The Girls' Rooms

It's a mess.
It's a total mess.
I can't step one toe in,
And I protest.
It it not my job
To pick up your crap.
Can't I just close the door
To this death trap?
I'm going in.
I'm up to my chin.
You may never see me again...

I wrote this for Pete

If we were both frogs
I'd come to your log
and bring you some bugs
and warm slimy hugs.

Thank you.

Busy Day

Sometimes it is nice
to sit home and rest
and others it seems
that busy is best.
Today we had about
8 things to get done
and one more was added
before we started #1.

(I am terribly sorry. It's been a busy week. I promise to try harder to make the last week of NPM less painful to read. Maybe I'll finish one of the beginnings...)

Day Off (guest poets)

Pete wrote this one:

If I was a fairy my name would be Mary.
Boy that would be scary to be a fairy named Mary.

Husbandguy added:

Better than a fairy named Larry.

New Project (not a poem)

This afternoon, a very tall professional arborist stopped by on his day off to walk around the back half of our nice-sized lot and tell me how much it will cost us to have him and his guys spend a day making it usable. He told me all about the trees we have and which ones he'd recommend we keep and taught Lulu a little bit about poison ivy (LL says 'itchy ivus') and poison oak and he said things like, "No, you'll never be able to grow grass there," and, "That's a pretty little creek," and "My team and I could have this cleared out in a day," and "We'll give you the whole day for [6 times what we were hoping to pay but probably a very reasonable price considering what's involved]." You know me, I'm impulsive and almost hired him on the spot, but I thought Husbandguy might want to have some input, considering how much we're spending and also I had called another guy to give us a quote but haven't heard back.

Still, it's finally going to happen. 12 years later...

another very first draft, another beginning, if you will

Mending

We've built a wall.
Frost would have us ask
What we are walling in
Or out.
But if we ask,
We might just answer,
And what then is the purpose
Of our wall?


("Mending Wall", by Robert Frost)

Story Idea

A frog and a fox are good friends.
Each 'pon the other depends.
Their tales are a sweet
Spur-of-the-moment kid treat
And long car ride boredom suspends.


(Ouch! That was painful. Sorry... But click the F+F tag to see what I'm referring to.)

It's difficult to write a poem a day
But I'm trying anyway.

(it does too count.)

Girlfriend Wanted

Christine

I'll always be 13

In your parents' basement
Feathered hair sprayed stiff
Or pulled into a one-side ponytail
Leading imaginary aerobics classes
To "Papa Don't Preach"
And finishing the leftover
Christmas chocolate.

Standing next to you
At the front of church
Graciously irritated
When you miss your note
And sour mine
Or taking turns with the reading
That they asked us to share
Because we're always together.

Apart from you
On the church lawn
After the funeral
Without words to heal
Your biggest loss
Cowardly pulling away
And leaving you alone
With the pain
That I didn't believe
I could share with you.

18 April

Walking, not waking.
Sometimes her dreams
Follow her and
She wimpers or complains
Or has lost something.
It always ends with
"Why don't I tuck you back in?"

Does This Happen to You?

Dryer-ready wash -
It's not found inside the fridge.
Pay attention, girl.


(a haiku in rhythm only)

A Little Better?

Wordless Distance (not sure about the title, still)

“His snoring keeps me awake,”
She told anyone who asked
Why she slept on the couch.
To be physically separate,
Was less bitter
Than to consent to the
Wordless, untouched distance
In the bed.

The rote, the habitual, divided them.
They’d say the words,
“Love you.” “Love you too.”
But sometimes she couldn’t.
There were fewer one-sided
Conversations and conflicts.
She stopped talking at him.
She stopped asking for him,
For his interest.
“I think it,” she’d heard him say
Too much. It was too much.

It’s wrong to be so lonely,
She would think.
She wondered, never aloud,
What she would have to give up
If she could take it all back now.
What would she lose
If she just gave it back?

There would be steps to take,
Arrangements to make,
Other lives changed, damaged,
Crushed.
She would be called thoughtless,
misguided, indifferent.
Selfish.
“All this just because he snores.”

Another Beginning, I think

[title pending - something to do with "missing"]

“His snoring keeps me awake,”
She told anyone who asked
Why she slept on the couch.
It was less bitter
To be physically separate,
Than to consent to the
Wordless, untouched distance
In the bed.

The actions that divided them
Became rote, mechanical, habitual.
Each day was the same,
Though with fewer conflicts
And fewer one-sided conversations.
She stopped talking at him.
She stopped asking for him,
For his interest.
“I think it,” she’d heard him say
Too much. It was too much.

She wondered, never aloud,
What she would have to give up
If she could take it all back now.
Then, though, she thought about
What she could regain.

(This is totally unfinished. I'll keep working on it and post it again if I get anywhere...)

Difficulty

It's
Hard to
Think of a
Worthy poem
To write or to read
With the TV blaring
And every other word
Starting with F. Please turn it off.
Can't I just have a moment of peace?
Can't I have just a minute of quiet?

