Tuesday, February 28, 2012

From Soup to Nuts

#1 The List

Let’s see… I’ll take:

-3 cans of Courage
-2 cans of Confidence
-4 cans of Not a Nerd
-1 can of Whoop-ass

#2 Shopping at the Specialty Store

Imagine going to the store and
finding a can of 
Extra Time
on the top shelf.
I’d take the family size

Or maybe I’d pick up
a case of
Autumn Mornings,
extra crisp variety

And of course I’d grab me
a big ole’ can of 
True Love
(in heavy syrup)

But just my luck 
I get home,
unpack my purchases,   
and find the can opener  

#3 Schmitz Market

Schmitz Market
at the corner of Washington and 12th
always smelled
like hard salami and jump rope

Walking into its coolness
on a hot summer day
was as good as licking the dust
off a stick of Doublemint gum

Mr. Schmitz had dancing eyes
 and a smile that showed his delight
with his lot
beneath the bloody apron
 behind the meat counter
in his little shop

At the cash register
Mrs. Schmitz,
round and smiling,
always threw  a Saf-T-Pop
into the grocery bag
(she remembered my favorite flavor was green)

The last time I left the shop
the sound of bell,
ringing as it hit the glass door,
was cheerful as ever

But the clinking of wine glasses
in the chic, upscale wine bar it is now
just sounds wistful

These are for The Mag and dVerse open link night, both great places to check out if you are a writer or reader.  (Photo prompt is from Tess Kincaid at The Mag).

Photo credit: Bob Adelman, 1965

Friday, February 24, 2012

Blood Work

   Doctor Charles Drew
   swam against the current
   when he first banked blood

   The Red Cross
   was at cross purposes
   with the  business of
   saving lives

   They forgot
   (or pretended not to know)
   that blood cells
   are red and white,
   not black and white

   The job at hand is to transfuse
   blood not bigotry

Dr. Charles R. Drew was an African-American doctor who developed methods for blood storage and transfusions in the 1930's.  He was an outstanding person in many areas, and well worth reading more about.  One place to start is The Black Inventor Museum.  And these 55 words about him are for G-Man.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Psychedelic Superman

    It’s been a long day on the
    road to evolution

    The bad guys don’t take bank holidays
    and phone booths are  scarce

    Superman is tired;
    he no longer knows how to save us

    In a world of titanium and silicon
    even speeding bullets get left behind

    What’s your kryptonite?

Image by epic mahogany

This writing prompt is provided by Tess Kincaid.  Go to The Mag to read the gang's responses.

I thought of Kryptonite by Three Doors Down; click on it if you you'd like to listen.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Cabin Fever

February in Wisconsin
gets old.
This is time for tropical vacations,
this is why we are the fifth drunkest state
in the US.

Outside it’s snowing fluriously;
not the fresh, hopeful snow of December,
not the ‘each-flake-a-unique-miracle’ snow,
or even the big flakes children cut with
blunt-nosed scissors
to decorate classrooms…

just more damn snow

This is for G-man's Flash Friday 55.  Go check it out.  And, just for the record, this has been a very mild winter in Wisconsin, not much snow at all.  In fact yesterday it was about 45 degrees F (which is just not right).  It's just that 'cabin fever' time of year.

Image from stillwatertheatre.org

Thursday, February 16, 2012


So, when Poets United gave us the writing prompt ‘home’ for their Thursday Think Tank two different thoughts came to mind.  One was from my sappy, romantic heart, which is this:

My home is
the size
of your heart

The other response comes from my bleeding heart:

Some food for thought:
1. There are approximately 6.1 Million vacant houses In America
2. Approximately 3.5 million people are likely to experience homelessness in a given year

(Now the thinking part)

3. So, what’s wrong here?

(Vacant house statistics from blog.wsj.com 11/5/11, Homelessness statistics from National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty)

*Please follow the link at the top to Poets United to find the responses of other poets.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Cold Shoulder Trio

          autumn mist softens
    the bleak forest cathedral:
    visual incense

2.        such beauty in death
    golden, crimson, and umber
    descend as fall leaves

3.      intricate, lacy
   artwork for my window pane
   thank you Mr. Frost

I'm not a haiku master, but I have girded my er..self, and these are my attempt for Grace at IGRT

Images by wallpaperswide.com, thelonggoodbye.wordpress.com, weathersavy.com

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Valentine Offerings

     you be
     my true knight,
     bright though rusted;
     brave as a tiger,
     one I’ve always trusted
     to save me from my nightmares
     with your own prancing, dancing tongue?
     Hold me tight and kiss away my cares.

     Will you be my true knight, bright though rusted?

     Image from marxist.com

There's a nice, romantic-ish poem for Valentine's Day for all you old school romantics out there.  The  form is a Dectina Refrain created by Marion Friedenthal, with each line containing the following number of syllables: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 and the refrain repeats lines 1-4.  Go to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads to see other love poem that don't use the word 'love' in them.  This next one doesn't fit the bill, but it's just for fun.  Those of you with a slightly more twisted and humorous view of the day, this one is for you:

     My Love

     My love is like a red, red truck,
     All he wants to do is...

          drive around

     C'mon, what did ya think I was gonna say? 

