Abby and Olive, Four Years Old - NaPoWriMo Day 19

Prompt:  Write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet.

Abby and Olive, Four Years Old

Abby 
Blowing bubbles
Crying 
Doctor tools on the coffee table
Energy
Fighting
Grandpa's gum
Hide and seek 
I spy with my little eye
Jelly sandwiches
Kitties 
Laughing 
Mimi's house 
No 
Olive 
Play-doh
"Quiet, the baby's sleeping!"
Running, running, running
Swings
Training wheels
Under the dining room table
Vanilla ice cream cones
Washing dishes
Xtra 
Yellow crayon
Zipping it myself.

Second try:

Abby and Olive, Four Years Old

Abby is
Blowing bubbles, then before you know it, 
Crying over the 
Doctor tools on the coffee table.  So much
Energy, and sometimes 
Fighting, ended by an offering of 
Grandpa's gum.  Playing games of 
Hide and seek and
I spy with my little eye.  For lunch, 
Jelly sandwiches;  grape, please.
Kitties lounging on the stairs scare us, but then we
Laugh and fill their food dishes.  Not scary. 
Mimi's house is where we seldom hear
No.  
Olive is careful with her
Play-doh.
"Quiet, the baby's sleeping!"
Running, running, running, then to the
Swings.  Pink bikes with 
Training wheels.  Camping
Under the dining room table.  Time for a treat of 
Vanilla ice cream cones.  Making a puddle in the kitchen
Washing dishes.  More
Xtra gum.  We both want to color with a
Yellow crayon.  Now.  Can you
Zip it yourself?

Under the Bus - NaPoWriMo day 17

Prompt:  Write a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view. Perhaps you could write a poem that presents Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery from the perspective of the apple. Or the shootout at the OK Corral from the viewpoint of a passing vulture. Or maybe it could be something as everyday as a rainstorm, as experienced by a raindrop.

Under the Bus

(With thanks to Clark Brown for the idea...)

Here I lie. 
The pavement is cold
Thick dark oil drips on my shin
Leaking from somewhere important
I would guess,
Not actually knowing anything
About engines.
Or chassis.
Someone, it seems
Had to 
Stomp down the aisle
As they searched out a seat.

Here I lie.
Through no fault of my own,
I don't think,
Not actually knowing anything
About scandal.
Or rumors.
Yet thick accusations dripped on my head.
Someone, it seemed,
Had to take the blame.
Be stomped on.
Lose their seat.

Tax Day - NaPoWriMO Day 15

Prompt:  write your own dramatic monologue. It doesn’t have to be quite as serious as Browning or Shakespeare, of course, but try to create a sort of specific voice or character that can act as the “speaker” of your poem, and that could be acted by someone reciting the poem.

Tax Day

Forsooth, forshame; I hate this game
Thou plays with the IRS.
Tell'st me why, Tho' thou always comply
Thou waitest 'til the 15th to confess
The income and wages from W-2 pages
Of both your career and mine?
(Although mine quite meager) Thou'st never too eager
To complete them and then to sign
Our names, jointly filing, ere hours compiling
And cursing percentages taken;
'Tis true, 'tis inflated, and perchance unjustly weighted
'Gainst those who bring home middle class bacon;
Though hardly ever we owe, it just goes to show
Thine stubborn streak wide, yet not appalling; 
Be thou up in arms, I am "mistress of your charms"*
And love thee in spite of thine tax stalling. 

*from Hecate's monologue in Macbeth, Act 3, Scene 5
"Hark! I am called. My little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me."

Eye No Nothing about Sailing - NaPoWriMo Day 14

Prompt: Write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings.

Eye No Nothing About Sailing


"It's just not right!"
Said the frustrated wright
As he tied the knot on his sail;
"I was taught to keep it taut!"
And then shouted "I see a whale!"

But he heard his wife wail weakly 
And he spied her through the mist;
She had missed the spectacle completely,
She'd had six pints - on sale at the pub!
And their weekly sail was soon dismissed

As he dropped the riggings and flew to her side
"I think I have the flu!" she cried
And just as he wondered,
"What the heck?"
The wretch retched onto the deck

He stood on the bow 
And held on to her braid
His eyes wandered to see the mess she had made;
Puke on the bow tied in her hair;
In the sea, the tide carried her vomit everywhere. 

Plantively she brayed,
"This, of course, will sound quite coarse, 
But I thought just as I was yaking,
Although I ate eight puddings at lunch,
You jibed but should have been tacking!"

And with her groan, sigh and complaining
His disgust had grown without explaining!
Her heaving now through -  but awful -
He considered that if he threw her over the side - 
For the whale she'd be nothing but offal.

And yet he knew that in the morning 
He would be mourning her demise!

This sweet maid he had made his wife -
Why, he'd be a heel to drown her!
He needed to heal her every ail!
"I will never desert you," he cried
"But pass up the ale and desserts next sail!"

Dull Little Knife - NaPoWriMo Day 12

Prompt:  Write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. 

