STAIRCASE TO SOMEWHERE

It's Sunday Muse #132 and our photo

 of inspiration this week is a stairway 

that seems to lead to a mystery 

destination shrouded in the woods. 

Submitted October 31, 2020 

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I came upon a battered stair

which seemed to lead I knew not where.

Who felled the trees to make each step

to build the stair to dreams they kept?

Who climbed the stairs to a destination

left now only to my imagination?

Only the steps remain, all else is gone

No clue to dreams or battles won.

I can only salute as I pass by

the anonymous builder, and wonder

Why?

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A revised version of an earlier poem.

FOUND POEM

Wedneday Scribblings and we're challenged 

to consider found poems...erasure, blackout, etc.  

Here's my very late and definitely sub-par attempt. 

Words from "Rich Boy" by Sharon Pomeranz

 Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United 

 October 29, 2020 

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PRAIRIE HALLOWEEN

Haibun day and time to celebrate 

Halloween. 

Submitted to dVerse 

October 26, 2020 

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 When I was a child I went to a one-room schoolhouse which was situated just across the road from our house. School and church activities were the fabric of social life in our rural part of middle Illinois. At the school Halloween party, the parents came in costume as well as the children. My mother loved Halloween, and was quite creative in choice of costume. In the year I was 8 or 9, mother decided that she and I would dress as a couple taking their rooster to market. I don't recall exactly how my father escaped this plan. Mother loved to dress as a man. She was pretty believable with her fedora pulled low, her fake moustache and her britches and shirt. I was a chubby child, and so I suppose I was believable in my babushka, house dress, stuffed ample bosom, long stockings and brogans, carrying a basket containing one of mother's roosters, hogtied and terrified. The logistics of arriving at the party without disclosing our identity puzzled Mom for a bit. "They'll know us", she said, because they won't hear a car before we arrive". At last she arrived at a solution. "We'll go through the garden, climb the fence (with the barbed wire on top) and sneak to the side of the schoolhouse. When the next people arrive, we'll go in with them and they'll think we're all together."   So, through the garden we went, and mother spryly climbed the fence. I was not so lucky. I was not only a chubby child, I was a clumsy one, and in my clamber over the fence ripped my leg on the barbed wire. Undaunted, Mom tucked a hanky in my stocking to catch the blood and took off across the road, carrying my rooster-in-a-basket for me. 

As I recall, our ruse was successful. Mom had a great time twirling her moustache and tipping her hat to the ladies, the hapless rooster survived, and we won first prize. To this day, the scar on my leg brings back memories of that long-ago Halloween.

Prairie Halloween

celebration in the schoolhouse

well earned prizewinners

ONCE IN A BLUE MOON

October 2020 ends with a blue moon. I decided to

 challenge myself to write something dark and 

ominous in its honor. 

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers Anonymous 

October 25, 2020 

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BLUE MOON

October’s blue moon cast an eerie glow

  over the bayou cypress.  

The spittle flinging demons lurked in the shadows

 and serpents coiled silently

on the limbs above.  

Swamp witches stirred  their cauldrons  

with bleached  bones of questionable origin, casting 

curses and muttering voodoo spells.  

Corvids peered from their perches  

through the swamp mist, beady eyes 

searching  for their  next victim.    

Woe to the 

unsuspecting  traveler 

who ventures 

into the bayou 

under  a 

blue moon.   

THE SUNDAY MUSE #130

Sunday Muse #130 and time to indulge in some 

ekphrastic nonsense....my usual deep philosophic

take. Submitted October 24, 2020

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NIGHT RIDERS

T'was a starry, starry night 

Vince craved a country drive. 

He picked up two cohorts who

look familiar, sakes alive!

Sal and Frida were up for a roam

Any diversion from being 

Sequestered at home

Stop at the corner, said Sal to Vin

I’m in the mood for some bottled sin

Frida nodded with a Marlboro puff

Whatever you choose, just get enough

Off they went in Vince’s Cadillac

Strangely, it's said, they 

        never came back.

