosebumps
Two Buck Chuck in a Dixie cup.
Fire pit in October
S’mores well done,
Sitting on the back porch,
Drowning in the stars.
Church on Sunday very last pew
Singing all the old hymns
I’ll fly away, oh glory,
Amazing Grace,
And you.
Shouldn’t the word scurvy
Be an adjective to describe
A delicate morsel so sweet
And tasty that other treats
Blanch in comparison?
Gosh, that dessert was scurvy!
Or a nubile brunette reclined
On a chaise lounge
in a slinky red gown
My goodness, she is scurvy
Or even scurvaceous.
Instead, scurvy is a noun;
A disease brought on by a
Lack of some critical vitamin
C or D or K
Or is that rickets?
Anyway, it’s a disease: scurvy.
Rickets, come to think of it
Sounds like it should be some
Kind of annoying insect that
Chirrups in the darkest
Corners of the bedroom.
Darned rickets.
In my grandparents, home
There was a painting of a bowl
Brown, with cream swirls,
Uneven and tilted, spilling its
Contents:
Red apples and green grapes,
Oranges, too, though,
Simply orange, but
In shades that differ
Ever so slightly,
Onto a table set for one
It takes a sharp eye to see
The tiny dimples and
Wrinkles, curves, and lines
Of the woman outside the
Frame.
Still, life is life.
Julie Andrews sang about her favorite things in “The Sound of Music.”
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad
Granted, songwriters Rodgers and Hammerstein were trying to rhyme, but there’s no way schnitzel with noodles would’ve made favorite things list. Truthfully, only the kitten whiskers would make it into my top ten.
So, what are my favorite things? And, can I rhyme them?
Nana’s Favorite Things
Folks with kind faces and grand kids with kisses
Star Wars on TV and zombie near misses
Wine poured in crystal and the joy that it brings
These are a few of my favorite things.
Tex-Mex with salsa and hot melted cheeses
Football on Sundays and trips to the beaches
Going to Vegas and laying down kings
These are a few of my favorite things.
Reading a good book and napping on weekends
Fire pits in autumn and dinner with good friends
Old jeans with edges frayed into strings
These are a few of my favorite things.
When the scales say
What do you weigh?
When my wrinkles show
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so low!
“Seriously? Schnitzel? Noodles?”
She’s a fearsome broad–
This headache.
Trapped within the narrow
Confines of my skull.
Pounding her knobby fists
Whump! Whump! Whump!
Against my brow
Inside out.
Kicking her gaudy stilettos
Whomp! Whomp! Whomp!
Into my cheekbones
Upside down.
I’ve made an offering
Of peace.
A sacrifice of two orange
Gel-filled caplets slugged back
Shot style.
Hurry, relief.
Studly Doright, (my first and current husband), our two children, and I have moved many times in our 38.5 years of marriage, so we’ve never become overly attached to any one residence. Home has always been wherever our little family is at any given time.
A friend wrote something on Facebook the other day, though, that made me wonder what it would have felt like to have stayed in one home for all of our married lives, raising a family and watching them grow, and helping them leave the nest. I wondered what it would be like when eventually one of us had to face the task of selling the home. Ok, I got a little teary eyed.
The poem below is what came of my reverie. Parts of it are gleaned from true events from my own childhood–I drew the mountains, my brothers and I played for hours and hours under a big old pine tree in a long ago front yard.
Please pardon our dust
The old house has been closed up for a long, long time.
But if you close your eyes
You can almost feel the love that once lived here.
Over there our children played
At make-believe
Before they made their own lives
And their own dust in their own homes.
Please pardon my tears
I really thought this would be easier,
But remembering is both sweet and hard.
You see these marks on the wall?
Our oldest drew ‘mountains’ there
When she was barely three.
I kept meaning to paint over them
But thirty years later you can still
Pretend to take a trip to the summit
And ski down the slopes to drink
Hot chocolate at the lodge.
Please pardon my lapse
I just can’t go through the rest
Look around on your own
Take your time.
Be sure to visit the backyard and
Swing on that old tire,
Maybe dig in the sand,
And carve roads under the pine.
It’s a fine place for kids
It was a fine place for us.
Rhymes with Autumn
Did you get those shoes? Got ’em!
What will you do with those plants? Pot ’em!
How do you tie your laces? Knot ’em!
How’d you get those books? Bought ’em!
Where’d you get those fish? Caught ’em!
How’d they win the war? Fought ’em!
How’d those kids learn that? Taught ’em!
I know there are more
Ways to rhyme Autumn
Unfortunately I seem
To have reached
Rock Bottom!
The road from point A to point B is 30
semi-straight, lackluster interstate miles.
I drive it most days on my way to work,
But I always look for shortcuts.
There is a road just west of Point A
That leads to a road intersecting Point B
And when I have a bit of extra time
I scoot on over and follow its curves.
Never mind that this route
While two miles shorter
Adds 20 minutes to my drive.
A shortcut in name only,
But well worth the time.
The market on love
Has been cornered
By those of us
Who know that
Sometimes the clouds threaten
And the sky goes sunless
Day upon day
And all that holds the storm at bay
Are the winds swept aloft
By shared laughter.
So what if we can’t live
On love alone?
Honestly we never even tried.
Some days we might have
Forgotten to remember, though
The importance of just looking
Into a smile and seeing
The world we’ve created
From no more than a pair
Of long ago I do’s.
Happy birthday Studly!
I like best the things that are
Left for others to find by chance
Like half a walnut shell
Discarded by a scavenging squirrel
Or a crimson leaf
Dropped by the maple out back
A shell abandoned by the sea
Or a splash of snow sparkling on
New blades of grass
Days after a spring melt.
These left things
Make me wonder
Who? When? Why?
And keep me searching
For more.
Praying for Eyebrowz 