The Start of Something...

Tabitha Pratt was never a brat
She had kindness and patience galore.
"Oh, what an angel," said all the adults.
Her sister said, "What a heavenly bore."

Miranda Pratt, on the other hand, you see,
Was full of mischief and fight,
Extraordinarily contrary from morning 'til noon
And often well into the night.

(to be continued...)

One for Lulu

Skipping with Both Feet

Ahead of me -
Hair bouncing.
Legs flailing.
Arms thrashing.
Like a little monkey
Doing a silly dance
Across the sidewalk.

I can't help but laugh.
You're so silly!
Who taught you that?

Do it again!

And back again -
Jouncing
Grinning
Bounding
My silly dancing monkey.

LL Says:

Lulu: I don't want to clean up and play outside. There's nothing to do outside.
Me: You could use the sidewalk chalk or play with the ball or the frisbee. Or you could eat the dried worms off the driveway like the dog does.
LL: I don't want to eat dried worms.
Me: You don't? Huh...
LL: No. I don't want to eat worms. I already had my lunch!

(Because being full is the only reason not to eat worms...)

Morning

First.
Morning.
Birds singing.
Ordinary things -
Taking the dog out
Filling the bird feeder
Making then drinking coffee
And putting clothes in the washer.
Everyday things, simple, routine,
Seem sweeter in a silent, dawn-lit house.

Today Is HG's Birthday & We're all Visiting His Parents

Abby's Vacation

I vacation in fear, in terror.
My fluffy blonde fur stands on end.
I need protection from the feline forces that plague me.
I am related to poultry, apparently.

Away (sorry)

Shhh, be quiet.
You'll wake the kids.

No, you should try it.
Look what I did.

I started the CD
And turned off the lights
And they're sleeping, you see
Hopefully all night.
So my quiet typing
Isn't going to hurt.
Please stop your griping
While I finish this word.

There. It's all done,
My April 9 verse.
The sticky rhyme web is spun,
And it could be worse.

8 April

The Empty Feeder

O Birds!

Where have you gone?
Why have you abandoned me?

It has been a week since I
Filled the seed to overflowing and
Hung the dome-topped cage and
Returned to my kitchen window
To wait for you,
To wait for the empty feeder.

But not like this!

Sunny Day

NC ZOO

With little effort we were
Off to the zoo.
Promises made to see
The giraffes first.
And Mommy wanted
To see the bears.

Too hot for April
The crowded park
Bustled and crushed
At times then gave way to
Clear views of
Slumbering creatures.

A four hour trek from
Africa to North America
And a rapid ride back
To the car in a
Zebra-striped shuttle.
Exquisite excursion.

6 april poem

Spring

One
Weekend
Away and
It's like the gray-
Brown dullness of the
Winter months has been swept
Under a new carpet of
Pale clean greenness and lacy light.
Spring snuck up while we were turned away,
And we are startled by nature renew'd.

Busy Tuesday

It's hard to find time this week to write. The girls are both on spring break and I'm more than just Mom at the moment. I guess I'm not doing anything new, just more of it all: taxi driver, social planner, chef, mediator, dictator... You know.

I'm trying, though.

cinquain for Pete & Lulu

my girls
muddy, dripping
squealing, playing, splashing
a Monday afternoon sprinkler
sisters

Wait! Don't Leave!

I have to admit that I was actually on vacation this past weekend and had to schedule 4 quick posts in a short time on Thursday to keep up with my commitment to post 1-a-day. The rest of the poems this month won't all be hurried like those were (some will, though) so stick around. Okay?

Another Limerick (sorry)

Dancing for the Dog

Our Abby, a sweet little pup,
We make her wait for her sup.
The first dance was a trial
If she'd wait for a while.
Now she won't eat unless we jazz up.


(again, sorry)

I Love This One

I've posted this three years in a row now, but I'm under pressure and needed a quick poem. I'll have more new stuff tomorrow.


The Monster Under My Bed

There’s a monster under my bed.
It’s furry with big orange paws.
Did you see it?
The tip of a whisker?
The orange tail?
The claws?!
It is really very frightening.
I’m scared!
Oh, what should I do?
I can hear it growling
And moving around under there too!!
Wait a minute...
Hold on…
What do you think?
How about that?
The growling sounds a lot like purring…
Silly me! It’s just my CAT

Show Me How to Do That!

Magic

Blow.
On my fist, blow.
Go on.
Oh! It’s gone!
But where?
Where can it be?
In your ear?
In your hair?
Behind your knee?
Oh, you got me!

Hey, It's April!

Know what that means? It's National Poetry Month. Who's up for writing with me?


April, the month, can be fun
With the flowers and warming spring sun
But I'm stuck in this place
On a poetic chase
Since my 1-a-day task has begun.


See. They don't have to be good. If you write too, let me know so we can link up!