BONES OF CONTENTION

 Weekly Scribblings #42, and we’re challenged to use one or all of the given lines, or write a poem inspired by all.  "fingers framed by light

                            clutching an old rosary

                            carved from human bone"

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United

October 21, 2020

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BONES OF CONTENTION

Hail Mary, full of grace,

whose bones are these

on which we count our

prayers.  

Perhaps a saint

who wished to hear

the prayers over and over

again, the sacred ritual

comforting us in our sorrows

and the saint in infinity. 

Perhaps a warrior felled in

some religious battle, now

wandering in perdition searching

for his fingers.

Magnetism Schism

It's Quadrille Monday #144, and the key word is "magnetism"

in exactly 44 words, no more, no less. Limitation causes 

pertubation, I fear! 

Submitted to dVerse October 19, 2020 

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I dread the rule of forty-four

Seems I always have some more

                                  To say for my quadrille                                      

When it comes to magnetism

There’s a definite schism

                    ‘Tween allowed and what I feel                   

Now I’ve only eleven left...

Alas not done, and quite bereft 

MYSTERY STAIR

 I'm "fudging" a bit, using an entry for one of my art challenges, but the poem is ekphrastic, inspired by the photo of the deserted stair that seemed to lead nowhere.  

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United

October 18, 2020. 

PRICE TO PAY

       PRICE TO PAY

A father!  Tim thought of his own father and the things they’d shared in his 17 years,--the backyard games of catch, the fishing trips, and the advice his father had given him.  How he wished he’d paid better attention and been more careful. His father had always told him, "Son, there's a price to pay for your actions".  But, he and Alicia had fallen head over heels for each other, and allowed their teenage hormones to overcome their best intentions.  Now he’s to be a father himself.  At 17.  He wanted to do the right thing.  But, could he finish school,  go to college and establish himself if he had a wife and a baby to care for?  How could they tell their parents?  Alicia was as frightened as he.  Yesterday, he was young and carefree and the world was his oyster.  Today it felt as if the world sat squarely on his shoulders.  A father!   Tim felt a churning in his belly.  He felt old already.   This, he thought, is the price to pay.

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Wednesday Scribblings and we're asked to consider

the term "price to pay".  I chose to use flash fiction,

but the scenario happens all too often in our modern

society.

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United

October 14, 2020

A MOTHER'S PRAYER

A MOTHER'S PRAYER

Be well, my child

I leave my heart

And a single button blue

Never will I be complete

Until I return for you

Life is cruel and I must go

There is no other way

God, hear my prayer, my abject plea

To return to my child one day

***

Tuesday Poetics and Sarah presents a challenge using the what3words site, and has given us a list of 3 words that will lead us to a place in London.  I chose mass.humid.aspect  which led me to the Foundling Museum, established as a charity for children in danger of abandonment.  Among its collections is a collection of objects left by mothers with their babies in hopes of identifying them when they were able to return at some future date.  I cannot fathom the grief represented by that collection of objects.

Submitted to dVerse  October 13, 2020

IDIOMIZING

 

Writer' Pantry #41. I challenged myself to write

 a poem using idioms exclusively. What fun!

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United 

October 11, 2020 

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IDIOMIZING

Heavens to Betsy, I seem to be 

thinking in idioms….

Off the cuff, I was on the dole

up the creek and down the river

feeling low and beside myself

yet lost in the crowd.

I was in a fix and out of luck

sometimes higher than a kite

others lower than a snake’s belly

I lived it up, then hit the skids

and rode the rails

Life let me down

from the ground up 

and from the top down

I’d shot my wad

and hit rock bottom

I was tied in knots 

and coming undone

but I was tough as nails

and slick as a whistle

I let the good times roll

I was cut short shrift

but in for the long haul

and destined for success

so I’ll pat myself on the back

and take a bow

Bottoms up!