Dull Little Knife

I have a little knife
I keep in the knife drawer
It used to cut a lot of things
But doesn't any more.

Oh, I could slide it down a steel
Or draw it over a stone;
I was taught to sharpen knives
To cut through meat and bone

Or a hundred chicken livers
Hiding connective tissue strands;
Berta taught me to find and detach them
Despite how cold my hands

Were searching for livers in ice cold water
In the Temple kitchen sink.
She was pleased with my knife skills
And liver cleaning, I think

For each week when I got to work
I was grossed out to see
That while others iced cakes and stuffed dumplings
The livers were left for me.

"You do it so well! We hope you don't mind."
And I'd smile and do it despite
How offensive the task
Because I knew at the end of the night

We'd feast on leftover brisket and kugel,
Thick slices of challah with honey,
Apple cake and even chopped liver with schmaltz - 
You see, this job was more than just money

For the poor English graduate students
Who worked on this catering crew;
Berta taught history, theology, cookery -
She was so proud of being a Jew

That we left Temple Israel each night - 
Feasting and cleaning complete - 
Wishing that we were Jewish, too,
Not just for the good things to eat.

And what of that dull little knife
That remains in the back of the drawer?
It led to this chicken liver remembering poem -
Maybe not so dull any more. 
  

From Shit - NaPoWriMo Day 11

Prompt:  Write a poem of origin. Where are you from?   And having come from there, where are you now?

From Shit
(this one is a little unrefined...)

Figuratively, 
I am from sunshine and flowers.
Norman Rockwell and The Waltons.
Every meal around the table.
Christmas with cousins.
Birthday cake carousels.
Wading in the creek.

Literally, I am from shit.

Chicken shit
Pig shit
Cow shit

Shit I shoveled
Pushed
Hauled

Shit from animals
Sold to pay my tuition

Shit from animals
Spread onto fields
To grow crops
Sold to pay for my wedding

Shit from animals
Spread onto fields
Minus one acre
Sold for one dollar
One acre for our house

With cows on three sides
Where our children could grow up
Smelling, but never shoveling
Shit. 

Oh, To Be British - NaPoWriMo Day 10

Prompt:  Write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon. 

Oh, To Be British

Two years ago today
We were on holiday in London.

Full English breakfast
Tinned beans and black pudding
Taking the tube to see the Crown Jewels and
Brooding over The Princes in the Tower then
Hearing Big Ben
Crossing the Westminster Bridge
Strolling the Queen's Walk along the Thames
(Glad I had worn my trainers!) 
Stopping at Tesco for plasters
Stopping in at the pub for a pint
Crossing the Millennium Bridge
Gawking at St. Paul's 
Taking the tube back to Paddington Station
Eating tikka masala for supper
Falling in to bed completely knackered. 

We had seen Wordsworth's daffodils and
The Brontes' village and
Peter Rabbit's garden and
Rowling's favorite pub. 

Castles
Churches
Castles
Churches
Gardens gardens gardens

Driving on the wrong side of the road
Mastering reverse roundabouts
Throwing our luggage in the boot
Floating on an unexpected ferry.

Afternoon tea with a biscuit
Peri peri chicken at the motorway service area
Tuna salad with corn and a bag of crisps
Fish and chips
But not the takeaway.  
Never the takeaway.

And not once did it tipple down
Not once did I need my brolly
or the mac I had packed. 

Things Found in My Workroom - NaPoWriMo Day 9

Prompt:  Write your own Sei Shonagon-style list of “things.” 

Things Found in My Workroom

Currently:
A very nice sewing machine
72 spools of thread, mostly cotton
1 pair of sharp fabric scissors
6 pair of not-so-sharp scissors
4 boxes of fabric, loosely sorted by weight and color
3 unfinished quilts
1 box of mending
37 skeins of wool, worsted weight
52 skeins of wool, two-ply
12 skeins of sport-weight cotton
8 skeins of kitchen cotton
4 skeins of yarn from India of unknown fiber content
43 rolls of washi tape
1 box of scrapbook paper
3 pads of drawing paper
62 colored pencils
12 water color pencils
1 cabinet full of assorted crafty things
1 closet full of assorted crafty things
1 comfy chair
1 fluffy rug

After I die:
A very nice sewing machine
Yarn and a bunch of other shit

Good Will at the Goodwill - NaPoWriMo Day 7

Prompt:  Gifts and Joy

Good Will at the Goodwill

Forty-one thousand four hundred forty.
Sometimes I add up all the stitches
Of a project
I have knitted.

One hundred and twenty-seven.
Times I remembered to jot
Down the details of
Something I knitted.

Over one hundred and twenty seven.
Times I gave away - to
A friend or someone I'll never know
At a hospital or
At the border - something
I have knitted. 

Once.
I found a scarf
I had knitted
In a bin
At the Goodwill and
I remembered the yarn -
Expensive,
Silk and alpaca
Running through my fingers
Onto the needles.

