Sunday Scribblings: Instinct

"Little Deuce Coupe"
is blasting from loudspeakers,
raining the sixties

all over the classic car meet
at Muscle Car City.
My first instinct

is to remain in our car
reading while my husband
walks around. He convinces

me I should go with him,
though. I see shiny Corvettes,
Cadillacs, GTOs, Model Ts,

a VW bus with peace signs,
and an El Camino my husband
loves. But I've have enough

of the past. So, here I sit
listening to Chubby Checker
twisting again like he did

last summer. I see my husband's
yellow cap stuck under a hood.
I'm typing away in the present.

3WW: Drab, Pulsate, Tendril

Finally

All the blinds
are closed.
The drab dawn

sits like fog
outside my windows.
Inside, tendrils

of sunshine
wrap around my brain.
I'm writing a poem.

Words pulsate
on the tips
of my fingers.

Tap, tap, tap...
Black on white.
Smile, smile, smile.

Mud for Sunday Scribblings

Mud

Mix imagination
with the water
of words

Add in a slice
of morning
sunshine

Stir with the spoon
of emotions
until soupy

Drop in a tear
or two
for salty sass

Serve it in bone
china teacups
with cream

to soften
the impact.
Hit "publish."

3WW: Dignity, Lacerate, Ripe

Trees

Leaves
ripe as apples

Vines
cling like a child

Bark
a coat of dignity

Branches
pray

My husband
was a logger

He'd pull
the cord

on his
chainsaw

and lacerate
one by one

Saplings
smiled

lifting
their faces

to the naked
sun.

3WW: Affair, Expectation, Free

Sharp slices
of brightness
slash my morning
blinds.

I'm sitting in bed
with no expectation
of anything
for today.

Free hours
are maple syrup
sticky and sweet.
I should get up,

open the blinds,
make breakfast.
Instead, I've begun
an affair with laziness.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Distance for Sunday Scribblings

The boat rocks.
Birds fly around
eating the chum
my husband
put out.

We sit,
waiting for a tuna
to take our bait.
"I blind the mackerel,"
he says, "because

if they see a tuna
coming, they'll
try to avoid it."
I picture
that fish

doomed to swim
around and around,
go nowhere
and, now, can't
even see

the aqua bubbles,
the sun melting
through the water,
other fish,
and his death.

We are quiet.
"I wish you hadn't
told me that,"
I say through
the lump

in my throat.
He laughs.
I get up
but there is no
place to go.

I need to put distance
between us,
The sun blinds me.
I can't see how
to get away.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

3WW: Feel, Shade, Tangle

I know there is a poem
resting in the shade
of my brain.

I can feel its shadow
lurking just
out of sight.

It's an angry thing,
a monster,
waiting for the right

moment to lumber
awake, stomp the ground,
untangle itself

from the branches
of sweetness
I've so carefully

arranged around it.
I hear it grunting,
feel the vibrations

of its snort, smell
the stink of its truth.
I peer at it,

try to bring it into
focus, but it slinks away,
that cowardly lion

of resentment.
Not yet, not yet, it says
but soon.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad