NaPoWriMo – Day #21

Today I will
fight against the chaos
of the world

today I will
write

today I will
read

today I will
paint

today I will
plant
a garden

today I will
give
food, blood, thanks

I am trying to concentrate on what I can do, not what is beyond my control.  This isn’t quite right, but within the constraints of NaPoWriMo I will publish it, and hopefully come back to work on it sometime later.

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NaPoWriMo – Day #20 – Catch Up Day!

#18

I have a lot of dreams,
lately
where I’m lost
and I can’t get to
wherever it is I need to be

Suddenly
things come up
distractions
complications –
baroque and convoluted

I’m off on a tangent
trying to fix
something
or solve some puzzle
and meanwhile
getting no closer
to where I’m meant to be

#19

We are tired
of staying home
of our own company
we are sick and tired
of hand washing and masks
soon we will be sick to death

#20

Yesterday
I planted a garden
I tilled the soil
until it was broken up fine
then I raked it smooth

I use the
broken handle
of a hoe
to space my rows
evenly

To make the rows straight
I use two stakes with
a piece of string
tied between them

I planted a row of
Sweet Ann peas
next to that
Red Bliss potatoes
(because who doesn’t want a little more bliss in her life?)
next Little Finger carrots
Detroit Dark Red beets
(though I live in Wisconsin)
and Mixed Heirloom leaf lettuce

Now I wait
and weed
and watch for miracles

NaPoWriMo – Day #17

Somehow my baby
turned thirty
last week

and her big brother
will be thirty-two
next month

Once I thought the
sleepless, pacing nights
would never end

as I carried one
then the other
trying to sing away
nightmares
and colic

But I closed my eyes
and dozed off
and somehow my baby
turned thirty
last week

This is for Hedgewitch’s FF55 Verse Escape

NaPoWriMo – #16

Once we had a war on poverty,
now we seem
to be engaged in
a war against the poor,
as if the “have nots”
were the enemy,
the problem.
Rather than
the incredible greed
of the “have too muchs”
who burden us all
with the terrible weight
of their avarice

NaPoWriMo – Day #14 – oops

#13

Where did #13 go?
Is this month of poetry
like a hotel
that just omits
the 13th floor
to ward off bad luck

Or maybe this can
count as my #13
though it’s on the 14th
so I can keep
the string intact,
kind of…

And here is what I am considering #14

I just watched an instructional video
on how to make bread.
The woman demonstrating was
so very excited
about bread,
with her purple countertop and
pink oven gloves

She was casual with the dough
and did not treat it with reverence.
She kept telling me how easy it was
to make my own bread

And she said the dough is forgiving.
You can let it rest for three hours or four,
you can use any kind of flour,
regular, bread, whole wheat anything
and you can add anything to it that you like.
It is a flexible dough, not fussy
or hard to work with

The finished loaf was beautiful
with golden, crisp crust.
Then she cut it open to show
the soft white inside,
light airy, holey

So much more appealing
than the thin wafer
doled out on Sunday mornings

NaPoWriMo – Day #11

Today I am cleaning closets.
I am the archaeologist
of my own life,
of my family.
I sift through layers and remember.

There is the High School Era
with my kids’ athletic medals
solo and ensemble ribbons
musical programs
home burned CDs
report cards and reports
dried and crumbling prom flowers
and so many pictures
of those brave, innocent faces
with a knowing in their eyes
that wasn’t yet beaten or
swindled out of them
that they would change the world
and the fresh young bodies
barely able to be still
long enough
for the snap of the camera

The Elementary School Era
with exuberant little-kid-bright crayons drawings
rippled watercolor paintings
ribbons for history day projects
and science fair projects
and some of the projects themselves
special stones
random game pieces
lopsided coil pots
and handmade cards
ending with “I LOVE YOU”
And photos that squeeze my heart –
smiles with missing teeth
and now-dead pets
first days of school
birthday parties
sledding and swimming
and sitting with grandma and grandpa

Then there is evidence
of the big extinction
when my mom
and later my dad
died.
There are two
black and white plaid bags
from the funeral parlor
four years apart,
but each filled with cards and notes
a slim, white prayer book
a guest book
a silver cross
and a bill of sale.

And that’s a far as I can dig today.