Day 2: Today’s challenge was to write a poem reflecting upon a childhood memory. It may have been something that influenced my adult life.

SOMEONE STOLE THE STRAP

“Someone stole the teacher’s strap,”
My nine-year-old self interjects
into a lull in the adult
conversation.

My parents had company for supper.
I have an overwhelming need to tell my story
to the guests who are staunchly ensconced
at the table.

Expressions of interest appear
on a few faces. I carry on,
my voice trembling a little.

“The big boys were laughing.
They knew who had taken it.”

The ladies wear disgusted expressions
on their faces.
The men not so much.
A few had felt the sting of the teacher’s
strap in former years.

“Mr O’brien was so mad.
His face was as red as…”
I pause, trying to think of a simile
“As an overripe tomato!”

It brought down the house.
Even my parents were laughing
Uproariously
I was hooked on humour!

Ps I have enjoyed writing humourous stories and poems since that time.

Day 12

My mother in her tiny
bachelor apartment
My three-year-old daughter
snuggling
with Grandma
on a quilt-covered
daybed
Mom’s friendly neighbour
on the easy-chair
Her name is
Mrs Kissin
Apparently
down the hall there’s
a Mrs Huggins
Too bad we never
got to meet her

Day 5

My favourite hate
The f-word…
In olden times
it was spoken only
by men
It went along with all
the other misogenistic putdowns
on women
Particularly women
who “slept around”
A good man was one
who apologized to ladies
when his logging camp
lingo which was peppered
with f-words, accidentally
slipped out between
booze moistened lips.

I thought it was cute,
forgiveable, that he apologized.
It meant I was considered
to be a lady.
Not a woman of the streets.
The f-word separated
The good men from the vulgar,
The good women from the bitches

Now the f-word
has become
innocuous.
It has lost it’s sickening
indecency,
its lack of integrity
It is used in everyday conversation
By women!
What word can I use
now, when I am all alone
and my car won’t start?

#18

Behold I walk with timid steps

Upon the unfamiliar soil

Knowing not what cometh next

Or not what cometh from my toil

Our flag I place within the hole

And tapeth hard so it stays so

Darkened skies and Earth below

Stars shine bright, they gleam and glow

Gadzooks, I know I’m just a speck

A tiny being nothing much

The universe behooves respect

Our flag is flying and I am touched

5

14

Wandering home I was so proud

The owner of a smart T.V.

When all at once I saw a crowd

Of children smiling happily

At home inside the living room

A host of channels on display

Liquid colours pierce the gloom

The children watch, no longer play

And I in somber mind beset

Have naught to do but read a book

I haven’t watched my T.V. yet

When kids depart, I’ll have a look

10 An old one

Here is a poem I wrote one year later after my husband’s death

THE CRUELEST MONTH
April is the cruelest month.
I’ve been dreading the 30 days,
Marked upon the calendar.
Easter Sunday 2015,
Commemorated as the day,
Jesus rose from the grave,
Was when I shriveled down,
To half the
Embodiment
I’d been occupying,
For almost 50 years.
My body did not become smaller,
But my wholeness shrank.

9 Poem

I’m a Teeter Bum bird

Teetering on a rock

I will tell my story

Although I cannot talk

I will sing a sonnet

From a bird’s eye view

Don’t get hurt from tumbling

If you are teetering too

Where you land when falling

Is how you will succumb

The secret when you’re teetering

Is to land upon your bum

7 A swing song dittie

Grandma cooks the dinner
While Grampa naps in bed
Grandma wakes up Grampa
He’s needing to be fed

Grandpa has a prime rib
Grandma just has cereal
False teeth cannot chew meat
But that does not deter him

Grampa’s gums are tougher
Than leather in a boot
With teeth tucked in a pocket
He really looks uncouth

Prime rib’s gone in no time
Then Grampa does assert
“Can’t eat peas and carrots
What is there for dessert?”

TANKA
yellow bananas

draped decoratively in a

bowl with apples, grapes

oranges, colour scheme pleasant

whoops… brown bananas