Friday, July 18, 2014

The Hall Sisters: Circa 1994

My little sisters and I have been enjoying some much-needed reunion time over the last week or so, as the older of the two recently flew in from Philadelphia to vacation with us.  Our time together has caused me to reminisce and remember the experiences we shared growing up.  This week, in honor of my sisters, I will post three poems celebrating our terrific trio.  Installment no. 3, The Hall Sisters: Circa 1994:

We knew our
whole world
was about to change.
I cried the entire
four-hour trip
to campus
and the two of you
held each other
in the living room
all morning.
We were
letting go of life
as we knew it,
knowing that we
would survive
the changes ahead
but not knowing
exactly how.
We had been together
all of our lives --
through every move,
in every new house
and every new city.
We shared friends and
hobbies and teachers.
Now we would be
in different states
with 207 miles between us.
I opened your letters
like beautifully
wrapped packages
and read each one
between nose blowing
and cheek dabbing.
I think I used
an entire box
of Kleenex
driving up to Michigan,
thankful that I didn't
decide to go to school
in Portland.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Passing Gas at Ponderosa

My sisters and I have been enjoying some much-needed reunion time over the last week or so, as the older of the two recently flew in from Philadelphia to vacation with us.  Our time together has caused me to reminisce and remember the experiences we shared growing up.  This week, in honor of my sisters, I will post three poems celebrating our terrific trio.  Installment no. 2, Passing Gas at Ponderosa:

My little sisters and I were
eyeing the bountiful buffet
when it happened.
I tucked my head under the
overhead glass to get
closer to the cantaloupe
and grabbed a slice
with the plastic tongs.
Attempting to back up
and place the fruit
on my plate, I
bonked the back of
my noggin on the glass,
dropped the orange
melon on the floor
and cut the cheese,
all in the same instant.
Humiliated in my
preadolescent state,
I tried to slink back
to the table and
join our grandparents
unnoticed, despite
the unexpected
backside blast, as my
baby sister yelped:
"WAS THAT YOU?"

Monday, July 14, 2014

Grade School Glories

My sisters and I have been enjoying some much-needed reunion time over the last week or so, as the older of the two recently flew in from Philadelphia to vacation with us.  Our time together has caused me to reminisce and remember the experiences we shared growing up.  This week, in honor of my sisters, I will post three poems celebrating our terrific trio.  Installment no. 1, Grade School Glories:

We did it to
amuse ourselves
during the ride to
my community
softball games.
My little sisters
and I played producers,
creating makeshift
movie stars out of our
afternoon snacks.
We tore our thinly
sliced lunch meat
into strips and gave
them each a name
as we cast our own
mini musicals,
starring Miss Piggy,
Mr. Angus and
Mrs. Gobblet.
Somehow the
dancing pieces of
ham, beef and turkey
kept our attention
until we reached the
ball diamond, where
I would trade my
sandwich meat
for a glove.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

(Golden:)

Golden:
A grandmother's love,
like the arms of the sun

Friday, July 04, 2014

Holiday haiku:

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca J. Davenport for a spectacular ending

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Dealing With Death

My maternal grandfather, Lindell Lee Jarrett, passed away a week ago today.  Since then, my mind has be occupied with memories, reconnections and recollections with relatives, the big questions of life and death, and (mentally) climbing the family tree -- up and down and back again.  It's amazing how full one's brain can be and -- at the same time -- how empty one's mouth can be.  Sometimes some things silence even those of us with the "gift of gab."

Some Things

Some things
silence the
professional speaker.
Some things
stump the
international intellectual.
Some things
paralyze the
confident wordsmith.
Some things...

Monday, June 23, 2014

Seasonal Criminals

There's something about
summertime sandals --
they're too much
to handle
when it comes to
the stench that
sweaty feet and
leather create.
My nostrils don't
celebrate or salivate about
the smell that emanates
from the partnership
that perpetrates
heinous crimes
against olfactory.