Category: poetry

Ode to a Grilled Cheese Sandwich

I like to eat, probably a little too much, and sometimes the wrong things. But some comfort foods are so…comforting. One even inspired a little poem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ode to a Grilled Cheese Sandwich

Comfort on a griddle
That’s what grilled cheese is
Golden toasted warmth
Full of the forbidden
Things that make you feel so good
Salt and butter and fat
But it’s solace that sticks
To your ribs, the next best
Thing to a hug from your grandmother
A grilled cheese sandwich is the
Stolid best friend of the food world
Securely there, always, unchanging
Sometimes this bare thought is enough
I could have a grilled cheese later
If I feel the need

Peonies – a Sonnet

 

So far, I’ve missed only two days in my quest to write a poem per day in April. I decided to try my hand at a sonnet. Here’s the result:

Peonies

They seem quite tentative at first, their stems
So slight, peek out for a looksee, an inch
Or two as if unsure whether their gems
Are something they want to share or pinch
Back for themselves alone. Each day they stretch
Forward, looking stronger, more confident,
Till their intent appears to be to fetch
The sky, and they raise tight fists, defiant.
Guarded against the ant and butterfly
They keep their blooms constrained, bound close.
Soon their inhibitions will burst; unshy
They will compete with the lily and rose.
Vibrant, voluptuous blossoms will flare,
Then bow down with beauty too heavy to bear.

Ode to My Favorite Picture Books

I was thinking today about two of my favorite childhood picture books: “The Story of Ferdinand” by Munro Leaf, and “Harold and the Purple Crayon” by Crockett Johnson. I read both of these over and over. I see now how they’ve influenced me for life.

Here’s today’s poem, a tribute to these two books. It’s rough, but from the heart.

Two Great Teachers

Ferdinand, from you I learned
The value of sitting in the clover
Quietly being true to yourself.
You and Harold
Were my first great teachers.
Ferdinand, I’m so glad you came along
When I was young to show me
conquests and prizes pale
Next to the victory of retaining
Your integrity. From you I learned
Contemplation.
Harold, with his crayon, spurred my creativity,
Showed me I could travel anywhere
Be anything, have wondrous adventures,
No matter my circumstances,
Without depending on someone else,
Without a car or bike or money,
As long as I had imagination.

If you need to find me, I’ll be
Traveling this world and others
In my clover patch.

At the Intersection of Poetry Month and Library Week

A library poem. I wrote this a few years ago.

741.5

A hard rain’s gonna fall
on the head of the next shelver
to work this section of the library

Superheroes overpower the bookends
break free of their confines
fly off the shelves

Snoopy, completely dog-eared
keeps getting unleashed
scampering to the floor

Beatle Bailey and his troop
lose formation
drift off to the wrong location
again

Calvin and Hobbes are out
having an unauthorized adventure
on the far side of Gary Larsen

Large floppy books with bad posture
slouch along the shelves
lean on each other for support
much like the teens who
camp here studying anime and manga

Someone needs to come along
and straighten them up

Poem: After-Evening

For my own private celebration of National Poetry Month, I’m attempting to write one poem each day. I won’t publish them all here, but today I feel moved. I will count this as the poem for April 2, even though I didn’t finish it until a couple of minutes past midnight.

Remember, I just finished this, so don’t be too harsh.

 

After-Evening

The after-evening time, when partnered with
Completed to dos or even postponed to dos,
Contains the most prized moments of my day.

The store of chores has closed shop for the night
And I have tucked in my precious duties
With hope they will sleep through until morning.

I take out my favorite diversions and dreams
From the suitcase in the back of my mind,
Slip into them. The fit is exquisite.

 

 

Bronx Zoo Cobra Revisited

Remember the Bronx Zoo Cobra. I almost didn’t until I was looking through one of my notebooks and found a poem I wrote about it at the time. I figured I’d better go ahead and share before nobody can remember what I’m talking about.

 

Bronx Zoo Cobra

Snake on the lam
America’s most wanted animal
The hooded Houdini of hiss
Slithered its way out of sight
And into mind
Who would have guessed
A poor humble immigrant serpent
Would become an asp of such ascendance
Climbing to heights of fame
Undreamt since the days
Of Cleopatra

 

Now it occurs to me this is the second snake-themed poem I’ve put on my blog. I don’t know if it means anything.

Poem of the Day, April 5

So far, I’m meeting my goal of writing a poem a day. Okay, I haven’t put any words down yet today, but they’re percolating. I’ll have them written before bed.

Here’s yesterday’s poem.  It’ll likely be rewritten a few times.

 

Geography by Disaster

Fukushima, Chernobyl
Geography learned by disaster
I look at an atlas
When people die
When buildings collapse
When leaders shoot their citizens
In the streets
When the fallout might land here

In tonight’s news I’d like to hear
About a place where today
Tulips bloomed
Fish swam in clean water
Families hiked
Women and men went to jobs
While children learned math
And have this continuation
Of life be amazement enough
To capture my attention

 

National Poetry Month

I’m happy to see another National Poetry Month roll around. I have been neglecting my writing, and especially my poetry for a while now. We’ve had an unusual amount of snow this year, resulting in many days out of school for my kids and lots of time spent on stuff like shoveling and sledding. I can’t say I regret the sledding, even if it was in lieu of writing. Also, I’ve been working more hours on my day job.

But now: National Poetry Month. Having an officially named month gives me a kick to do something. Ignoring those who say April is for Script Frenzy, my goal is a poem a day. I managed it last year. So far, I’m on track for this year, having written an actual sonnet today.

Here’s one of my favorite quotes about poetry:  “I was reading the dictionary.  I thought it was a poem about everything.” – Steven Wright

To Do Lists

I was sorting through some of my poems, and came across this one I wrote in 2006.

To Do Lists

To be done before vacation:
Catch up all laundry
Make sure the grass is cut
And the bills are paid
Clean out the van

Upon returning:
Write a novel
Land a book contract
Transform my chronically messy house
into an aesthetically inviting
gathering place for the group of very hip
writers of which I will be a central figure
But first:
Clean out the van
Do the laundry
Pay the bills
And mow the yard

**

I’m still working my way through the line items. But I can check mark “write a novel.” And I’m making efforts at some of the others. Some photo evidence from the past year:

 

I still have a distance to go, however. One step at a time.

 

A Heartening Little Sign for Poetry

I was just renewing my library books on-line a few minutes ago, when something unprecedented happened. A book of poetry failed to renew because someone has a hold on it. Frequently, I find I can’t renew a title because of someone else’s hold. But it’s never happened before for poetry. And I check out poetry a lot. Also, I renew a lot.  (Oh shush. Working at a library doesn’t mean I’m any better than anyone else at returning materials on time.) So I have a feel for how uncommon this is.

In fact, I tried two more times to renew the book, thinking I’d somehow failed to click the correct box or something. Then I finally read the message about the item having holds, the message that informed me there are people in this city who care about poetry, who want to read it.

The book in question, in case anyone wonders, is Apocalyptic Swing by Gabrielle Calvocoressi.