Poem: Conclusions

This is the final poem in the thirty day series. Today's prompt was: Write a poem about conclusions. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue writing and posting a poem each day as I have my book, Lost and Found, to complete, but I definitely enjoyed writing poems and reading the poems others submitted. I'd forgotten how much I love poetry.

Conclusions

The artist stood back from the portrait
And paused staring at his work.
Deliberately, he picked up the paint bush
Broadening the shadow on his subject’s silhouette.
Slowly, like honey dripping off a spoon,
A smile spread across his face.
This was as close as he could come to
Perfection.

Poem: Whatever

Today's prompt: Start your poem with the first line: “You can do whatever you want…"


Whatever

You can do whatever you want to your
Hair.
Nails.
Body.

It’s your life; you can do whatever you want
Go to the park
Visit Paris
Travel to Rome

You can do whatever you want, but I’m
Coming.
Going.

Poem: You Would Never Know

Today's prompt: Make your poem today at least half lies:



You Would Never Know




When you meet me, you would never know

My given name is Marianne Sesso
I had a happy childhood
I was a cheerleader in high school
Spanish is my first language
I am a great cook
Fishing and camping are my favorite activities
I like cats more than dogs
I’ve been married seven times
I once lost a winning lottery ticket
Meditation is the first thing I do every day
My grandfather invented carnival games
One grandmother smoked a pipe
The other rolled her own Bull Durhams
I was a straight A student
Growing up I moved twenty-eight times
I’m addicted to chewing gum
Because of allergies, I hate the month of May
Depending on the situation, I can lie with conviction

Unless I told you, you would never know

Poem: Abecedarian

The post for today: Write an abecedarian, where each line of your poem begins with a letter of the alphabet, in order. (A...B...C...). If you're up for a dare, which I was not, write a double one: where each line starts with the alphabet letters in order, and ends with the alphabet letters in reverse order. (A...Z/B...Y/C...X). Yikes! I could barely meet the first challenge

Abecedarian

Anytime you want to come
By my house we
Can sing and
Dance until the
Elephants come home

Friends and family
Gather together
Howling
Inspiring
Joking
Kissing
Loving

My house is your house
Nothing stands in the way
Open up your heart
Play all day

Quarter says you’ll be there
Rest another time
Stay up late
Take a date
Unicorns might come but only if they rhyme

Village people all around
Waltzing, walking, wooing
X marks the spot where
You must trot…although
Zelda will care if you dare to come bare

[Whew!]

Poem: Delicious

Today's prompt is: Start today's poem with flavor and end it with scent

Delicious

The news, which I'm afraid to say out loud
In case I might jinx it,
Is as delicious as pralines and cream
Licking it slowly, I savor every morsel

Intoxicated with possibility
Bursting with flavor
I see a life long dream becoming
Blueberry cheesecake, my favorite dessert

Giddy at the prospect, I can hardly
Contain the joy building from my
Nose to my toes, like the aroma of
Licorice, Lilacs, and roses

Poem: Always

Today's prompt: Write a poem whose title is Always






Always

Duality is what drives us insane
Forgetting the middle way
Black and white
Hot and cold
Right and wrong
Good and bad
Dark and light
Up and down
Love and hate
Sometimes and forever
Always. Never

Poem: I wasn't all that

Today's prompt: Write a poem that begins with, I wasn't all that. The prompt surprised me by bringing up stuff from the past.


I wasn't all that

I wasn’t all that surprised to find lines showing up on my face
Rather than signs of age, I prefer to think of them as personal poetry
Each earned through experience and well deserved
Hours spent tanning during my youth
Disappointment over lost love
Grief of losing a mother I never knew
Financial woes
A troubled marriage
Sick children
Project deadlines
Endless negative thoughts
Records of the past
No, I’m not all that surprised to find lines showing up on my face.

Poem: Afterlife

Today's prompt: Write a letter poem to someone you don’t know yet.

Afterlife

Unless there is an afterlife (and I certainly hope there is)
I don’t expect we’ll meet
Even though I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my life
Getting to know you

Searching for clues, I am a detective
Finding them in photographs and stories
Using them to piece together the real you,
The mother, the sinner, the saint

In black and white there’s
The little girl dressed in a ruffled petticoat
Baby doll clutched tightly to her chest
Standing alone in front of a big white house

There’s the photo taken on your wedding day
Clasping rosary beads
Looking as prim and proper as a school marm
Even though you’re only sixteen

What about the snapshot of the young mother
Sitting on a bench with three small boys
And a space on the end for one more
Me

At a wedding not so long ago,
Your former drinking buddy told me,
“Oh your mother was a wild one alright.
But mosta you kids belong to Ernie”

Ray said you moved so many times he lost count
Richard said you did your best, but
Standing at your grave, two generations of boys
Argued about who you were.

