Deep thoughts Poetic Asides

 Background Noise

 

Sometimes, I’m so

deep in thought

that I have to tunnel

my way through layers

when I hear my name

and then someone says,

“Haven’t you been listening

to a thing I said?”

Meant to Be Poetic Bloomings

 Rearview

In high school, 

teachers and friends

insisted I go to college, 

but I had no idea

what I wanted to do. 

An interest test revealed

I should be a physical therapist. 

I did my first year of college, 

but I actually had no idea 

what physical therapists did. 

I quit after the first year

and spent another year 

at a job I hated 

working at McDonald’s 

to pay off the college loan.

Then I went through a series

of unfun low-paying jobs, 

got married and raised kids,

and then hosted four people 

with developmental disabilities. 

Hubby had two strokes

and I saw firsthand 

the amazing things 

physical therapists did. 

And I thought, 

I should have been 

a physical therapist. 

But on the other hand,

I probably wouldn’t have

become a writer. 

Desire Poetic Asides

 The Travel Bug

 

The desire starts with a twitch in my foot

when I’m driving.

It wants to hit the gas and go past

the usual grocery store run

out in open highways

over the mountains.

 

Then when I’m doing laundry,

instead of folding things neatly

and putting them in a drawer,

I want to roll up the jeans, tops,

and unmentionables

and stuff them in my suitcase.

 

Then the trains, the ship, the planes,

the canyons the oceans, the savannahs,

call my name

like chocolate does sometimes

from the cupboards.

I’ve got the travel bug.

Trees Poetic Bloomings

 

I Like trees

I like trees, wide, narrow, short or tall

Willow, Hickory, Aspen and Yew

Maple, especially in the fall

I like trees

 

An Oak to climb when nothing to do

Poplar, Linden, Eucalyptus, Palm

Bonsai, Cedar, Birch to name a few

 

Some Arborvitae to form a wall

Baobab, Cherry, Gum—not to chew

Sassafras, Elm, Dogwood, hear me call,  

“I like trees!”

Object poem ballad form

 

Orange Glass Mushroom

Orange mushroom on my dresser top

Of sparkling, see-through glass

Reminding me of a dear friend

And times we’ve had in past

 

I met her in the seventh grade

Our friendship bonded fast

We hiked and biked and talked all night

A friendship that would last

 

We had adventures in the woods

Watched football games for fun

And as a two-headed monster

We "Halloweened" as one

 

Dad called us twin thermometers

Because we were so thin

And then we got obsessed with boys

Double dates to begin

 

Then went to a small Bible group

and learned from Pastor Smith

Said yes to the Lord the same night

It wasn’t just a myth

 

We read the Bible together

For the very first time

And laughed so hard at drowning pigs

With no reason or rhyme

 

Because a woman lost her shoe--

A painting on our wall

We laughed so much that fateful night

My mom thought we would fall

 

Then Sis and I we moved out west

Nebraska became home

My dear friend joined us for a while

When she began to roam

 

We say hello on Facebook now

And though we live apart

The orange glass mushroom shows

She lives within my heart

 

 

Summer Poetic Asides

 Fun in the Sun

The summer lies like a blank journal
waiting to be written in.
I hope to have some fun in the sun,
but the dailies are up to my chin.

Is it because I’m a busy bee?
Or is the blank thing my mind?
In the sun, I hope to have some fun.
What summer adventures can I find?

Re-tour this area I know well?
Grab some friends and take a hike?
I hope to have some fun in the sun.
I’d like to buy an electric bike.

Or a kayak to dream at the lake.
Oh, I want to have a ball!
In the sun, I hope to have some fun
and go to Africa in the fall.

heat Poetic Bloomings

 It’s a Mystery

It’s a mystery, my kids who complained when hot,

I thought they’d move to somewhere cool.

They moved to Phoenix, believe it or not.

It’s a mystery.

 

An air conditioner is a handy tool,

But past one ten, it doesn't hit the spot.

It’s true, Phoenix weather can be cruel.

 

It’s nice in the winter, till heat’s onslaught.

I wish they had a swimming pool.

Why didn’t they give this more forethought?

It’s a mystery.