One hundred percent
Sure I didn't run that scarf through
The washer
And
The dryer
Before wrapping it in tissue and
Slipping it into a gift bag.

Fifty cents
Later
A matted scarf
On my worktable.

One hundred twenty-eight:
"A set of four felted coasters
Cut from a Goodwill scarf,
Buttonhole embroidery around
The edges."

Haiku to an Easter Dress - NaPoWriMo Day 6

Prompt:  Write a poem of the possible, focusing squarely not on what has happened, or what will happen, but on what might happen if the conditions are right.

Haiku to an Easter Dress

No carbs for six weeks

Talbot's dress in my closet

Two sizes too small

If You Knew - NaPoWriMo Day 4

Prompt - A Sad Poem

If You Knew

If you knew,
Would you talk to me more carefully?
Avoid future conversations?
Avoid me all together?
I would understand.  I get it.

If you knew,
Would you cry?
Ask me to tell you more?
Want to know every little detail?
Would you compare your grief to mine?
I'd win, I promise.

If you knew,
Would you hug me tight?
Let the silence be?
Wait for me?

This is the problem with
Inexplicable sadness.
Overwhelming grief.
Unfathomable heartbreak.
When you know it
You can never stop knowing.

I Blame Myself - NaPoWriMo Day 3

Prompt:  An Unfolding Story


I Blame Myself

I looked out our picture window
To see the neighbor's herd of Angus
Hurriedly flock toward the south
Like a murmuration of starlings
And right behind them
The tornado
And I screamed like a 14-year-old
Girl screams
When she's scared
And we all
Went to the basement
And listened as it howled
Past our farm.

We sat in the hallway of the
High school
With hundreds of other parents and little
Tap dancers and ballerinas as a fleet of tornadoes
Roared through our county
Disrupting Sarah's very first dance recital
And I shivered as Maggie sat on my lap
And on Clay's lap
And on my lap
And on Clay's lap
And screamed like a two-year-old
Girl screams
When she's scared
And a woman way down the hall
Died of a heart attack.

Super Duper Doppler Radar
Triggers our panic a full day ahead
Of the weather front
And blankets
And flashlights and snacks are
Hauled downstairs in
Anticipation and plans are altered
And appointments are cancelled
As we gather in the basement
In frightened fellowship but
There is no screaming because we are
Grown-ass mother and daughter who
Refuse to pass our panic on to those
Who are happy for this chance to
Poke around in Mimi's basement.

Sometimes still I wake up and
Think I am screaming at a tornado.

Accident on 31 - NaPoWriMo Day 2

Prompt - Question

Accident on US 31

I saw the swirling cloud of dust ahead of me and thought
"Isn't it early for them to be in the fields?"
"Where'd that dust come from, didn't it rain yesterday?"
"What's up with the brake lights up there?"

And then in the middle of the
Just-happened accident.
Conjoined car and truck to my left
Jewels of windshield glass on my
Side of the road.

Don't look, keep driving.
Don't look, keep driving.
Don't look, keep driving.

Get out of the way, you are no help.
Others with cell phones were running
And as happens every once in a while
When there's a high temperature or an
Unexplained rash, I wish I had listened to
My mother when she asked "Why don't you
Think about nursing school?"
Get out of the way, you are no help.

Don't look, keep driving.
Jewels of windshield glass
Crunched under my tires
Get out of the way
You should have stopped at Target.

Don't look
What if that light at the intersection of 7 and 31
Had been green?

How To Cut Your Husband's Hair - NaPoWriMo Day 1

Prompt:  Instructions

How to Cut Your Husband's Hair

It will seem like a regular evening.
After a nice supper
You'll be sitting on your
Sides of the couch
Maybe you'll each have a book
Or you'll watch TV
Or be on your phones playing 
Words With Friends with each other
While the Scrabble board sits 
On the game shelf.
And you might look over at him
And think, Oh, he's cute
In his little glasses and the 
Soft greys sprinkled through
His still dark hair and eyebrows
And one side of his chest.
And you might remember 
That in 1979 his hair was long and
Thick and parted in the middle 
And beautiful and 
Was the perfect complement to the
Black velvet suit and wide red tie.
And you might take a moment to say a
Little prayer of thanks that
Your children were blessed with his hair
And his no-nonsense approach to life
And he might notice you noticing
And he'll look over and say, "Hey,
Would you want to cut my hair tonight?"
And you'll think of taking the clippers
To the soft hair that really is
The perfect length at this very moment
And how the clippers will turn him into 
Gus Grissom
And how, even through you've cut his hair
Every six weeks or so for
The last three years it
Still makes you nervous to take that 
First swipe and watch the tufts of
Hair fall from the clippers into his
Cupped and waiting hands
And even though it drives you a little crazy
When he reminds you 
As he always does of which
Number comb to snap onto the clippers
For which part of his head
And even when you pull a $20 from
Your purse and slap it on the counter and say "Here,
Go to a f*&#ing barber," when he
Smiles at you and says "But I like when
You cut my hair" you say
Sure.