Chores for TOP

For Christmas my daughter gave everyone Swivel Sweepers. We all joked about them because we'd seen them advertised on TV. Then we tried them and fell in love.
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Ode to the Swivel Sweeper

You lean nonchalantly
against the wall
at the bottom of the stairs,

a patient lover,
waiting for the touch
of my hands.

I wrap my fingers
around the handle
and fondle your switch.

You buzz to life,
sashaying,
doing the housework
dance.

You bend first one way
then slide to the other,
back and forth
our steps in sync.

You nibble at flecks
of sawdust and lint,
tucking them
in your pocket.

When the dance floor
is clean, I turn the music
off and lead you back
home,

a perfect date,
asking nothing
in return.

Avenge Genuine Ramble for 3WW

When we were dating,
my husband had a 1957 Rambler.
All our friends were envious
because the back of the front seat

reclined to meet the back seat.
It wasn’t a genuine bed
but, we were teenagers,
and it was the next best thing.

And, honestly, I’m too tired
tonight to write anything decent.
This poem is going nowhere
unlike us when we’d go parking.

P.S. There is no way
I’m going to get avenge in here!
Hope the rest of you
Are doing better than me.

Anaphora for TOP

I bought a book of poetry
because I was in a bookstore.

I bought a book of poetry
because it jumped off the shelf
and into my arms.

I bought a book of poetry
because poetry is the moon
to my sun.

I bought a book of poetry
because I needed shelter
from the winds of life.

I bought a book of poetry
because I was on vacation
and it was an inexpensive treat.

I bought a book of poetry
because, when I opened it,
I smelled a whiff of prayer.

Twilight in Berlin, NH for One Single Impression

All day you scowled
grumbling about this and that
Finally, at five

we sat to relax
opened a bottle of wine
and you smiled at me

The gray clouds of life
turned to lavender and slipped
behind the mountains.

Poetry Train: Anger is an undressing

Nick is one of my students. He was abused horribly as a kid and now has anger management issues. Unfortunately, no one told me about this and I used the wrong tone of voice with him and he blew! He called me every name in the book, threw his Othello book across the room into the back wall, and kicked my garbage can and every locker on his way to the office.

I've been teaching for almost thirty years and nothing like this has ever happened in my classroom before. I was majorly upset but, the next day, when I'd had time to absorb it and after learning about his background, I wrote the following poem.
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Anger is an undressing
and you disrobed
in front of my eyes,
not slowly
but all at once~
buttons flying
cotton ripping
zippers screeching.

Today
I wish I had
soft yarn
and could knit
a sweater
for you.

Trust for Sunday Scribblings

The sun was busy
making sharp shadows
on the early evening
mountains

when Gary suggested
we fly to Martha’s Vineyard
for a couple nights
of R&R.

I packed quickly
and we were airborne
in an hour, he piloting,
me awed

by the Monoply houses,
Hot Wheels vehicles,
and ant people
below.

Suddenly, with about
a half hour to go,
the land disappeared
into gauze

and we were alone,
hanging like a falling leaf
in the middle
of the foggy sky.

I suggested we turn around
but Gary said not to worry;
he knew what to do.
I freaked, anyway.

To calm me down,
he gave me the job
of looking out
for the lights

of the airport.
There was just the sound
of the engine,
and the thick gray

swirling around us.
I imagined us crashing
into the ocean or
the land.

Gray, gray, gray
then…ghostly glows.
Lights! We were right
on course.

We landed. They closed
the airport. Since then
I’ve flown miles
of skies

with him, through storms
through blue, through night.
Trust looks like a leaf
landing gently

and safely
onto the soft
floor
of the earth.

Naisaiku: Under Quilts

Impulses, yearnings,
managed risks, and candid love~
pieces of romance
UNDER QUILTS
pieces of romance,
managed risks, and candid love~
impulses, yearnings.