Thanksgiving Thoughts

I’m not always thankful at appropriate times;

my rhythm is off and I’m not good with rhymes,

but somehow I can’t help think that Thanksgiving

might not look so lovely, viewed from reservation living.

I don’t mean to be difficult, rude or offensive

but it seems that our holiday is awfully expensive.

Please excuse my negative comments on Thanksgiving.  I do have a whole cartload of stuff I'm thankful for.  And I do think it's good to get together with family and friends and express this gratitude.  I just don't want to forget how I got here.  So I wish everyone all the best and  I'm really thankful for G-man, FF55 and this great online writing community.

Giving Thanks

   Image from Shine the Divine Laura Hegfield, designed and stitched by Sharon Mitchell

This

moment

I'm grateful

for all the people

in my life, 

both present now

and gone.

I am grateful 

for the experiences I've had 

both dark and bright

that have led me to

this moment.  

This is my contribution to a great project called the Gratitude quilt.  Laura Hegfield started this annual project in 2009 to express her thanks for all the good in her life inspite of the challenges of illness.  You can read the full story on her blog  Shine the Divine.  

On Committing to Write a Poem a Day for November and Starting Poem #13 on the 20th of the Month

    Image: Calvin by Bill Watterson

Open your heart –

that’s where the love is.

Open your liver –

that’s where the bile is.

Open your mind –

that’s where the thoughts are.

Open your mouth –

that’s where the words are.

Open your damn notebook (or word document) -

that’s where those words go -

and they sure as hell aren’t going to write themselves.

Well, I think the title says it all.  Other than this is 55 total crap words torturously pulled from my faded brain for G-man and his FF55.  Click on the link and check it out.

Drought

We drink dust through cracked lips

swallowing nosily.

Our skin hangs in loose folds,

dull, flaking,

bones ache, joints rub against one another

with soft, scraping sounds.

We stand lighting matches in the fire,

dreaming of rain.

For November PAD.

It Is What It Is...Not

I dream

and in my dream

things are cross-wise, wrong…

I scour the sink

with my toothbrush,

and tiny black bits of dirt

fall from the bristles.

Everything is off a bit,

like the reflection from the mirror

when the medicine cabinet door

is ajar, just a bit

Then I wake and find you gone.

This will be a poem one day.  For now though it's just 55 words for G-man and his FF55.  Click on the link and check it out!

Self-Help

   Image: A boy sits amid the ruins of a London bookshop following an air raid on October 8, 1940, reading a book titled “The History of London.” 

I once thought
I could solve any problem
if only I could find
the right
book.

We Cling to the Familiar

     Image: People in Trees by Mikola Gnisyuk vis Baibakov Art Projects

We cling to the familiar,

to what we know,

long after we know

it no longer serves us,

no longer is true.

We cling to the familiar,

because we have done this

for so long,

to pry our fingers away is painful.

Our hands are adhered,

seared to the surface

of the obsolete.

And in tearing them away

we leave

raw, bloody layers

of ourselves 
behind.

We cling to the familiar,

because we do not know

what else to cling to,

and the thought

of empty hands,

of free falling,

with nothing to hold on to

terrifies us.

We cling to the familiar,

because we know it,

because imagining something else,

something new,

is hard,

and we are lazy.

We resist when we can simply cling

to the familiar.

So we do.

We cling to the familiar

long after

it has become
absurd.

This is for the November PAD (Poem a Day).  The image is a prompt from Robert Brewer at Writers Digest.  Click on the link and check it out.

Exit Dancing

    Image: Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895096, Edgar Degas

Enter the closet

with boxes full of dreams,

excess baggage,

skeletons,

dirty laundry,

truth.

Close the door tight.

No.

Open the door,

and come out

dancing.

This image is provided by Tess Kincaid at The Mag creative writing group.  Click on the link and check it out.

