I went to church on Christmas Eve and ran into a rather disapproving, look-down-your-nose sort of lady among the many other kinds of church ladies. It has prompted a poem I'm working on. I'll try to remember to come back here and post it when I'm done.

Does anyone else want to share church-lady or church-going observations?

Alas, the manmade god and I have parted ways and I've moved on to more spiritual realms without the Catholic-sanctioned er, protected, pedophiles.

My third offering to the FIVES at The Tangled Branch

Aided

Shopping
Clip-clop of a lady's flip flops behind me
Baby's distress, childrens' mirth, employees' radios squelching in the distance
Bottles clinking and items jiggling in a grocery cart,
the clunk of uneven wheels beneath.
Coughing, rustling, sneezing, hustling
Change clank, clitter-clatter in the tray, bills counted out, receipt printing
Car doors slamming, paper bags rustle
Auditory awakening like booming thunder

Driving
Understood all the words to every song on the radio.
Exquisite subtleties of instrumental tones and notes
made me yearn to listen to all the newest music, take in the sounds my ears omitted,
revisit the melodies of my youth, and reminisce in lavish compositions.
I finally caught the static on the radio that I'd been missing – changed stations.
No more driving 10 extra miles past a lane change with my indicators blinking.
The slapping of 4-wheel-drive pick-up truck tires against the pavement,
18-wheeler trailers rattling along, exceedingly menacing.
Those dudes with insufferably loud engines are sure to annoy even more.
I welcome the awakening.

Eating
Overheard a cacophony of chitter-chatter at a café, tried not to eavesdrop.
The register beep and the drawer open,
ice falling and liquid pouring into cups.
The cook frying, something hissing on the grill, the spatula scraping
Heard myself chewing, felt it too
The gulp of a swallow
other patrons' mastication.
Jeez, some folks munch loudly.
Are they too, unaware, noises long gone,
or do digestive sounds become unnoticed over time?

Home
Hearkened a whisper from my youngest. He was delighted.
Understood all the words in every conversation,
much to my eldest's relief, happy to not have to repeat himself - again
Heard the clanking of plates, silverware, and pans in the kitchen - what a racket.
Caught the sound of the dog sigh, then scratch behind his ear,
the eager chomping of his doggy treat, his tail thumping on the floor.
The whirring of my computer and the tapping of my fingers on the keys
Amazing! Water going down the drain, it's insane.


Summary
Every sound I forgot I missed, felt excessive at first
The echo of my own voice in my head and my singing, oh Lord!
It's not as though I hadn't heard these intricacies before,
but they had become lost over time,
neglected by stubbornness, cost, and denial.
Now I receive sound unhindered, with crisp lucidity.
A whole new world awaits to be perceived more clearly.
Suddenly unhindered by my handicap,
it's as if my ears have been colorblind for years.


~Deb

In honor of long gone, Uncle Jack's Birthday. 12/07/194?


This poem started as an unbounded quatrain but too many things flowed to mind and I didn't want to sacrifice anything from the experience while it was fresh. It might be a fun rewrite down the road.

Guess who got hearing aids today? :shock:

I'm sure there is much more to be discovered. Since I wrote this poem, I heard the light switch go on and the tinkle of my pee in the toilet. Too much information? :D I have yet to sit in front of what my grandpa used to call, "The idiot box."

Santa Ana Winds

Dog snores,
nose dry and parched

Bushes rustle
under my window
scrape, scrape
like fingernails on a chalkboard
The East winds fuel their fury

Sleep cringes and sneaks away

Dog snores on




~Deb
Nov 15, 2021

       Obit


The old man will die soon,
he is no longer fighting.
He doesn't give a shit.

When the mean, old bastard
finally dies, there
will be no obit.

~Deb

Second draft:


Relative

The asshole will die soon,
he is no longer fighting.
He does not give a shit.

When the mean, old bastard
finally dies there
will be no obit.

~Deb

Edit:

Something to be said for not posting your writing after two cocktails, especially if you are emotional.  ::) :o ::)

It's not that we aren't willing to write an obituary for him, he simply doesn't want an one..

The Amazon series, 'The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel' brought this out of me.


Funny, Shady Dreams

In my dream, I am Honey Harlow
sipping bourbon with Lenny Bruce
at a bar, in black and white

at a nightclub in New York
with subtle grays
tarnishing everyone's happiness.


