Faith is

Quickly Choose your subject, then go wild.

like a burning bush
I planted in the spring
whose green leaves homed
a robin’s nest and three
small blue eggs that
cracked open, filled the air
with hungry chirps
demanding to be fed.

but in the autumn
nest abandoned
the green leaves
glowing red embers
that never burst forth
to consume the bush
that gives off no heat
to warm the chilly night

is metaphor only
my prayer, my plea
my deep-seated need
that flares in my heart
that quickens the color
to my pale cheeks
but hidden within a
bush that burns like ice.

The Ideal Woman

QUICKLY “Think of a flaw or personality quirk. Give it a body and set it loose on the world”

Look at her – dreamy eyes, sour puss mouth
She looks at the world with high expectations
She’ll have the best party, the best wedding,
her husband will be a knight in shining armor.
It is her dream, her ideal, true perfection
but she is finding out it doesn’t always work
the way one hopes and plans – hence the mouth
and her constant anxiety and disillusionment.   

Sometimes You Can Go Back -Briefly

Twiglets chewed up the road

Went back to visit the old home place
time and disuse had chewed up the road
ruts from weather and deep potholes
were portents of what was to come

as I jarred down the bramble lined path

The years had not been kind to the house
peeling paint, sagging roof, a hornet’s nest
long abandoned under the gutter-less eaves
But, that was to be expected, no surprise,

I felt as weathered as time herself

Then, as the sun began to lower herself
behind the mountain, I was looking back
through time at a tidy yard, geraniums in
coffee cans and Dusty lying on the porch

waiting for grandpa to come sun in the chair.

(Dusty was a my grandfather’s dog though we all loved her.)

No Serious Regrets

QUICKLY “It is never too late to be what you might have been.”- George Eliot

What might have been
has no future. It is in the past,
written and sealed.

What is is what I’ve chosen
in the present where it lies
easy at my feet.

What will be is a puzzle
I can’t piece together
but I’m content.

Seaside

Weekend Quickly Pay attention

A perfectly planned resort
shops, schools, park,
restaurants, houses, condos
kids buying toys, books,
ice cream cones, a haven,
fun, food trucks, entertainment.
“Son, why are you crying?
This is the happiest place in the world.”

(Quote overheard while visiting Seaside)

Info on Seaside – Vacationing in the Florida Beach Town Where The Truman Show Was Filmed (fodors.com)

If you saw the 1998 movie starring Jim Carrey, in which—spoiler alert! —an average man’s life turns out to be the subject of a reality TV show, you might have assumed it was filmed on a set. The town was too perfect, too planned. After all, fictional “Seahaven” turns out to be an actual movie set the whole time. Let’s all put aside the flashbacks of the mind-scrambling, existential dread we were all feeling when that plot dropped onto us like a ton of bricks and made us question our daily existence. The important part, people, is that this town is real.

It’s no surprise that the actual Seaside is just like Seahaven—the definition of small beach town, USA. It was built from the ground up in the ’80s to be the perfect community, where families ride their bikes past pastel beach houses with white picket fences. Tiny seafood shacks and ice cream food trucks line the main street, and an old-fashioned post office anchors the community green. It’s the kind of perfection you’d expect to find at a carefully crafted theme park like Walt Disney World, minus the characters and rides and cartoonish decor. It’s blissfully isolated, too, tucked away from the rest of the Florida Panhandle like a hidden gem.

Endings

Quickly Two Rooms
The word “Stanza” comes from the Italian for “room”. Write two five-line stanzas without apparent connection.

The trees that were green
have turned to flaming colors
a last, vibrant amen of glory
before they are stripped bare
to endure winter’s bitterness.

She glances around the room.
Everything is in order, tidy.
The fireplace is swept of ashes.
The grate waits with empty arms.
With one last look, she leaves.
   

October is…

Poets and Storytellers Weekly Scribblings #90: October Posted by Rommy

Of frosts that curl the flowers
and scatter the marigold seeds
that stirs something in the breast
of trees to paint a blush on leaves

Of pumpkins, gourds, and squashes
sedum’s ‘Autumn Joy’ and purple mums
corn mazes and hayrides, hot apple cider,
Oktoberfest, *Bridge Day and Halloween

Of sweater evenings, and chimney smoke
and raking piles of fallen leaves
of shorter days and longer nights
and time to hunker down and settle in.

*The New River Gorge Bridge info here

Two Ekphrastic Poems

The illustrator is C. Coles Phillips

She found a picture of her great-grandmother
She’d heard the stories, the scandalous rumors
whispered still in her grandma’s day, family secret
but she knew how it felt to blend in with walls,
be ignored, expectations of seen and not heard
so she followed her GG’s example, packed a valise
and left.  She was a wild flower in a bed of wall flowers
and her grand-daughters rise up and praise her.

“Hotel By a Railroad” by Edward Hopper

It was all they could afford back then’
They hadn’t noticed how drab the walls,
how sparse the furniture, how unlovely
the view out the window, how loud the clatter,
how sharp the screech of metal on metal.
Now, after all these years hoping to rekindle
they find they have grown as dull and drab
and emotionless as the room itself. And their
silence as loud, as sharp, as a terrible screech
of chalk on a board that frizzles the nerves.
  

Hollow Yearnings

The Twiglets Let me go mad

What is this madness which tempts me so
that upon this lazy, languid breeze
the scent of yesterdays long ago
taunt me, torment me with shadowy
faces and whispered conversations
of people I no longer know? No,
not even that young girl who was me.
That girl knew nothing of life, of love
and no one to lead her safely through
and all the ‘might have beens and maybes’
fall like ashes at my feet. Too late,
too late, the tale is already writ
and at the end I must close that book.