Photography, Poetry | Posted by Jannie on 8 March 2014 @ 11:11 PM
about
selling it
on ebay,
that is
until i realized
i could rejoice
for the family
who will celebrate
their childrens’ and
parents’ birthdays
on it.
and i
do mean
ON it,
because every
time that party platter
makes an appearance
all persons present
will shrink to 2″ tall,
fling off their shoes
and dance on it.
Sometimes, the plate
will find itself on summer
sunset shores where white
lights are strung along the
dunes for the dance.
Sometimes, the plate
will boast a 3-to-7 tier
frosted hill the guests
will have fun tromping
up and sliding down.
In winter the plate will be
frozen over for folks to skate on it
under the full moon, some of them
falling in love with themselves and
each other for the first and the
hundred and twenty first time,
all of them happy to be there
all of them glowing like gold.
oooxoxxxoooo to all you sweet peeps.
P.S. The 14″ diam. plate shipped last week to Nancy in Illinois. I bet she can bake!
P.P.S. I dedicate the sunset shores verse to Snaggletooth of Exit Stage Right whose ocean photos sparkle with hope.
P.P.P.S. I dedicate the rest of the poem to 9 days of vacation starting today! Spring Break, Baby!!! Whooooohooo.
Comments:
of the two
big baskets
of coral
crowding
their coffee
table’s top
so she high-tided
the treasures from
one of them along
their mantel’s shore
then sailed away in
that empty basket
to Paris
to lose
herself
by night
in The
Louvre
and by day
in the arms
of a croissant
named Mo.
Including the title, that’s 55 words!
xooxoxoxooxoxoxo
Comments:
in the quiet cafe
when our poems
flew up over the
ceiling fans into
the wine bottles
an angel poured
our smiles from?
Remember how
our poems’ bones
then floated on
the steam of our
lattes to the hill
where mice were
racing motorcycles
down snow sleds
to entertain two
parakeets who
couldn’t stop
laughing?
That would be YOUR 55 fictional words, G-Man!
xoxoxo to all.
(Parakeet winter afternoon hanging spot to keep me company.)
Comments:
One time I
Google Earthed you
all the way down
to a single pixel
of a butterfly’s foot
on an oak leaf
in the northeast
corner of your
old back yard.
and in that
little square
i saw you
flipping
burgers on
your grill.
you were
drinking up
the music
of summer
and wearing
the half-toga
you usually
reserve for very
special occasions
like the crowning
of Miss America,
carrot harvesting
and bottling your
dandelion wine.
But mostly I
don’t Google Earth
you or anybody
at all. I’m too
busy either out
slapping my palms
onto the big drum
of Planet Earth
or inside stitching
birdsong, cats and
a gymnast’s dreams
into stardust tea.
~~ end of poem
Happy Poetry Tuesday, even though dVerse is on break until 2014.
Happy EVERYTHING, actually!! 🙂
And Merry Christmas, in case I’m not posting again until after the 25th.
You all rock so much, you beautiful, wonderful awesome humans!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All photos above from Saturday, Dec. 14th, 2013.
xoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoox
Comments:
after he silently
perused my finest
wares for something
worthy of his wife for
their anniversary
— the 1960s
Bavarian “harvest
party” ensemble,
the 1950s
Sascha Brastoff
art pottery coffee
confection,
the
1940s
Hopper
diner
bowls,
and the antique
robin’s egg blue
butterfly-handled
tall rare demitasse
lined with gold,
all he could
say was…
“Nice jugs!”
And that was 55 words, right?? 🙂
xoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxox
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