for Writer's Island: Fireflies

Memories
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Fireflies
winking against
the blackboard
of night

caught
in the jar
of our minds

We are kids
with flashlights
hunting for
nightcrawlers
(wink)

We are teenagers
on a blanket
under pine trees
(wink) (wink)

We are parents
watching fireworks
on the fourth of July,
holding hands
as the kids twirl
their sparklers
(winking)

We are middle aged
parking in a corn field,
where one of us
loses his wallet.
The stars (wink) at us
and blush.

And, now, at almost 60
we unscrew the cap
and watch the fireflies
dance to the evening song
of our memories.

A Winter's Tale for Sunday Scribblings

In June, I’ll froth out
in lavender cones

but, now, I’m at rest
watching the snow

inch up on my boughs.
See my black branches

silhouetted against
the blue eye of the sky.

I’m covered with a layer
of shiny ice

just biding my time,
knowing this deep freeze

is necessary for rebirth.
I remember when Linda

was on a sailing vacation
in Florida one January

and the sail boat got grounded
near a beautiful garden.

The kind owner invited
her in and Linda marveled

over the winter blossoms.
The owner replied,

“Oh, but you have lilacs.”
I am the spring of winter.

Kyrielle for TOP

A kyrielle is a poem in which a refrain is repeated at the end of each stanza. Some kyrielles rhyme and some are written in a certain rhythm. Mine isn't.
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For Those Kids Too Lazy to Get Their Butts out of Bed in the Morning

The black flowers of cancer
blossomed twice in her brain:
chemo, radiation, baldness.
But still in school every day.

Imagine being sixteen
and wearing a colostomy bag:
weight loss, nausea, embarrassment.
But still in school every day.

Born with Marfan’s Syndrome
distorted muscles, a weak heart:
difficulty breathing, walking, learning.
But still in school every day.

Bone cancer like a wildfire
eating her up from the inside:
operations, treatments, hopelessness.
But still in school every day.

Blessed with tree trunks of health,
with every reason to enjoy life:
strong and sturdy and smart.
But still you skip school many days.

3WW: Fury, Quilt, thankful

Fury
Quilt
Thankful
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The fury of love
is sewn with thankful stitches
into the quilt of life.

Poem Using the Letter V

I had my kids grab a dictionary, go to a letter, and pick out 8 words that struck their fancy. Then they had to write a poem incorporating all the words. I chose V and picked the following words:

vacuum vague valuable valentine vibration violet volt vulture

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Men can be such vultures
floating on updrafts
of women’s weaknesses.

Sometimes their intentions
are vague and fade
into the violet dusk

while at other times
they are as voracious
as vacuum cleaners

sucking the marrow
out of anything we
consider valuable.

Women can live without
these volts of jealousy
from insecure men;

we don’t need their valentine
lies that are just
vibrations of neediness.

Sound for TOP

I have no idea how to incorporate sound for my poetry so here's a poem I wrote about my granddaughter, Kylie's, first smiles.

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The Sound of a Smile

I hear music

when you smile,

notes tinkling

in the air

and swirling

in a merry dance.

On this day

in cold February

the tune

was a summer

waltz, slow

and easy,

thawing out

our winter

hearts.

Grateful for Sunday Scribblings

I'm Grafeful For

The pink baby blanket
clouds behind the black
skeleton of trees

that I see outside
my living room window
right now.

Decent grades for my
lower level class
on their spelling

quiz today with only
one student spelling
“grateful” wrong.

(Parentheses of alone time)

The glass of merlot
that sits next to me:
liquid garnet.

The quiet, like a sauna,
that surrounds me
as I write this poem.

(Alone time)

The warm fleece that is family.
The umbrella of friends.
The heartbeat of books.

Pats on the back
from bloggers.
And at the end of the day

the sound of my husband’s
diesel engine pulling
into the driveway.