The Pineapple Dilemma – A Poem

Santa Clara County, CA  (day 114 of mostly stay at home)

The Pineapple Dilemma

That
mysterious masked stranger
six feet ahead of me
in the grocery check out line
has those blue puppy dog eyes
some women
like me
could fall for
and
I’d start a conversation with him
except for the pineapple
flown  in from Hawaii
prominently displayed in his basket.
Ordinarily
the perfect time
for a discussion on carbon footprints.
Luckily
his girlfriend appears
saving me from yet another lock-down decision.

Ellespeth

When I Talk About Home – A Poem

When I Talk About Home

I know

I can’t  describe
the way a 4PM rain smells
at 5PM
when it’s a steam bath
walking home.

Or explain
why
I
rushed to a stage 3 times
to throw my bandana
to Willie Nelson
and how normal that felt.

Or paint for you
fully enough
or write a poesy perfect enough
about how the swamp
from a plane high above
brings salty tears
to the memories in my heart.

I know.

Ellespeth

Things We Think Don’t Need Anymore

Since my internet (computer sorta) strike began – blame Stable Genius Trump news – I’m using these reference books again.  And my old manual typewriter.  And handwritten notebooks.   And layers of Post-It Note corrections.  I feel 20 years younger!

Things We Don’t Need Anymore

Don’t know how long my internet strike will last.  I’m giving myself 5 minutes a day. LOL.  I am on Second Life (a virtual world) , though. I look 40 years younger there!  Let me know if you’d like to meet up there and I’ll try to figure out how we can do that.

Ellespeth

 

When You’re Not Edna St. Vincent Millay

I’ve been at a loss for words the past two years. Besides my anger over still recovering from breaking my body tripping over a Lego, I’m angry and fearful over my government. The government that holds my country together. That complicated and beautiful woven tapestry of words and beliefs and hopes called our Constitution.

Sometimes you try cheering me up. But nothing cheers me up. I feel really devastated . I’m not a party person. I’m the best person for the job sort of person.

I’m just so pissed off. So pissed off. Do men cry when they are pissed off? Women do. I’m just so pissed off and scared. I really don’t handle not knowing very well.

So, I’m hoping that this will all be over by Monday and that impeachment hearings will begin  and life can continue as it was two years ago.   Sometimes magical thinking s a good thing.  Was life really better two years ago?  Really, I don’t remember.  It felt better.

Ellespeth

I Should Have Been A Country Song Writer

I spend a great deal of my time rooted in imaginings of past present moments. When I decide to put my work up on WordPress, I search the web for images that say something – I think anyway 😛 – about the poem/sometimes story.

Sometimes, I do flash fiction here on WordPress. Look at a photograph and write something about it in 100 words or less. I don’t do very well with those. I actually have a love/hate relationship with those.  Like doing a book report.

Then sometimes, like today, I walk by our kitchen table and see these tulips y,ou gave me yesterday, so beautifully wilted.  The present moment.  I take this picture thinking I could and will write a million words about these tulips one day. But they won’t be about tulips.

I’m making a healthy version of smothered round steak with onions and some kind of fancy frozen West Coast mushrooms that are way cheap frozen, and all the lettuce we didn’t use last week  – yum. What can I say? I’m a transplanted Southerner living in Silicon Valley. It’s Easter Sunday. Lent is OVER. Pig out marginally.

I should have been a country song writer. Those are really wonderful stories.

 

A Day In A Life Seeking Joy – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.   Thank you, PJ, for sponsoring this and for all of your hard work on our behalf.  Please follow lil froggy for more stories.

This week’s photo prompt is provided by H.R.R. Gorman. Thank you H.R.R.!

A Day In A Life Seeking Joy

When I woke up this morning, I felt wrapped in an aura of joy. What did I care that my 4-year-old had jumped up and down on our bed until he was sure I was wide awake? What I did notice, though, was his somewhat “I know I’m in trouble” grin talking to me.

Dear Marie Kondo ~

I want to make this as short as possible. When I woke up this morning, this is what awaited me in my 4-year-old’s room: Help!

Stella from New Orleans

Dear Stella ~

Oh! This is a very easy messy one to handle. Take each piece of toilet paper and fold it in threes. 

Marie  

Ellespeth   

Morning Dew Long Ago – Flash Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.   Thank you, PJ, for sponsoring this and for all of your hard work on our behalf.  Please follow lil froggy for more stories.

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan!

Morning Dew Long Ago

That day,  on the way to school, my brothers and I walked into some police fencing. I told them it was just a simple fence, but they insisted it was some sort of police fencing. So, I climbed the chain linked fence. Just beyond where I landed were streamers of what looked like toilet paper. They were wet and heavy from the morning dew.

“Someone finally wrapped ole man Johnson’s yard!” I called out. It did look like that to me.

My voice giggled and caught on the wind and landed in my brother, Evan’s, ear. “You come back here right now, Heather,” Evan yelled.

“You come back here right now, Heather. Do ya hear me tellin’ you?” Evan shouted again.

I did hear him but someone had taped my mouth shut and I couldn’t reply.

Ellespeth