Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Laundry for TOP


When Kylie
comes to visit,
I like to wash
her clothes
and hang them
on the line.

Her little Levis
next to Grampy’s:
long and short
blue legs
kicking the breeze.

Her ruffled white shirt
near my plain
black one:
piano keys
tapping out
a timeless

Two clothespins
hold Dora the Explorer
Her panties
have ears!

Her tiny pink socks
in between
our longer ones:
wagging tongues
carrying on
a conversation
in the Downy-scented air.

The clothesline
sags in the middle,

3WW: Fracture, Noise, Vanish

from your angry
mouth fracture the moonlight.
Feelings shatter into shards, then

Thursday, August 20, 2009

3WW: Decay, Riot, Graceful & TOP: From Here to There

Morning surfs
into my bedroom
on a butter knife

in between the shade
and the window
creating a riot

of sun pixels
on my quilt,
prompting me

to get up
and write a poem.
But a heavy arm

imprisons me,
pulls me back
into graceful shadows

away from the light
and another poem
dissipates and decays

into scattered words
while I ride a wave
back into night.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

E is for Epithalamion

Epithalamion (ep a tha LAY me in): a song or poem in honor of a bride and groom.

I wrote this for my daughter's wedding two years ago. I folded it and thought I'd put it in my pocket so I could read it to them at the service. When the JP asked if anyone had anything to say, I put my hand in my pocket but the poem wasn't there. In the rush of getting ready, I'd accidentally put it in the book I was reading instead of my pocket. I was so mad at myself. I didn't find it until a month later. And I still haven't shown it to them. After I finish this post, I'm going to print it out and mail it to them. 'Bout time!

BTW, my daughter's name is Erin Elizabeth

You can see more E things at ABC Wednesday.
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Epithalamion: A Few Words for Erin and Shaun

It’s a cold icy day
at sugarloaf.

Erin, Gloria and I
are making our way
carefully down
a slope
that is not treating
us very well.

Seven-year-old Erin
gets frustrated,
plops down on the snow,
throws her ski poles
off her wrists,

plunks her chin
on her fist
and refuses
to go on.

Gloria and I try
not to laugh
as she whines
and cries.

Finally, she picks
herself up,
puts her ski poles
back on and continues
down the slope.

Today, she’s doing
the same thing
as she maneuvers
the ski slope
of life.

Sometimes the trail
is smooth and smiling

and sometimes it’s not.

But how lucky
she is to have
Shaun skiing by her side,
to help her when she falls,
to find
her ski poles
and put them back on,
to pick her up,
wipe the snow
from her clothes,
and, together,
make it
to the bottom.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Poetry Train: Can I See you in the Kitchen?

Someone says, “Can I see you in the kitchen?”

And I answer,
“Yes, the light
coming in through
the small window
makes it possible
for you to see me.

Well, on the outside
of me, anyway:
my jeans
with the worn-out knees
from scrubbing
the kitchen floor,
the oversized fleece
that is so comfy,
my hair
pulled up
with a clip.

But, even a huge
picture window
won’t let you see
what’s inside
and I know you
don’t like to read.

If you’d said, ‘Can I
see you in your poems?’
then you’d know
who I really am.

So, sure, I’ll stand
in the kitchen
with the light
all over me
but I’ll still be
invisible to you.”

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Dinner Party for Sunday Scribblings

The table is set
with Mom’s

you remember
the ones with
the gray roses

tipped with a blush
of pink to match
the tablecloth

slowly you begin
to materialize
first Dad

sniffing the air
to make sure
we’re not having

any spicy foods
Grampy marches in
ordering everyone

around then Nonie
(you are still so beautiful)
sits down gracefully

you hand me a plate
piled high
with donuts

and I can smell
the nutmeg
Memere and Pepere

enter quietly
like clouds and sunshine
smile, Memere!

Uncle Bob, distinguished
and Uncle George

drink in hand
take their places
we eat what we always

ate: fluffy mashed potatoes,
fresh string beans,
and a beef roast

we talk and laugh
and reminisce
just after the lemon

meringue pie
you start to dissipate
like the steam

rising from the coffee
cups I clean up,
do the dishes

and later nibble
on one of those
plain donuts.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

3WW: Capture, Jinx, Qualify

I don’t want to jinx
the capture of his tuna.
I qualify words.
Must qualify words
so he’ll capture his tuna
without being jinxed.

Update: 9 PM

He got it! It took 7 1/2 hours but he finally got the tuna on the boat. He thinks it weighs between 600-800 lbs. That's a big one! I'm off to meet him at the dock to take some pictures.

Talking about it didn't jinx him. Phew!

Totally Optional Prompts: Beach Thoughts

Ocean Park Beach, Maine August 13, 2009

four men playing Bocce

two little boys
and two little girls
building a sandcastle

a taildragger
trailing a banner:

a fog bank
sitting like an angora
elephant just offshore

my feet
sifting through

the shadow of my pencil
on white lined paper,
beach thoughts
flowing through

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

3WW: Accentuate, Glamour, Pitch

An Annoyance Sandwich with a Side of Glamour

Pitch pines
surround our camp,
accentuate problems,
write calligraphy on the sky,
and drip.

Monday, August 3, 2009

ABC Wednesday: C is for Carry

Darn, I'm already late with this round. I had such good intentions, too.

Click to see more ABC Wednesday submissions.
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Carry Me Back

…to the house
we rented
on Papailoa Drive
in Haliewa, Hawaii
during the winter
of 1992

…to fresh pineapple
chunks waiting
on the cupboard
for the kids
when they got home
from school

…to windows
full of the ocean

…to Erin building
sandcastles on the beach
and Nathan surfing
in the waves

…to liquid sunshine
followed by rainbows

…to footprints
trailing away
in the sand

…to five months
of heaven.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Sunday Scribblings: Anticipate

Flies land like raindrops
on the mirror canal.

A foot-long fish
jumps for supper

making the reflection
of trees shimmer.

Evening settles
like a shawl

on my mother’s shoulders.
Then Erin calls

and asks me to baby sit
Kylie next weekend.

I smile in anticipation:
oldest to youngest.

The sun sets
behind lemon clouds.

I grab my camera
and snap away the day.
Linda's Poems