My Humble Hotel

Welcome, dear blog traveler!

Come in from the blizzard of potholes
that have probably been spanking your eyes
and your mis-matched luggage for years.

Here, let me shake the time zones and the
tangle of dishwasher salesmen out of your hat.
Fling your shoes and worries wherever you wish.

You look thirsty. How ’bout a nice tall glass of
waterfall I’ve been stirring meadows of lemon into
since the evening you published your first post?

You look hungry. Here, help yourself to my famous
sand castle soup, followed by motherboard a la mode.
(All seasoned with hints of violin string, of course.)

Are you tired? There’s a beach on the sofa.
Are you cold? There’s a fireside chat in my heart.
Are you lonely? There are friends waiting

always

for YOU

in my lobby

and over at dVerse Poetry.

You need only knock on their door.

Talkin’ about dVerse’s Tuesday Open Link night. LOVE it! Week 7 already.

Tremont House in Galveston, TX.  Book rooms for 50% off via Priceline.com.

Please note, no salesmen were harmed in the production of this, or any other of my poems.  🙂

Edit… please stay as long as you wish!!

If Love Has A Library

If love has a library of every book you’ll ever read
starting with great-uncle Cromagnon Mike’s hunting
yarns passed down to cousins Billy Bob and Billie Sue
in caves where bear flesh sustained the future you,

through the years when printing presses clacked
where you apprenticed in growing up and growing
towards museums about men walking on the moon
and men stirring glowing cauldrons of binary code,

all the way to the final pages your eyes will read
in print so enormous you think of it as Jupiter now,
consider my name swirled into each chapter’s art
and my heart the light that’s shining on each word.

This is my post for Open Link Night, Week 6 over at the dVerse Poetry blog.

Got poems?? Check dVerse Out!

Photos from our recent day at NASA in Houston.

THANKS for commenting  I’ll be over soon to read your poem, whooohooo.

xxoxoxoo

An Orphan’s Poem

when angels finally sweep down to this
attic where we wait with our boxes of snow
and our avalanches of stale corn muffins

when we take to their ship and we sail
our feathers and our rags into tapestries
of golden silk and silver chandelier

when our boomerangs of hope return
on wings of chocolate cake baked by mothers
who smell sweeter than Easter morning rain

when we fly free from this rusted turret,
our cardboard tiaras and nametags forgotten,
love at last will be only song that sings us

One weird little poem for you, linked to Open Link Night over at dVerse Poetry.

(The orphan out front was our Kelly playing the role of Molly in a KidsActing “Annie” production a few years ago.)

There Are Churches — a poem in 72 words

There are churches of words that poets yet unborn

will preside over oceans, hills and boardrooms with.

There are churches of moss by woodsy streams in which

mice will serve up hors d’oeuvres and dance tonight.

There are churches in our veins, running on the same iron

that won the wild west and keeps bubbling in a core soup.

But mostly, there are churches in your smile

and in the gift of every good thought you think.

xoxoxoxoxo

The Day I Heard Mary Died

long after I got Jim’s call at the Krispy Kreme
long after Kalyani was there to catch my fall

I wrote a letter to Aunt Sue on my best stationery.

No sense having all those real-pressed-flower
fine cotton papers just hanging around in boxes
with no one getting any enjoyment out of them.

Aunt Sue has recently gone deaf
and I miss our phone calls.

She is Dad’s “baby” sister
for whom yours truly is named.

Dad also has one brother living,
Uncle Ken, on the adjacent farm
in the Canadian Maritimes

Aunt Sue lives near Toronto.

Uncle Wes, Uncle Wayne, Aunt Jean, Aunt Bess and Aunt Day have all passed on.

Used the last of my old humming bird stamps on her letter.

And that return address label.

 
I got the Smiley Face stickers as a surprise in a
Wonderful Package from this fine fine lady.
I’ll explain them in a post here one day.

So, one off my list, whooooohoooo. I’m on letters-writing fire now, people!!

This is Jo’s card I’m still writing on…

Pretty, eh?  On linen-laid cotton.

Raoul Dufy’s “The Baie des Anges at Nice” — 1926.

Remember Jo — my “panpal” since 1994?

Remember us at that pub in England in 1999?

And here we are with her daughter Pascell, the first time they came to Texas…

What year was that, Jo? 1997? ’98?

And Jo recently…

And after I was home from writing Aunt Sue’s letter that day I snapped this with my iPhone…

Mieshka had been with us 2 days.

There you have it for today.

With love, from Jannie Sue Muffin.

P.S. I see I actually had the date wrong on Aunt Sue’s letter. That Friday was really the 15th, not the 16th.

🙂