~Deb
3/23/21

I don't want to be a board hog but they keep pouring out. Please forgive me for seeming pretentious.



Signals


Seeking composure as
life goes up in smoke.
In your back yard,
over the brick wall
you see
a chimney.

A metaphor
for that moment.

No smoke,
just a stoic brick structure,
earthquake defiant.

Silhouettes of bare limbed trees
stand in solidarity.

Small talk about the coming rain?
As though trees could talk to chimneys,
or even wood.
Would
if they could.

Artist envisions a watercolor
of negative space.
Or
a photograph of stark
contrasts in the moonlight.
Which angle sets the tone?

Writer conjures a story
about the occupants inside,
anticipating warmth.
Will there be murder
or romance?


The poet grapples
with hard, new realities.

In the end,
It is
just
a chimney.



~Deb
03/10/21


I'm not sure I'll stick with this one. I reformatted it and am not sure if it works or is worth working on. I need to implement the 24-hour rule. Don't post until you've sat on it for 24 hours.

The Hours



Phycologists tell you,
"Do not suffer alone."

Friends say,
"I'm always here for you."

Yet, in silence, you break
in the desolate hours before dawn.

I took a two-week road trip to Montana with my dear friend and former flight-attendant classmate/roommate, Lori, and arrived at Lori's house in Columbia Falls, Montana on June 1st. I did not get back home until July 22. My husband was not thrilled about me being gone so long but I was afraid to fly because of COVID-19 and could not get an affordable car rental out until the end of June.

Lori put me up for almost two months. She left for three weeks, which was fine because she's a flight attendant based in Los Angeles and has two homes to maintain. She gets a clean house, cooking, gardening, and my delightful company out of the deal. I planted strawberries and a self-pollinating plum tree for her as a gift and symbol of our friendship before I returned home.

It was Heaven for me. 

I was home for five weeks before our yearly family camping, road-trip of which we did zero camping this year because every National and State Park was closed for camping. Lori insisted we stay at her place because she was going to Moab to jump out of an airplane on her 60th birthday. So, we drove back up with the family to stay a Lori's Montana home for two more weeks. We had a full-on grizzly encounter in Glacier, on the Hidden Lake Trail, but that is another story. 8-)

Indar stirred the memories and sent me to Tracy's Kayaking poem at The Tangled Branch, which triggered this.

I kayaked at least eight times while I was in Montana and I am hooked.

One of the highlights of my sojourn was the two-day 2020 Summer Solstice Float down the North Fork of the Flathead River from the Canadian border in Montana to Pole Bridge, Montana. It was my first real kayaking experience on rapids. I was in a self-bailing Ducky and had the most terrifying, exhilarating, beautiful experience in my life. Class I to Class III rapids, which is huge for me. I am a novice kayaker.

Two people died on that river the two months I was in Montana. In both cases - no life vests. Every year, they tell me, the river takes one or two stupid tourists who have no business on a river they do not respect.

My friends took me out and gave me specific rules to follow, always wear a life vest and shoes, keep the nose in front, tilt this way, not that, and what to look out for, like strainers. :o  There were other things too, like do not pass the lead raft. But those Duckies shoot through the water like bullets! So, on the second day, I had to dock with the lead boat until we all banked so the group could re-group. A small faux pas, but all was forgiven.  :-[ ;D

Those rivers are deadly, and we did not want anyone to die. So, I was very thankful to all the people who kept me alive and encouraged me on the river. There were only 5 kayakers, so we were sort of heralded as the brave souls. Unless they were pulling my leg about that too.  ???

Another unexpected treat were all the dogs in their doggie life vests floating on the front of some rafts like hood ornaments - kings of the river. The first time I saw a dog float past me on a pontoon raft, I was delighted. He looked so happy.

There were about 60-70 people on about 40+ rafts, skeeters, pontoon rafts, or whatever they're called. On the first day, we ate lunch on a cool sandbar. On the second day, we stopped in the most gorgeous area to eat lunch. Sadly, the Go-Pro with those pictures was lost to the middle fork of the Flathead by my husband when his kayak tipped while we were on the family vacation.

The Solstice Float was something special, even in COVID-19 days. People camped and stayed socially distant around the two bonfire nights. At 12:30 am the sun was just starting to sink behind the Flathead River like a dream.

I plan to make it a yearly pilgrimage.

