May 22, 2013 at 12:05 pm #4485
This thread is for posting a poem, a piece of prose, or whatever your imagination comes up with you would like to share. Punctuation and spelling errors are a never mind. Ponder away and feel free to give a thumbs up to an author’s work.
June 3, 2013 at 9:41 am #4491
May Lilacs: Nature vs. Nurture
The tapered petals cluster along the stem
wakens in me my childhood’s germination.
Lazy the scent lays its fragrance on the air,
not in a rush, it takes the season to explain
what only it can tell the velvet breeze.
Just as May enters the spring in gusts,
skies can turn to dark ominous twists.
Swirl violet blossoms into tornado guise,
clocks its force of fearless blatant fate.
Then comfort as silence graces tomorrow.
The lilac tree’s pleasant sweet smell
beneath my bedroom windowsill.
Erupts in me tender unlocked thoughts
of springtime being near memory street,
when lilac blossoms measured time.
This was written for me to share with my poetry tribe. May have more revisions in the future as a poem is never truly done it needs to brew like tea for a bit and even then the tea leaves leave clues on what you might want to change.
Hope you enjoy it. I have several more I would like to add as the weeks go by.
Remember it doesn’t have to be a poem. Poems are my hobby.
June 20, 2013 at 12:05 am #4565
Inside the aisles of 1960’s Honey Girl, amongst the assorted sundries moves Mrs. Mollycoddle the boss. Strict as sandpaper on wood she smooths out the daily wrinkles of the clothes store. Bowing to the cultured clientele she moves them to the expensive side away from Aileen fashions. Gertrude, her given name, would slide the “better” dresses into the curtained dressing rooms. She’d push pantsuits of fresh shades, wool blazers, silk blouses and dresses in sunlight yellow, evergreen, cardinal red. Her hair piled atop her head made you wonder if it was a pristine squirrel’s nest. Her lips were pursed crimson with eyes peeked blue and cheeks of over-shadowed rose. She would gab away with her patrons then shred them behind their backs.
She smiled with ice cube teeth as she checked out the shopper. “The spring gowns will be in Thursday,” Gertrude advertised as she folded snow-white tissue around the garment placing it inside the pink cardboard box emblazoned with the brand.
She rang up the total cost to both. Her shoulders straight like her mother demanded she’d been all that and more. With fake pride and snobbery she pretended she owned the place. Mrs. Mollycoddle, Gertrude, regularly chafed away her days craving it were actual.
June 26, 2013 at 12:34 pm #4581
Beautiful poems, please do keep sharing
January 4, 2014 at 6:27 am #4970
Not all scars are seen
They are hidden hush hushed
to times long standing mend
To be wisdom’s earn
December 18, 2014 at 2:26 am #5505
Just Like Carnak
My dad always seemed to know what he was getting for Christmas. Later he confessed he would find receipts in the garbage when he took it out or guess the amount listed coupled with the store’s name in the checkbook registry. Every Christmas it was the same thing. He would shake the box somewhat like Johnny Carson would do with the envelope when he played the Carnak character. This was where Johnny would put said envelope (that had an answer to his question made up question inside) to his forehead, say what he thought was the question to the answer written inside. Then he would rip it open, then read the answer to uproarious laughter(see below). In the same way, Dad would play it up as he shook the box telling us where it was bought and about how much it might have cost followed by his opening the box announcing at the same time what was inside. Much to every ones disappointment he was always right.
My mom didn’t drive so every trip Dad would sit in the car waiting for her to come out or come back later to pick her up. This time if my memory serves me right Mom got together with her neighbor friend to surprise him that year. I can almost see them put their heads together as they figured out the plan of action. This was the year my mom got either a nice raise or a bonus from the hospital where she worked as a nurse. So she had enough money to buy Dad something extra nice. This was the late sixties when this shiny greenish suit coat was all the rage. She probably used the measurements from his Sunday go to church suit coat to get the size right along with sleeve length. My guess is she left the suit coat at the neighbor’s house until the last minute so she could sneak it inside without him seeing it.
My mom had a planted box wrapped under the tree so he could do his usual shaking. He continued with his now familiar routine of saying where he thought she bought it and how much finishing it up with his surefire guess. It was a pair of shoes like he had wanted. “Shoes,” he said with glee as mom slipped down the hall to get out the real true gift from its hiding place.
So now that all the presents were unwrapped and Dad was wondering what was up because everyone was sitting there with Cheshire cat smiles waiting for mom to trick the trickster. Mom winked and went on about how each year he always figured it out but this year she was sure he wouldn’t because there was something else. She asked him to guess what else she might have gotten him. Dad guessed a few things and had us all laughing because he did have some good hunches. Mom went down the hall to where she had hung the gift out of sight and brought out the very modern colored off green suit coat for Dad. His eyes lit up with joy at the pleasure of it. Mom’s eyes teared up as she enjoyed the joy of being able to buy it for him. “Honey,” he said. “You got me this year. I was sure that amount in the checkbook was for that dress you were getting for my sister.”
Well that was the best year ever. The year of the green very in style suit coat surprise for Dad. The joy it brought. The pleasure it gave our family to see his glow at Christmas services wearing proudly his coat of many guesses.
Redone Christmas 2014
The Carnak jokes often involved puns or wordplay; the answer “The La Brea Tar Pits” was the answer to the question “What do you have left after eating the La Brea Tar Peaches?
Do you have a story to share?
January 23, 2015 at 10:39 am #5540
I loved reading your Christmas story. Thank you for sharing it with us.
February 4, 2015 at 12:57 pm #5556
Great story and a fond memory of Johnny Carson too. Loved Carnak!!
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