Ron said you had changed. Ernie said he doubted it
Bill, who at two, had been dangled out the window
By an angry boyfriend said he wished
He too had been adopted—we were the lucky ones.

I heard you were sick, lonely, and bitter when you died
The boys didn’t love you like they should have
And I felt sad about the choices you made
Giving all the girls away, and I forgive you every day

Poem: Birth Mother

Today's prompt: Retell a fairytale/fable/legend/myth or a story from the Bible. This is my version of Moses.

Birth Mother

She swaddled the infant tightly
in a blanket of soft plaid wool,
kissed her gently on the forehead,
set the basket in the tall reeds,
pushed it downstream with the tip of her shoe
hoping for the best, and like a sleek black cat,
she slipped back into her life.

Poem: Loki

The prompt for today's poem was: Write a list poem with at least six items in your list. This assignment brought out the silly in me. I'm having a great time writing these poems, but even more fun reading what others have submitted. It's been a great motivator. I get the assignments at night, write the poem before I go to bed and publish in the morning before I get back to writing my book. Sorry about the formatting of the poem...Like the subject of the poem, Blogger won't cooperate. Hmmmm.

I know Loki is the Norse God not Goddess of mischief, but the name so described her curious and fun-loving nature, nothing else seemed to fit except Cleo (she has brown makings around her eyes), but the other Golden is Leo and that just would have been too loony.

Loki
Come, down,drop it, sit stay, heel, shake,
Get off the couch, leave the ball, let's walk for heaven sake.
We went to school, the pup and I and practiced every day,but
If there's any distraction, she simply won't obey.
There are birds and squirrels and moles to chase and people passing by,
A cat beside the neighbor's car, a bouncing ball, a paper boy.
We went to school. We studied hard. We learned all the commands.
If you have a treat she's at your feet until something better lands.
A butterfly, a falling leaf, a beetle, or a ball,
A baby mouse the cat dragged in, almost anything at all.
She's beautiful and friendly--a very happy hound, but
It's going to take some time before she wins an obedience crown.

Poem: Rainy Day

Today's prompt: Write about something you own that you’re going to use someday but haven’t yet. When I wrote this poem, I didn't realize that my mother died seven years ago today. For some odd reason this posted on the first instead of the second, but it's actually poem #2.

Rainy Day

There’s nothing in my house being saved for a rainy day.

Cleaning up after my mother died took care of that.

Growing up during the great depression taught her about scarcity,

And it became a family tradition.

I grew up using thread-bare towels when

Stacks of new ones were hidden in the closet.

My Grandmother’s bone china and crystal stemware

Never used, but always on display.

Tablecloths, sheets, pillowcases, and washcloths

Carefully hand-embroidered by my aunt were tucked away.

After she died, I found unopened packages of bath salts,

French soaps, and Channel No.5,

Dusty bottles of Jim Beam, Canadian Club, Dwars. and Remy Martin,

Cases of cocktail napkins, colored toothpicks, and paper plates.

Treasures buried in every cupboard, my mother lived like a pirate,

When she died in a stormy sea, the doubloons were left to me.

I kept what I could use and gave the rest away.

There’s nothing in my house being saved for a rainy day.

Poetry: It's Summer

After a brief mental vacation, I'm back to my blog. With promptings from Mollie Fisk, I have joined thirteen others and have committed to writing a poem a day for the month of June. Mollie e-mails a prompt, we e-mail our poems to members of the group and post them on our respective blogs. The last time I wrote poetry was in college, but I figured I'd jump in and see how it goes. Today's prompt was, "Write about water in any of its forms: solid, liquid, or gas, fresh or salt," which brought back memories of my childhood in Ohio and summers at the pool.

It's Summer

It's summer .
We're at the pool.
Marco...Polo

Nancy is frozen at the end of the high dive
A line of boys forming behind.
"Go ahead. Jump."

From the perch above the pool a whistle blows
"No running," shouts the tall and tan
Poolside Adonis.

The whistle blows again.
This time at Nancy, who remains motionless
Fixated on the water.

The younger girls play ring around the rosie
Holding hands and noses
"I can hold my breath longer than you."

We're up on the deck, Margie, Rachel, and me.
Waiting for Nancy so we can play jacks.
Where is she?

Our shadow, Little Roby, tan as tar says,
"I'll go get her."
He races off toward the pool.

Waiting, we argue about who Adonis likes best
While Roby scrambles up the steps
Past the boys in line,

Without hesitation he pushes Nancy into the pool
The boys cheer and do cannon balls
Showering the card-playing mothers

Adonis blows his whistle
"Time Out," he screams
At boys who don't care.

Nancy, dripping, and smiling
Sits Indian-style
As she takes her place at our game.

Did you see me? She asks.
We nod and pass her the ball.
It's your turn.

It's summer.
We're at the Pool.