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.