Skipping Past Time

     Image by Mike Worrall

Next year,

when we were children

we loved

skipping time:

double Dutch forward,

peppers back,

criss-cross applesauce 
back and forth again.

Who could keep track

of when we are?

Not the jumper,

or swingers,

or those in line

waiting their turn.

This is for Grace in the Imaginary Garden.  She asked us to write about one of the many, delightful paintingsof Mike Worrall.  And it's also for Mary's prompt involving childhood toys or games over at dVerse Poets Pub.  Click on each of the links for more responses.  

Pushmi-pullyu

You

push me

away,

then entice me to

pull you

back.

Again and again and again.

This is the game

we play.

And now

I am ready

for something new.

Yet I fear,

when I finally

 push you

away,

you may not care to

pull me

back

to you.

For G-man and his FF-55.  And in keeping with the theme, just for fun here is a Brilliant youtube Doctor/River song.  Enjoy!
*Image from carolseatory.blogspot.com 

Building

I’m a traveler

but I do not travel light.

I bring many bags

filled with heavy bricks I use

to build a circumscribed wall.

You unpack your bags

and set the bricks between us.

Eyes meet, and I place

 my hand on yours.  Together,

from the wall, we build a path.

This is for the  dVerse open link night. Click on the link and check out some of the many offerings there.  This poetry form is called a somonka.  It is comprised of two tankas ( 5/7/5/7/7 syllables per line)   written as love letters–each tanka from one of two lovers.  It’s the poetic prompt from yesterday for the November PAD (poen a day) at Writer's Digest Poetic Asides.  And I'm linking it to day so, yes, once again I’m fashionably late.  

Dona Nobis Pacem

Image from johnworldpeace.com

World Peace:

so much better than

a world in pieces

This post is a Blog4Peace, thanks to Kerry at IGRT for the suggestion for the open link day.  Please click on the link to check out a garden full of peace blogs.  Read and join us.  Let's all wage peace.

Recurrection Reunion

     Resurrection Reunion 2 by Stanley Spencer

What the hell?

Here I am, back again;

dirt up my nose and in my ears,

amid all these crazy people

in woolen stockings.

When time bends over, double

and we step

across the fold

to back-here-again,

then dinosaur oil slicks

knit back

into shining, bone-hard whiteness

covered over in leather-flesh

filled with being.

Dusty tombs

fill with reconstituted blood and juices,

fresh flesh,

so succulent and tender,

lips again kissable

tongues speaking, shrieking

hands pulling aside

death shrouds.
And feet,

my feet,

in woolen stockings

amid all these crazy people;

dirt up my nose and in my ears.

Here I am, back again.

What the hell?

This is for the The Mag creative writing group and also the Nobember PAD prompt from Writer's Digest.  Click on the links and check them out.

The Local News

     newspaper-jon-s.jpg

Bananas on sale 39 cents a pound

Furniture BLOWOUT!  This weekend only!

*check out our expanded holiday hours

SWF seeking NS-SWM

Britney and Miley Raise Eyebrows at Karaoke Bar

The News peacefully passed away Tuesday, October 21 1997. 

No one noticed until last week. 

It is survived by advertising, personals, weather, happy ads and Celebrity quasi-news.

In lieu of flowers please send IQ points.

This is the post for Day 2 of PAD (poem a day for the month of November).  The prompt "news of the day" from Robert Brewer of Writers Digest.

And Then November

I don’t see you come

but I feel your cold breath

on my back.

Your gaze stoops my shoulders

and I wither

inside,

curling in

around the dark

like the petals of a flower.

A dozen shades

of brown and grey

fill my eyes.

A killing frost is coming;

I must prepare the ground.

This is for G-man and his FF55.  I missed you all the last couple weeks! 

And this is also for d'Verse where Claudia wants us to write about color, and for  Writers' Digest PAD (writing prompts for November's poem a day challenge).  Today's challenge was "appear" and I tried to do it without using the word itself.