Friday, June 27, 2008

Write Like Summer

Totally Optional Prompts June 26, 2008
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I slap them
in the face
as soon as they
leave the airport,
wrap my boa arms
around them
and squeeze.

I’m the fat aunt
who visits
and won’t leave.

They try to escape
from me
into air-conditioning
but I sit outside
their door,

As soon as they
come out, I wipe
myself off on them,
spritzing my cologne

At night you can hear
my laughter turn to growls
and see
my eyes flash
with a bit of anger.

I feel
sorry for myself
and shed a few tears.
But in the morning
I'll still be sitting
right there,
ready to latch
onto them like
a chubby chimp
and they'll haul me around
all day.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Revision for Read Write Poem

“Unkindness may do much; and his unkindness may defeat my life, but never taint my love.”

This is a quote from Othello. It was an assignment my 10th grade kids had to do: take a quote from act 4 of the play and write a poem about their own lives using it.
It all boils down to kindness
Because “unkindness may do much”

As I walk into the house
After school, I see a few
Pots and pans sitting on the
Stove waiting to be put in their
Proper storage place, and I
Know my husband has emptied
The dishwasher for me.

The act of kindness, incomplete
Though it is, warms me
And I appreciate him.
It all boils down to kindness
Because “unkindness may do much”

And I think of how much he has changed.
Years ago those dishes would never
Have been taken care of until I got
Around to it.

And it killed me, this lack of consideration
I thought that “his unkindness may defeat
my life”
But I didn’t let it.
Instead I suggested by example
And I never gave up on the
Inate goodness I knew was
Lurking in his big heart.

I never let his unkindness
“taint my love”

And now I marvel at the precise
Way he piled those homeless
Pots and pans, imagining his
Hands arranging them according
To size: carefully, kindly.

And here's my revisioning of it. I knew I wanted to get the quotes out because they tell instead of show. I hated that "suggesting by example" line. Yuck! So, that definitely had to go.

As I walk into the house
after school, I see a few
pots and pans sitting on the stove
waiting to be put away
and I know my husband
has emptied
the dishwasher for me.

This act of kindness,
is sweeter than
his favorite
chocolate cake
with boiled frosting
I think I’ll bake
for him.

Years ago those dishes
would never
have been taken care of
until I got around
to it.

But now I marvel
at the precise way
he piled those homeless
pots and pans,
imagining his hands
putting the smaller pots
into place
inside the larger frying pans,
fingers slipping around
their smooth sides.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Happy Ending for Sunday Scribblings

Something to Hold Onto

It’s such a simple thing,
the touching of hands:
the trust
between a child and adult,
the tickle-thrill of lovers’
fingers speaking
in Braille,
the enormity of a slap.

Hands are mouths
and tools
and birds.

When my husband
lays his hand
palm up
on the elbow rest
between our two seats
as we’re on our way
to camp in our school-bus
yellow 1979 Ford Ranchero,
I rest my hand there,
softly, gently,
and the sun
comes out between us.

Monday, June 16, 2008

What's Going On?

Well, we made it to camp for the summer. School finished last Friday and we were here by 6 pm with the boat towed behind us.
It's been mostly raining since!
Tomorrow, we are supposed to go to Bike Week in Laconia, NH. I've never been so it should be interesting.
Then on Thursday we are heading to Florida for 10 days. Several years ago we bought a house there for our retirement but hurricane Charley totaled it. We rebuilt so want to use the house for a little bit, at least. We still have three years before we retire. Until then my mother-in-law uses the house for a few months in the winter.
Anyway, I haven't had much chance to write poetry.

Sunday, June 8, 2008


For Writer's Island
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Blue and trucks,
No pink, certainly.

Convinced you are a boy,
Dominic Derek.
Who can argue
with the needle test?
And a slow heartbeat?
And that thing
we saw
when you moved
during your ultrasound?

We knew you were a boy,
a new little snowboarder,
a fisherman.
There you were in your father’s arms,
love dripping from his eyes.

My little girl
now a mother
gathered in my arms
sharing the knowledge
of labor and pain
and birthing a son.

Big eyes,
a smile full of wonder,
words that float
in the air
but don’t penetrate.
“Mom, it’s a girl!”

A girl?
My ears are ready
for blue words;
they don’t comprehend
these pink birds
finally finding a home
in my heart.

Ruffles and dolls

Saturday, June 7, 2008

The Night

For Sunday Scribblings. Okay, this isn't technically night but any time after school feels like night to me.
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It’s Five O’clock in the Afternoon

And the day becomes velvet.
The slippery silk of day
softens into a merlot twilight.

I change from school clothes
into my pajamas,
the navy blue ones with stars and moons.
Then I slip my feet into puffy slippers
and go downstairs to putter.

I move slowly through
the thick after-school air,
let it buoy me as I bump
against its soft edges.

A little cooking
A little reading
and a glass of wine.

Five o’clock embraces
me in its flannel arms.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Deny Smile Uncomfortable.

Well, it's the end of the school year and my mom is living with us for a few weeks so I haven't have much time for writing. Here's a little haiku using the three words:
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You smiled at a girl.
That made me uncomfortable.
You deny. I know.
Linda's Poems