Don't mind me, I got a little carried away. :D  8)   ;)


Cheers!
~Deb

The Times They are a Changing

Through pursed lips and
Ruffle's Potato Chips
she cries

A manicured pinky
on a shaky hand

The world will change
and no one will notice,


~Deb
1/20/21

It seems wrong to say, "Happy Veteran's Day" to anyone who has served in a war but I do want to express my sincere gratitude to all of the Veterans out there. To the men and women who sacrificed time away from loved ones and those who made the ultimate sacrifices and to their comrades for living with the aftermath of whatever horror or injury they've had to endure for their country, thank you.

Not to take away from war Veterans but I feel like this year, I also need to thank the health care workers of the world who have fought for the lives of so many COVID-19 victims and to pay tribute to those who died trying to save lives. It's a different kind of war but the battle has raged nonstop for nearly 10 months now.


If you'd like, add your Veterans tribute here, or feel free to start your own thread.


I'm working on something I hope to post later.

Thank you, to our Veterans here in our little corner of the web. We love you.

~Deb

We seem to have misplaced our Make it Up as You Go Along thread so, this is the place where you make up a new, more fitting, or humorous meaning to the word left for you by the previous person after he or she defines a word left to him or her.

Example:

PREVIOUS

A preview of the obvious that everyone else seems to miss.


ORCHESTRA

During the month of April, I did some soul searching, likely brought on by all the poetry I was writing for NaPoWriMo.

I determined, with some coercion from my sons, I need to get away from certain toxins affecting my life that may be directly affecting my health. Although the toxicity has lifted, the need to get away for a while persists.

My former Western Airlines classmates, former roommates, since - lifelong best friends, live in separate homes in Montana by Glacier National Park. They both fly for Delta now and both are homebound and isolated during this international shut down. Tim just turned 60 and is ready to retire.

These two wonderful people are characters in their own rights, Lori and Tim, whom I also call Quigs, will pepper this thread as time goes by. At least that's the plan. I want to document this trip and share it with you if you care to vicariously journey with me through the desert of Southern California in Ocotillo, up the coast of California to the Pacific Northwest and home again.

I leave this Sunday to drive four and a half hours down to Ocotillo, on the California/Mexico border to stay with Lori in her trailer where we'll be until Tuesday afternoon. We will ride quads in the desert on Monday, take her friend to the doctor to get a shot on Tuesday, then go pick up our van rental. Lori is flying down to San Diego today to wave to her family in SanDiego from the curb. Everyone is super paranoid.

Originally, I planned to drive alone, up to Montana in two days and sleep in my car at a safe rest stop or truck-stop, stay for two weeks in Montana at Lori's house, drive down the main corridor home, and meet up with another best friend and her grown son in Lake Havasu for a day, but Lori called me two days before I was to leave and asked if I'd be game to rent a van or SUV and take a two-week road trip up through the Pacific Northwest.

She wants to keep me for five weeks! I'm coming home a few days after the Summer Solstice, hopefully, fit and trim. It remains to be seen whether I rent a car to drive home or will fly.

I got a stimulus check and the economy needs stimulation, so I'll do my part.  8) ;D

I promise to be safe, I'm taking every possible precaution because I've got too many things to do before I die.

Hopefully, I won't have a problem posting my pictures but I'm taking a different laptop on the road with me because my laptop no longer closes. I haven't tried to upload directly from my phone before, so we'll see how well that goes.

One thing is for sure, it will be an adventure. You won't have as much fun as I will but perhaps there will be a few fun stories to share.

See ya soon.

~Deb

Let's try to have some pun fun with this mess we're in.



Let the pundemonium begin.

What better excuse do you need to write a poem?

What sorts of odd things are you experiencing due to the Coronavirus Pandemic?

I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for 1:30 this afternoon.

The doctor's office called my husband's cell phone at 7:30 this morning when I didn't answer the landline at home. My cell phone battery died in the night and since our landline is far from our bedroom and I sleep like the dead, I didn't hear my husband try to reach me. I checked the landline when I got up and saw that I missed his call, so I called him, left a message, then he called me back and told me the doc's office was trying to reach me. ::)

Calls made to the doc's office before 9:00 am usually go to the answering service so I had some coffee and toast, then called the doctor's office around 9:30.

The receptionist, Jennifer, who is probably (maybe) a perfectly nice girl usually sounds like a bored, spoiled rotten, uppity, rich girl with a bad attitude was outwardly showing her exasperation with me after I identified myself to her on the phone.

Jennifer, high pitched: "Ahhh, we don't want you to come in today."

