Posts for June 28, 2023 (page 5)

Registration photo of Jazzy for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Yellow Roses 

Roses

Yellow as the sun

Feelings of warmth fill my soul

It’s the love that shines

Between your heart and mine

Yellow roses shine like the sun

Marking our anniversary

14-karat gold

Roses are forever


Category
Poem

key to a coffee shop

a brand new city
and i have a key to the coffee shop
next door. 

my birthday was twenty-six days
after we moved four hundred miles from home.

i expected to spend a lovely day
with my partner
and my cats. 
and i did! 
and then i spent a lovely evening
with my coworkers
who are now my friends. 

they bought me wonderful,
personal gifts,
which could have moved me to tears.
not only are these friends good,
but they know me. 
they know me because
they listened when
i told them about
myself. 

after so many years of wondering who i am,
guarding my interests carefully
in case they aren’t good enough for strangers,
here i am,
in a new city,
knowing myself. 
here i am, in a new city,
freely sharing myself with others. 

it seems so simple now. 

but for some reason
i needed a chance to reinvent myself
to find myself for the first time. 

i needed a new city
and a key to a coffee shop.


Category
Poem

being

My parents taught
me often & well so
I learned early I
should not speak
ill of the dead but
I only under-

stand the directive
more clearly now
in this stage of
living & breathing
since & be-

cause I fall
closer to that
unwielding
precipice be-

tween light &
dark, between
life & death, be-

tween being
& not


Category
Poem

To the Man Who Bought Aunt Gertie’s Trailer

How delirious you made us!  

Aunt Gertie’s trailer on the market only 2 hours and sold at asking price. We were stunned.

Off the road, a tad shabby, huddled among the pines, the trailer’s allure was lost on us. But you had cash in hand, and we sensed no villain in you.  

My sister and I put champagne on ice and pondered a cruise:
Big floppy hats or broad brimmed straw ones?
How many jumbo pink crustaceans could we eat?  (Elastic waistbands suddenly dawned as miracles)
Could we finagle our way to the captain’s table? (We’d take a Jean Luc Picard stance with Brad Pitt grin)
How glorious would our suntans be?
A panorama of exotic drink umbrellas suddenly opened like grand souvenirs  

In the middle of our bubbly champagne binge, the local tv news spit out your name. Shared a video of your arrest, the drug money you paid to the realtor seized by the feds. And we, the latest victims of the meth trade, were left sinking in our Love Boat illusions, our exotic umbrellas bobbing forlornly out to sea.  


Registration photo of Katie Hassall for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Vacation Planning

Vacation planning is so much fun
there is the tingle of anticipation
along with the magic of imagination
and the thrill of excitement 

While sometimes the actual trip
isn’t the perfect time that we plan,
a lot of time, just leaving the driveway
puts you into vacation mode and relaxation begins

I am a bit late planning this year,
but am excited about not only the trip, but 
getting the process started helps me to release 
stress and rejuvenate long before the trip begins

It’s almost like I have given myself permission
to dream, to relax, to concentrate on having fun
and getting out to enjoy the sun
in preparation for vacation

Although the summmer is going by too fast,
the magic is not lost and the atmosphere is
beginning to envelop me as the first step
has been taken, the vacation planning!


Registration photo of Matt F. for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

No Snow in Elko

Lyrics lost

Stripped like a bone tree

There is no snow in Elko but

What you can see is that you do this to me.


Category
Poem

from my veranda

morning mist dissipates
mountains become clear
cup of black rifle coffee
lorca’s translation saturates
my soul with a song
a dove coos as the sun rises
over the distant hillsides
it is well with my soul


Category
Poem

Dichotomy

Ocean beach views
Of sailboats, sun and sparkling waters
High rise condo 

Alone with her Alzeheminer’s seeping in–

Once she picked sweet strawberries 
Far, far away, long ago
At home. 


Registration photo of Kat Cody for the LexPoMo 2023 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Chimney Rock

 
Chimney Rock, November 1998
_________________________________________________
On the edge of Chimney Rock,
I watch the mountains jut their hard edges into sharp focus,
then fade into plum-colored mounds,
each tucked tightly against the next.
My feet dangle over Red River Gorge,
strain to touch the treetops smeared across each mountain.
Their spindly branches give the surface
a fuzzy glow from this distance.
Beside me a pine tree grows, its roots snaked over rock.
Thick, intestine-like tenticles hug tightly
to the mountain,
plunge into the dirt just above the stone as
serpentine offspring thread their way underground, form a system of veins and capillaries
which runs throughout this summit.
If I sat here long enough, perhaps the roots would overtake me as well,
permeate my skin, flood my body with water and terra,
punch through skin.
Tree branches bend easily for the wind
which swoops up from the gorge below,
hitting me with its hollow sound
as if surprised by me, suddenly in its path.
It would like to sweep me over the edge;
it knows that I do not belong here.
The cold of million year old earth has seeped through denim,
and the wind blowing from some hollow below
is restless for my space.
The path going back was once solid asphalt;
its porous surface provides the foothold
that the rain-smoothed ground did not.
Now, the earth pulls away from the asphalt trail,
repelled by the foreignness of it,
leaving deep fissures on either side of the footway
as I walk to my truck and camp below,
somewhere between the
wind and the water.
 

Category
Poem

Voice in the Desert

So vast, this desert seems,                 

    so scant these supplies

            a little water,

                a few dried fruits–

too long a skirt,

            already-worn sandals—

                        scarcely the needed garb

                            for a journey so unexpected—

 

Sundarts and windstorms—

            How will they feel?

                        This sudden desolation,

                                    this sweeping despair,

                                                how sharply will they sting

 

and will there be a remedy

            and will it come in time

                        to rescue so naïve,

                                    so nearly spent

                                                a life?

 

Will you still hear it,

            that whisper,

                        that voice,

                                    the one that always says,

                                   

One step         

    take one step,

            and this:

 

Trust yourself—

    every heart vibrates,

        and you know the rest:

             that iron string is strong—