                                             

SUNDAY MUSE #128

 The Sunday Muse #128.  

Submitted October 10, 2020

                                                        THE LIGHT CARRIER    

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Comes the Light-Carrier

Disposing  night terror

Her footsteps steady and sure

Lightning and thunder

Are all cast asunder

Night time is right time to her

Princes of Darkness tremble

Their minions disassemble

Evil is cast aside

So great is her power

Night creatures cower

She rules with God as her guide. 

WALKING AWAY

Weekly Scribblings #40, and we're asked 

to consider the term "walk away". 

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United 

October 7, 2020

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Once upon a time in my life journey

I found myself betrayed

It was a time when I’d given much

And, oh the plans I’d made

He was the first to kiss me

In the back of his Dad’s Chevrolet

We were high school sweethearts

His smile simply made my day

I listened to his pretty words

And trusted what he had to say

I was totally ill prepared

When he simply walked away

I found myself feeling hopeless

As if something inside me died

Much time passed very slowly

Before I regained my pride

I always thought if I gave my best

It would be returned to me

I learned that someone else’s best

Was far short of what I see

Handsome is as handsome does

Is the mantra I repeat each day

I don’t trust a guy with just pretty words

I know he can carelessly walk away

These days I’m much more guarded

And caution comes into play

If I detect pretty words and duplicity

I’m the one who walks away.

SADIE'S BALLAD

Tuesday Poetics, and Lucy challenges us 

to write a dark ballad. Dark is pretty much 

out of my wheelhouse, but I'll "avvago". 

Submitted October 6, 2020

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Sadie was the fairest of them all

So beautiful and bonny

Her heart was filled with longing

For oh she loved her Johnny

The postman brought the message

And this is what it said

“We know you loved your Johnny

But sad to say, my dear, he’s dead”

Sadie’s heart was broken

She said “I can’t go on this way

I have to be with Johnny

And I must find a way”

Wearing his favorite dress of blue

She went to their favorite spot

High on the bluff above the river

She was there and he was not

Sadie vowed to join her Johnny

As she took the final leap

She plunged into the river

No more need to weep

Now on the darkest nights

At the river on the bluff above

They say you can hear their voices

If you truly believe in love.

MARRIAGE 101

 Writer's Pantry #40, Poets & Storytellers, Inc.

Submitted October 5, 2020

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Women are peculiar; they’re never satisfied.

They’re never really happy until they are a bride.

They find a man who pleases them with all that he has got

Soon they begin to make attempts to make him what he’s not.

From what he wears to how he speaks and habits inconsequential

She’s determined not to stop until he reaches his potential.

His first and most important criteria to meet

Is, of course, the obvious….what to do with the toilet seat

SPACE ODDESSY

The Sunday Muse #128 

Submitted October 5, 2020

Everyone planned for the space race

the space suits, the lift-off and all

intricate mathematics were involved

and posted on the war room wall

the astronauts were chosen with care

and spent much time to rehearse

victory was in their grasp

but alas the Monarchs got there first

 

OCTOBER

 

Weekly Scribblings and Magaly asks us to consider October.  My favorite time of year!

Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United

October 2, 2020

Frost on the pumpkin

Scarecrow guarding the field

October is here

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My poem is brief, my thoughts are bittersweet.  Last night I watched via live stream the funeral service of a dear friend of over 20 years in Perth, Australia.   A gift of Covid has allowed us many and creative ways of communicating, for which I’m very grateful, and her daughter arranged that I could “be there” via Viacom.  My friend was a sassy and spunky little Irish girl with a puckish sense of humor and I thought you might like to know the music she selected for the service she carefully planned herself.  Her casket was carried into the room to the tune of “Thunderstruck” and the service ended with Queen’s rendition of “Another One Bites the Dust”.   May we all prepare our goodbyes with such panache!   Thank you for sharing her goodbye humor with me.