Me: "Why what's changed? When I called to confirm on Monday, you asked me if I had any symptoms, I said, "No" and you told me to come on in."

Jennifer: "Okay..." Long pause  "What are we seeing you for again?"

Me: "You want the whole list?"

Jennifer: - an impatient, "Yes."

Me: "Follow-up from bloodwork and ultrasound in December, my wheezing has returned, and I'd like to see about getting some meds changed that don't seem to be working."

Jennifer: "Um, yeah. No. You can't come in."

Me: "Again, why not?"

Jennifer: "We don't want anyone with lung problems coming in at all."

Me: "My asthma was a problem before the Coronavirus."

Jennifer: "You're high risk for complications if you get sick or you may be a carrier."

Dr. Deutsch works rounds in a convalescent hospital. So, I didn't argue with Jennifer.

It looks like I'm left hanging with the rest of the world.

My husband ended up going to work and will go again tomorrow while he waits to be issued special equipment (a desktop with heightened protection and programs they use for editing) to use from home.


~Deb

Seemed like a good idea at the time. ;)


Edibles & Mead


A writer delves

into the depths
of a character's being.

Comes out a different person,
a rebuilt soul.
The crux of empathy, tragedy, reality,
imagination and fear.

The essence of hope
and misguided missiles.

Thin threads that bind...

a dare to promise
a promise to dare.

An Emissary of Earth,
life, and compassion.
A piece to,
or contrast of,
our own lost selves.

Fractioned.

The elemental shards
of the blocks that built the walls
of our lives -
your life.

Break from

the anchors of depression
that limit our possibilities

while our weary,
intrepid souls search
for meaning
and a glue gun.


~Deb

January 27, 2020

...Snippets:


Brilliance slips away
on particulate matter.
You're not the banker
so let the cards scatter.

The painter allows expects
colors to bleed.
Rare, carbon-trace-papers
seldom at need.

Yet you cling today
on a slippery ladder.
You're beaten, and blanker,
and profoundly sadder

Acknowledge decay
and reality clatter
The consequence anchor
and plain, simple chatter


Help!
Any and all thoughts are helpful. The last two lines are particularly dreadful and my editing capabilities here have taken a whacky turn.
Thanks.  :)


as your thoughts tatter...
while your conscience does smatter
as your conscience does scatter.... [/i]





The last two lines wandered off with the wine.

Spoonerisms are groups of words where the first parts of the words are switched   

From Dictionary.com:/url] "spoonerism[ spoo-nuh-riz-uh m ]
noun
the transposition of initial or other sounds of words, usually by accident, as in a blushing crow for a crushing blow."


According to Wikipedia:  "Spoonerisms are named after the Reverend William Archibald Spooner (1844–1930), Warden of New College, Oxford, who was notoriously prone to this mistake.[3][4] The term "Spoonerism" was well established by 1921. An article in The Times from that year reports that."     


Your goal is to share spoonerisms, real ones your tongue and lips have stumbled on, or imagined ones from your muse or your characters.   

I'll start with one I stumble upon regularly:




I bess I guetter...

for

I guess I better...



The other day I said, "Let's trake the tail."

Write or share one poem a week in December. That's four poems in any form you like. Do it or you're a Grinchy Scrooge before the ghosts visit.

Your poems can be about Christmas, Kwanza, Hanika, Winter, gifts given or gotten, childhood memories of the Holidays and what they mean to you.

C'mon, are we writers or witherers? We'll figure out the rest on January 5th. Deal?

Share your poems here or PM me if you want me to post for you, incognito.

Have you ever said or thought to yourself, or heard someone else say out loud...

This is a dive into the deep, dark parts of a writer's or creative person's mind.

We've all had those moments when we wanted to say or write something we didn't because it was inappropriate or ridiculous, but the thought was there nonetheless. . . and most of us have fantasized about, crossed that line, or wish we had.

Here's the thread to share those absurd and inappropriate conclusions and actions. Regale us with a moment when the worst or stupidest possible thought crossed your mind or a moment when the proverbial, "Cat out of the bag" slipped off your or someone else's tongue.

Let's keep it reasonably clean, no lewd or lascivious thoughts need be shared. Try to stick to the comical, outrageous, and clever. Actual or made up, it doesn't matter but if you have a story to go with your thought, enlighten us.

Here's where you start:

No one in the world has ever said to him/herself, out loud, or to anyone else...