The fall

The smell of burning leaves
outside couldn't overpower
the smell of burning croissants

wafting from the downstairs kitchen,
the chaos of
smoke detectors beeping incessantly loud,

while Mom, who never cooks,
grabbed a towel
from the counter to fan

the smoke from the charred
pastries out through
an open window to intermingle

with the smoldering pile of
red and yellow
leaves in our long driveway

behind Dad's old yellow VW
bug and beside
the spot my sister and

I liked to play hopscotch,
retreating to the
outdoors while my brother butchered

Mozart practicing his oboe every
night, our go-to
punching bag for sibling barbs

The beeping stopped but the
smell of smoke
lingered and I wondered if

the rest of dinner was
lost. If we'd
still be eating roast beef

or if Dad would call
Chen's for wonton
soup and takeout for five



--

Creative Bloomings prompt 168 - mix-and-match muse

Unpacking the trunk

You look at me and
see a gray body bloated with memories,
wrinkled by the worries of
a life too well remembered

You see no beauty in
the bulk of my weight, hips that
have carried our children into
this dusty, drought-weary world

little ones who gaze at
their mother through elephant-thick eyelashes and
see only the fierce matronly
love beneath the rough hide

--

Creative Bloomings prompt #166 - animal house

Man of the house

He was a desperate man,

a child really,

broken and sad, left to

raise three children when he

could barely take

care of himself 

She was a broken child

desperate for a 

man to care for her

but always left carrying

the burden of

caring for herself 

--

Poetry Jam - an impossible place

Always tomorrow

"I love you in the future," he
says, believing his own words as
he kisses me on the forehead
like a real lover would


--

Creative Bloomings Micro Poetry - Another Short Japanese Form?

Nachtmusik

A nylon tent
can keep out
skunks and bears

can keep in
the warmth of
two intermingled bodies

let in the
smell of wet
pine and trap

the smell of
damp socks and
musty sleeping bags

but our flimsy
fabric walls cannot
keep out the

surrounding symphony of
crickets and creeks
that ring in

our ears as
we fall asleep
to at night


--
July PAD Day 5 - did you hear that?

Man on the moon

Does the man
on the moon
cry for us?

Does he hide
his phosphorescent face
behind stiff hands

and wonder why
he must always
light the way?

Does he face
our blue world
and lean away

wishing he could
hide from our
stiff smiles and

wandering eyes, wishing
man could see
his own light?


--

July PAD Day 4 - night lights over the lake

Greased up

Inspired by the first "summer" song that came to mind ... "Summer Lovin'" from Grease


The scent of sunscreen
always makes me think
of bikinis and boys

the salty sea air
and wet swimsuits
a lubricant for lust

as eyes scan the
sand for some sexy
smile full of promise

--

July PAD Day 3 - in the summertime (music)

A step in the right direction?

I am too young
to know that this
land is ancient
maybe even sacred
and that my footsteps
stir my ancestor's souls

beneath me

I am too blind
to see that this
river has wound its
way through the lives
of my mother's mother's mothers,
women and children
who lived off this land
and built this world

beneath me

I am too wise
not to understand that these
footsteps I'm making
are miles from
my ancestors' paths
and this land will crumble

beneath me


--

July PAD Day 2 - discovery / bop form

April PAD results ...

Super proud poem mom for a very short poem of mine (and when are they not short?), When Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, making the Top 10 list of this year's April PAD for Day 3.

It's my first time participating in a couple of years, so it's definitely an honor to make the cut ... again!

As Robert says:

The poets who’ve made those top 10 lists should be extremely happy with their work. I read through more than 21,000 comments and 5,600 pages of poems and encouragement. 

Only 300 of those made the top 10 lists–or less than 1.4%. In other words, around 1 poem for every 100 comments. That’s crazy!

To be named winner, of course, is barely one-tenth of one percent.

Pismo Beach

Inspired by summer family vacations spent in the sand dunes of Pismo Beach and Big Sur


We spent afternoons
rolling down mountains of sand
laughing as we

tumbled like logs,
all limbs and heavy trunks,
crashing our way

through the salty
air and the slow, thick
stick of vacation

flying through timelessness
ever-closer toward the cold embrace
of the Pacific

and the long
wet ride home


--
July PAD Day 1 - camping memory