A quick shift of the mind can put you in a better place, while a quick shift of the body, after a certain age, could put you in traction. So, I wish you a positive mental shift, and a gradual, physical one, my friends.
This is for dVerse Poets’ Pub where Mish asked us to write a quadrille (44 words) and include some form of the word “shift”.
Some days I can’t get the peanut butter
outta my ears.
Some days my mouth feels
full of marbles,
each word bumping up against the others,
all in a rush to get out.
Some days are a forest of words
surrounding me
where I wander, lost.
Some days are a silent desert that
I trudge through alone.
Some days the hardest work
isn’t baling hay, or digging ditches, or chopping wood;
it’s getting meaning
from one solitary soul
to another
This image, and some other cool writing prompts, are found at The Sunday Muse. Check it out.
*Note: Photo Manipulation by Photographer Dariusz Klimczak
I do not wish to be Queen of the Universe directing everything and everyone I do not even wish to be a yenta with the happiness of a village in my hands But I see a good man, alone and a woman disappointed, betrayed again and again and my heart aches for these two And I think it would be so easy, such a natural thing, and I would like to have a chessboard or Parcheesi board and simply arrange the game pieces so that everyone lives happily ever after. Note: The Yiddish word for matchmaker is actually "shadchan", while "yenta" is an old, busybody. I used the word, "yenta" though, because I thought since Fiddler on the Roof it was more familiarly aligned with matchmaking.
As the sun sinks below the horizon its colors bleeding into black I sit on the fence, part of me reaching forward part of me pulling back Just a stone’s throw from salivation wondering if I want to be saved or spent
Does your heart
break open
on a regular
basis?
Do you ever
find yourself
weeping
in the back
aisle
of a bookshop?
Do you ever
see
a person
on the street
and have
to look away
because you are
overcome
with
sadness?
Me too
I keep my cool incognito sort of like Clark Kent. No one knows that I am the ultimate badass. I hide it under layers of flannel and grey hair. I hide it very well but take no chances so occasionally I throw in a klutzy move or an awkward encounter. No one suspects a thing.
The voices in my head all agree it’s time. They whisper then laugh at me and my feeble attempts to navigate through another day another labyrinthian set of interactions with my fellow humans. Why is it so difficult? How can I find the courage yet again to face each one, when every meeting, every conversation, is a pit with sharpened sticks waiting for me to fall and impale myself upon them? Others don’t even notice the red, neon signs “DANGER” that begin blinking above their heads as soon as I walk up to them. So once again, I prepare to go out, prepare to do battel with everyone who is going about their business so casually, so comfortably. For them it’s easy-peasy. They have no idea just how harrowing it is, how exhausting it is, every damn day. This is written for http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/04/sunday-muse-156.html.
Early April, and warm enough
to keep the windows open overnight
and so we wake to birdsong,
which is more of a repeated chirrup
than a song.
It reminds me of a dripping faucet
if the droplets sounded sharp.
Still, the air feels mild
and smells of rain.
This is spring – gentle, yet sharp.
Take a walk around the lake
and think about things
Not your heart rate
or your calories burned
but the things you push out
of your mind
all the rest of the time
Like where have all
the years gone
how much time have you
exchanged for cash
and when will you begin
to live?
In Other Words 