       Image by magnoliamerryweather.tumblr.com   

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Top 10 and Tangle

Top 10 Juvenile Comments I Feel Compelled to Inflict on You:

     1.  I had the strangest dream…
     2.   It’s raining men, and I slipped and fell in a big puddle
     3.  What happens when you REALLY have nothing to wear
     4.  This would be way more fun if I could still feel my legs
     5.  Who farted?
     6.  Aren't you glad you use Dial?  Don’t you wish everybody did?
     7.  Sw-e-e-e-e-t dreams
     8.  Yes, I AM the center of it all
     9.  Where’s Waldo? 
     10. Careful, don’t mess up my hair!

      Just in case you wanted to hear the song click here: It's Raining Men!

Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.  Which is your favorite?  Do you have one of your own?  :o)
And now for something completely different:


There is more
than sex and death,
black and white

There is
the smooth, firm curve of grey,
with infinite points along 
the cusp

This is where we live -
in the tangle,
amid agony that may
(at any moment)

The image and more responses to it can be found at The Mag.  This is also linked to Poets United.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Danger: Thin Ice

Danger: Thin Ice
watch your step
too much weight, pressure
may crack the surface

From that central point,
hairline fractures
jaggeding their way out
weaken the cold, slippery crust

It’s dangerous
 breaking through,
plunging into the dark, swirling
so-cold-they-steal-your-breath waters

You could be swept away
never finding your way back to the
safer surface

Image by old.ho99.com 

These 55 words are for G-man.  You should click here to see lots more offerings!

Thursday, February 9, 2012


Emma sits
beside her dish,
I will forget
that meal time is at 7:00.
Hoping, at 6:17

But I do not forget

I relent

This is a rerun, but appropriate for today.  I woke up early, and Emma was quite sure that breakfast should also be served early.  

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Safety in Numbers

Sunday morning I balance my check book;
the orderliness  of rows and columns is comforting.
I write in pencil, so errors can be erased,
though I rarely make a mistake.
I print the numbers deliberately,
 forming each line and curve with care.
I double-check the math, and when I am finished
 the bank and I agree: everything balances.

I print ‘BALANCED!” with precision
across the front of the statement in ink,
because once reconciled, it never changes.
Then I file the statement in the hanging file labeled
‘Bank Statements-Checking’ in the
third drawer of the file cabinet in my home office.
And everything is just so.

Next I do Sudoku puzzles.
The nine, neat boxes stacked in order wait for me;
there is logic, process, method used to solve the problem.
It is a comfort to find where each number belongs.
There are rules to follow as I systematically fill in the grid.
Numbers are safe (thus the expression).
They don’t lie, or cheat, or grow bored and fall out of love.

One day I will move on to the Sunday Crossword Puzzle,
but not yet. 
I am not yet ready to deal in the treachery of words.

Image by bits-apogee.org

This can be found at Poets United in their Poetry Pantry.  Go there to see lots of others' offerings, or post a poem of your own.  

Grave Matter

   Here is the sorcerer’s stone
   offered up for you;

   transmute base urges into
   pure wisdom,

   or let it slip through your fingers
   like faded flower petals

In response to a picture of Aleksandr Bakulev's gave at Novodevichy Cemetery, Moscow  provided by Tess at The Mag.

Handle with Care

   you my
   heart, freely,
   little knowing what
   you desired was a trophy

This is a Fibonacci poem (or Fib) is a multiple-line verse based on the Fibonacci sequence so that the number of syllables in each line equals the total number of syllables in the preceding two lines.  Technically, the first line in a Fibonacci poem with n = 0 has no syllables, and therefore constitutes a moment of silence.  So the syllables per line is as follows: 0/1/1/2/3/5/8/13/21/34/55 etc.  Mine is 6 lines long, 7 if you count the 0 syllable moment of silence at the beginning.  The image is from The Mag.

Image: the grave of Aleksandr Bakulev at the Novodevichy Cemetery, Moscow

Saturday, February 4, 2012


The aim is to balance the terror of being alive with the wonder of being alive.   -Carlos Castaneda

Where do I set the fulcrum
to balance
fear and curiosity

too far one way
makes a homebound,
crazy cat lady

paralysis creeping slowly
from extremities to heart

subsisting on
bland, over-filtered sustenance
through electronic i.v.

but too far the other way
 leaves one skewered
on sharp spikes of sarcasm

or burning in fires of
 requited or unreturned love

or lost in the dark labyrinth
of an unknown city
following one way roads
to a dead end

There is no middle ground;
if I close my eyes
and step off the cliff
what revelation will come
on the way down?

Image by Emma Clark at at clarkazcreativedesign.wordpress.com

This is in response to Poets United Thursday Think Tank provided by Ella Wilson.  Click on the link to read the link to read the prompt and lots of other responses.

Friday, February 3, 2012

This Isn't Really a Poem

But I’m so excited I had to tell you
The TARDIS landed in my living room
today at 3:38 PM
It really is bigger on the inside!
I’m so happy –happy –happy
I’m doing the time travel jig!
Now I just need to decide
to go to first!

55 really, really happy words for G-man at Friday Flash 55

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Now Playing

         Where will it take you?

That is my first response to the wonderful picture with the movie prompt at the IGRT posted by Ella.  Just imagine - a ticket to admit one.  If you could use it to go anywhere...anywhen...where, when and to what will you choose to go?  
Then, after thinking about it, I came up with a much more depressing response:

I only
go to tear-jerkers
so after
credits roll
and house lights come on
my obvious weeping is

This is a Shadorma + a poetry form which contains the following number of syllable per line: 3/5/3/3/7/5 (standard) + and extra 3 syllable line, just ...because :o)

Image by Nelson Marques